Who

Linny, Mayte

What

Linny comes across Mayte contemplating some changes around the Weyr…

When

5th day of the seventh month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Administrative Corridor

OOC Date

 

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Administrative Corridor

This hall must once had a glory about it, surely: there is a grand geometry to its graceful archways, and a grave beauty to its even stonework. Yet this hallway bears the veneer of disinterest as plain as the rest of the Weyr. The floors go unswept, the walls unwashed: a thin layer of green growth coats many a corner. (Moss, feeding off the light of the glows. Well - let's hope it's moss.) Grime clings to grout lines, spinner webs dangle from the glorious archways. Only the occasional footstep stirs the dusty floors, for most of the Weyrfolk have little occasion to venture here.


The busy life of a weyrwoman rarely gives one the time to stop and smell the flowers, but that’s kind of what Mayte is doing anyway. Dressed in her finest pants and jacket, the young woman is standing in the middle of the hallway, looking at the walls. Glaring at them, in fact. Her arms cradle a pile of hides to her chest, one even poking out precariously - if Mayte shifts her arms, it might loosen from her hold and escape. But she’s not paying attention to that, or the strange looks of anyone who might pass by her. Her head cranes back to examine the wall as far as the light will go, then slowly tips forward so she can examine the join between wall and floor. And her expression is not pleased.

It's a rare sight to see Linny coming out of the council chambers with a smile on her face, but that's what is happening at the moment: her meeting must have gone well, at least for her or the Weyr, perhaps not so well for the Holders. Her own hides are held against her chest as she emerges, and it's then that she comes upon Mayte, getting her smile to change, adding fondness and curiously to her already good mood. She comes up beside the junior silently, alternating her look between her and the wall, trying to see what it is that she's staring so intently at. For the moment, she stays quiet, waiting for the woman to notice her.

Noises of people shuffling behind her doesn’t distract Mayte from her staring contest, but when Linny steps up next to her, the junior’s body language changes - the shoulder next to Linny moves back ever so slightly to include her in the observation circle. It takes another long moment before Mayte opens her mouth to deliver the verdict: “This wall is boring. And gross.” One hand is freed so she can point out where a particularly long tail of moss hugs between stones, “I mean, what the f is that? And why aren’t there benches or something? A tapestry, or paintings?” Usually it’s pregnant women with nesting syndrome but today, it’s Mayte: “I mean, do drudges come in here, ever?” It’s apparently an outrage now.

Linny continues to flick her gaze between Mayte and the wall, but her look is starting to become more and more concerned as ye woman starts talking. Finally, softly, she says, "Love, it's a wall. I don't think many people spend their days looking at them and seeing what's wrong." But since she gets the feeling that won't suffice with Mayte, and also feeling like there is more to her mood, Linny turns to her, unexpectantly chipper. "Why don't you put yourself in charge of that? Weyr maintanence. Surely that's something W'rin would get behind. Organize some drudges to clean the walls, order some tapestries or maps. Make this hall beautiful." Or whatever it takes to make Mayte stop staring at the walls.

“It’s a wall,” Mayte agrees but her tone is less than agreeable, “But it’s a gross wall.” She starts to scowl, as if she’s trying to scare the moss and time-forgotten residue off by force of will alone. “I mean, if we bring dignitaries in here, it should be spotless. There should be a waiting area.” Something gleeful shifts behind her eyes, “Stone benches or something.” Finally, with some vague plan in mind, Mayte turns to Linny and blinks a few times. “Yes. That’d work out just fine.” Watch out, Corridor, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you. “Maybe bring some of those antiques out from the Archives, make ‘em a talking point or whatever.” And now Linny’s got her attention so Mayte’s jaw creaks up into a smile, “How’re you doing? How’s, uh, the little bumpette?” Because duh, it’s going to be a girl.

Satisfied that she's accomplished two things in one swoop, Linny's smile grows exponentially: she can at least take some of the credit in this even if Mayte does all of the work, and that's the best way it can work out. All of the bragging rights, no sweating. Now that Mayte's got it all worked out, she lets the subject drop, her smile growing when it comes to her baby. "It's bumping," she replies, glancing down at it gently curving her abdomen out, still in that cute bump stage. In a few months, it won't be so cute. It'll be ginormous. "Been feeling great, which is a blessing. When I was pregnant with Linden, I got so sick. But so far so good." Since Linny doesn't want to curse herself. "How've you been?" Since it's been awhile that the two have been able to stop and have a conversation.

Bad mood disaster averted! “Y’know, I never understood,” Mayte says conversationally, “What they meant about women ‘glowing’ in pregnancy. It always sounded weird, but I think I get it.” But the idea of getting sick has Mayte wrinkling her nose, “That morning-sick-up thing? Yeah, that sounds like it sucks.” Thank goodness weyrs have stone walls. As for her? “I’m doing good. Rhiscorath’s weird, as always. How’s Kaelidyth?” Something occurs to Mayte in a flash of pained worry in her eyes, “Uhhhh… has Jharlodar been to see you lately? At all?” No reason… Any more ‘innocent’ and Mayte would be whistling.

"Well, it's one of two things. Either you are puking your guts out and therefore all sweaty, or you are so happy you're pregnant that you can't stop smiling." This time around, Linny is lucky enough to be in the latter category. "Kaelidyth is fine," she replies with a cautious note to her voice, given that she still has no explanation as to why she's not proddy anymore. Thankfully, Mayte's question comes at a perfect time so she doesn't have to worry about getting into that. Brows wrinkle, though, as she considers the question, her gaze upon the junior suspicious. "Noooo. Why?" Because obviously there's a reason.

The former sounds like enough of an unpleasant option that Mayte sticks out her tongue and blehs a little, “With my luck, I’d be puking. Nooo thanks.” The cautious tone of Linny’s voice earns a somewhat-sympathetic, somewhat-worried look - if it can happen to Kaelidyth, it could to Rhiscorath, right? But then Linny asks the question Mayte was really hoping she wouldn’t. “Uhhhh, ‘cuz I was kind of involved in a fight the last time I went into the Cantina, and he said he’d see me about it and I haven’t heard back from him yet…” See? Mayte’s being cagey.

It's easy for Linny to slip from conversational-friend-mode into weyrwoman-mode, nodding her head just slightly. "I'll go speak to him for you." With all of the brawls, and near-brawls, that happen in the Cantina, not to mention how much time Linny used to spend in there herself, she and Jharlodar have developed a pretty good relationship. Unfortunately for Mayte's cageyness (totally a word), a brow arches as she becomes the recipient of another weyrwomanly look. "But first I need to know what happened." After all, she can't go to bat for her without all of the info to back herself up. Plus, she's curious what trouble little, innocent Mayte could get into in the Cantina for Jharlodar to get involved.

About the last thing Mayte was hoping for, “No! Uh, no, no.” Mayte’s just a little flustered, “I can deal with it.” Nope, nothing embarrassing here. It’s actually a moment more before she deflates and looks around for any gossipers - thankfully, no one actually likes being here. Must be the decor. “See, I was bored one night, so I got R’xim to go the Cantina with me to test out the whiskey. We were chatting, things were fine, and then some old jerk from when I worked in Corks and Works started running his mouth about me being a pretend goldrider.” This information is very nearly hissed in secrecy. “R’xim was just being, y’know, nice enough, but Thom pushed past me,” Mayte’s memory is an interesting place, “and R’xim got up to…” what? Clobber the guy? Beat the ever-lovin’ lillies out of him? “Anyways, I don’t want R’xim getting into more spit with W’rin because he’s already hurt and Thom was provoking him. I’ve already dealt with Thom, but I just wanted to know if Jharlodar’s talked to anyone else around here about it.” Mayte’s been a busy girl lately.

Linny's look turns from weyrwomanly to amused when R'xim is brought into the conversation. O rly? Finally, when the story is all done, she says once more, "I'll talk to Jharlodar." It sounds like an easy enough situation to deal with, so on that front, she's not worried about handling it easily and quietly. The rest, though? "R'xim huh?" Since the last time they talked, Mayte sounded like she was very anti-R'xim. "You know, sometimes I wonder if their transfer was worth it for us," she muses, idly, shifting her hidework in her arms. "Both F'dan and R'xim have both been more trouble than any of us expected." There's a shake of her head to dispel the sudden somber mood that's overtaken her, giving Mayte a warm smile. "Next time, take the whiskey to him, okay?" Since R'xim doesn't seem to do too well when he's drinking in the Cantina, a fact Linny has witnessed firsthand.

A nod and faint grin, “Thanks.” When the conversation shift, Mayte shrugs even though her nose is wrinkling, “He’s not bad when he’s not being a d.” Absentmindedly, she shifts her own load of work, then barks out a laugh: “Overall? Well, if we gotta take ‘em both as a pair…” Mayte sounds one way, then shakes her head, “Toss ‘em both back. I’d take R’xim over F’dan any day, though.” It’s maybe the most open she’s been about those two with anyone, and Mayte’s shoulders relax momentarily. Then she blinks: “Like, having a drink on his ledge?” Because inside is no-man’s land. Mayte considers that and then says grudgingly, “It’d work better, yeah.” There’s a hint of a grin that follows: “I mean… if he doesn’t toss me off his ledge first.” The grin turns into a cheeky smirk as she explains, “He seemed pretty psd off when I saw him last…” Cuz doesn’t every guy love getting into a fight when he’s been dragged from his comfy weyr.

Linny certainly does not comment on which rider she would send back, given that she's carrying a child belonging to one of them…but she's probably right there with Mayte, regardless, on who it would be. "Yes, on his ledge. Or in his weyr. It's what I did one time, when he was avoiding me. Just bring good whiskey," is her advice on how not to get tossed off of his ledge. "Then see? You have a perfect reason to go see him. To apologize. With whiskey." Then, as an added thought, a hand gestures towards Mayte's breasts. "Give him something to look at, too. Some nice cleavage. Guys will always forgive you if you've got cleavage out." Or at least that's been Linny's experience, but she usually has cleavage out, so it's hard to be sure.

There’s a brief snort and Mayte commiserates: “He does that a lot, doesn’t he? The sulking in his weyr.” R’xim, she means. The idea of apologizing earns a disgruntled look and Mayte glosses over to protest, “No. No cleavage. One, I don’t have any,” those hides are pulled close to keep Linny or anyone trying to find some, “and B, I ain’t showing him anything.” A little sniff, “Mostly because he hasn’t done anything to earn that.” If you wanna be her lovah, you gotta jump through hoops set on fire. For the first round. “Whiskey, I can understand. Wine. Rum. Even good beer. But cleavage?” Pfft.

"Nothing to earn it? He didn't come to your defense in the Cantina when he didn't have to?" Linny asks with those arched brows that reek of silent judgement. "In any case," because she totally knows Mayte isn't about to listen to any of her advice when it comes to R'xim, "take him a bottle of whatever and clear the air with him. He's really not a bad guy when you get to know him. He's just rotten by association." Being friends with F'dan definitely messes with his reputation. Knowing they are coming to the end of the road in that particular conversation, Linny nods at the wall, smirking. "You really plan on cleaning this up?"

Can’t judge what isn’t repentant. “That’s what the whiskey’s for,” Mayte says in disgust, “Or rum. He’s a rum guy.” Or so she recalls. As for R’xim’s known associates, Mayte’s grin returns, a slightly smug pursing of her lips, “Well, there’s that. He sure doesn’t do himself any favours there, does he.” Poor R’xim. Poor, dumb R’xim. “Sienna’s okay with them though, so…” Mayte can’t believe she’s about to say this, “Maybe there’s…” A pause. Nose wrinkled in effort. Eyebrows draw together before Mayte gives up that ghost, “Nope. Forget that.” As for the wall o’ doom? She turns to look up at it again and glares. “Oh, it’s gonna get clean,” she replies in flat, even tones. The kind of tones used right before something really awful happens. “And for that? I need Prineline.”

"Faranth help you. Mayte, you're crazy." Because there's no way Linny would take on such a project. She'll sit in meetings for candlemarks and listen to Holders drone on and on, but that wall would be left to its own fate if it was up to her. "If you need any help decorating, let me know, but you're on your own when it comes to cleaning it." At least she can admit it. "In any case, good luck with R'xim. Let me know how that goes. And I'll let you know how things go with Jharlodar." Because she totally intends on going there immediately to make sure nothing gets back to W'rin. No good would come of that for anybody, and the sooner she deals with it, the better everything will be. Linny reaches a hand up to lightly grip the back of Mayte's neck, giving her a little shake. "Don't work too hard, huh?"

Sorry, W’rin, you’re 0 and 4 on sane goldriders. “Nah,” Mayte replies absently, her attention already refocusing on the walls before her. “Decorating… yeah. Yeah.” She’s refocusing, deciding, plotting. “Oh yeah. R’xim. Sure, will do.” Only Linny’s hand on her skin and the shake provides a slight wake-up that has Mayte grinning at the shorter woman. “Me? Ever?” In other words, probably a good warning. Mayte lets out a snort of air and hums, “Alright. I gotta go find Prineline, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?” With a final grin, Mayte walks off in the direction of the Headwoman’s offices, muttering something about tapestries.

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