Who

Vosji, Miel, Zavyr

What

Zavyr is summoned to explain why she broke curfew. And she meets the new AWLM. Sort of.

When

It is midmorning of the thirteenth day of the fourth month of the eleventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr - Weyrlingmaster Office

OOC Date 26 Jun 2017 07:00

 

vosji_default.jpg miel_default.jpg zavyr_default.jpg


Igen Weyr - Weyrlingmaster Office

Vosji wasn't in or near the candidate barracks the night before last, but she did get reports. And those reports included some things about Zavyr, such as Zavyr's not actually making curfew on time. And Zavyr's being out in who-knows-where doing who-knows-what; the Weyrlingmaster chose not to believe any of the stories, as they all sounded equally ridiculous. But suffice to say, rules were broken: curfew was missed, and Zavyr has already danced the rule line with Vosji before. So she's summoned the candidate in question to her office, where she's sitting cross-legged in her chair, barefoot, playing some sort of game with a wooden board and beads with herself. Waiting.

And it won't be the Candidate in question who reports in first but it will be a familiar face! Miel knocks first at least before just sauntering in, a near-lazy smile matching the humour in her eyes as she catches Vosji playing that game. "Looks like some things don't ever change," she teases lightly, before straightening her shoulders and adopting a more professional attitude, along with a quick-snapped salute. "Morning, Vosji." Okay, kind of professional. "I thought I'd have at least a day or two to settle before going head-long into this. You needing me to stick around or…" There's a nod of her head towards the training grounds, to signify that she'll get lost if the Weyrlingmaster has other tasks for her.

It's a long walk from wherever Zavyr was, let's say for argument's sake, dealing with the midden behind the stable, and the Weyrlingmaster's office. The walk is made longer by speculations about why she's being summoned and the necessary stop to wash hands and forearms at least. Zavyr has a spectacular imagination and, as Stryker said, 'shitty luck' - would be just her luck to make it this far and THEN manage to get herself released from Candidacy. But the wraith-like figure finall arrives, unwrapping her headscarf from around near-white hair to reveal ice-blue eyes and nearly alabaster skin, and taps lightly on the doorframe. "Ma'am-s?" The 's' is parked in there to accomodate Miel's presence.

Not coming in smelling completely like stable midden is nonetheless appreciated by all parties. Vosji has a mere few moments of smile for Miel, and, "Some habits really never should," because a de-stressing hobby is important, even if it's just Pern Mancala Solitaire. "There's never much of a time for rest with this many eggs, though you can recuse yourself from candidate duty as much as you feel you need to." She has no other work to dump on the greenrider, however. Iskanzivoth is probably telling Ivaenth everything he can remember about the current crop. "But, no — stay. Meet one of our more interesting candidates." Which is Zavyr's cue to come in not completely smelling like horse poop and dirty hay, of course. "Zavyr, good. Have a seat?" It's an offer: Zavyr can keep standing if preferred.

There's probably been worse smells but that's a story for another time! Iaventh is probably all over Iskanzivoth right now for the latest news and gossip; the green will want to be up to speed! It's a necessary thing! Miel, however, is content to simply catch up as time allows. "Have you ever known me to do that?" Another of those smiles and a wink to go with it, as she moves about the office to find her own spot in which to settle — even if it means leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. A brow lifts to Vosji's offer, but before she can agree, Zavyr steps in and instantly the greenrider is giving her the once over. Followed by a reassuring half-smile. "Morning, Zavyr." Instantly her accent will peg her as non-native to Igen, but those details are not further touched upon.

Uncertain, Zavyr first salutes. She'd promised herself she WOULD remember that, this time. But the chair is regarded dubiously, and the words as well, with that odd gaze flicking back and forth between both women. Zavyr will, after some hesitation, sink carefully into the chair. "Ma'am."

"I'm sure you know why you're here, so we will both dismiss with playing dumb," Vosji says helpfully, cutting right to the chase. It is entirely not her thing to manipulate or shame; getting to the point is far more her style. "However, for Miel's sake — this is Miel, by the way, one of my assistants — I'll summarize: candidates have a curfew. Zavyr missed this curview. Insane rumors about why are flying around the candidates at speeds I am completely unable to keep up with, and also relatively uninterested." A wave of the hand. Rumors are not important. "I would like to know only one reason: the actual one." Focus, now, entirely on Zavyr, expression firm but not over-harsh.

At the introduction, Miel openly grins and lifts her one hand up to cheekily wiggle her fingers at Zavyr. Hey there! Then within a blink of an eye, she's sobering in temperament and adopts a more professional attitude again. Tilting her head a bit while Vosji gives the run-down, the greenrider almost speaks up but promptly bites her lower lip and withholds on that. Instead, she nods and her gaze flicks back to Zavyr, softening a bit. "Best just to be honest, if you can." she suggests, with a little smirk. She knows how hard 'honesty' can be.

Miel is given something of the sort of blank stare that comes from long practice of hiding one's true emotions, however…One brow quirks up at the finger-wriggling. No doubt the Fool would issue some response, were that particular aspect of Zavyr not under tight rein at the moment. Instead, the woman remains still and seated for a long moment. "I was upset. I went to a rough part of the Bazaar. I made considerable coin betting people that they couldn't hit me, given three opportunities. I figured, since I missed curfew anyway, I might as well make good on it and I stayed until I was too sore to work effectively." Work being, perhaps, a key term of note. Annnnd she pins on, at the end, "Ma'ams."

Finger-waggle waving is clearly an Istan habit of some sort, or that of its female fighting riders; Vosji does that all the time, too. Just not as much so with candidates; the assistants have a little more leeway being casual. On-duty Vosji and off-duty Vosji are two spectacularly different people. "If another one of the class caused this — upset, you should be reporting it." This is a statement. It is not a request for explanation. "However, two bits: one, that candidates have no need for money, and two, the later you are missing curfew the more trouble you are in. Were these things not adequately covered by the riders who Searched you or by the Headwoman's staff?"

Miel frowns as Zavyr delivers her reasoning behind missing curfew and again, the women chews on her lower lip. She's clearly mulling over something and, in part, looks a touch puzzled. A newcomer, she's unfamiliar with much of Zavyr's history, though something the Candidate has shared brings a thread of concern to her voice. "I'll second Vosji on that. What'd they say to upset you, so? That'd you go to such… extremes." Coin acquirement is brushed off. She's focusing on the 'worked all night' portion. She darts a sidelong look to the Weyrlingmaster too and smirks. It's clear she wants to say something, but the greenrider keeps her tongue in check (through great effort) and instead waits on Zavyr's answer again to both their questions.

About to open her mouth and mention that Vosji was the rider that Searched her, Zavyr recalls that it was Divale that had returned Zavyr to the Weyr as a Candidate and though their rather heated conversation ranged far and wide, those particular aspects were not specifically covered. However, this is not Zavyr's first pony-ride. So instead, after a hesitancy, Zavyr nods. "Yes ma'am. I'm well aware of this." 'This' - take your pick. Miel's question hits much more close to home. Ice-blue gaze turns to the greenrider for a long moment, before Zavyr shakes her head. "That is a matter I would rather keep private, ma'am."

Vosji's face is a thin line, lips pursed and expression relatively bland. Behind her eyes; some curiosity, but mostly resigned acceptance of the fact it's not likely they will get every answer they want, and privacy is not something that gets completely set aside during candidacy. "If another candidate pushed you so far, I would like their name. Nothing more." Juuuust to even out the blame. But after the water incident, Vosji doesn't expect Zavyr to name any names, so much as dance through careful wording to avoid doing so as much as possible. "What I would like to know is what inspired the choice to stay out even later, for funds you do not need now, and will not need should you Impress."

And it's here that Vosji and Miel might diverge a little; the greenrider has a weakness when it comes to 'personal' matters, but that's what had her singled out for the position she holds now. She's an unbiased listener! So her attention will focus sharply on Zavyr for a moment, but before she even extends something to her, her attention flips back to Vosji. Now temptation is too great and she'll likely push at that line between their ranks. "Oh Vosji, you know how it can be! Not all get along, everyday." She makes a meshing gesture of her hands, before smirking again. "Human nature. We probably won't see this as the only spat between two…" A quick look to Zavyr. "… or more?" Warmer? Colder? "Candidates." She doesn't chime in again on the necessity for marks, however. Mostly because her nature sees her doing similar behaviour that she's not about to openly admit here — even if it's not entirely a secret (just unknown in Igen, so far).

"Yes ma'am. And in the event that I do not Impress, I intend to leave Igen as soon as possible. I already have several non-Candidates committed to forming a performing troupe with me, and there are several Candidates who have also said they will go, if they do not Impress. So I intend to move us out of here rapidly and will need more coin than less, as I won't have as much time to barter as I might otherwise. We will need several runners, as one of us has a wagon, and supplies, food and water-containers, grain and fodder. Likely a milking caprine. Healer supplies. These items do not come cheap, and I have been saving. But I earned nothing working for the Weyr in the capacity of a stablehand. And hopefully I will not be performing at the Pit again. I was able to earn some coin performing along the coast in Southern continent. But they are not wealthy there, those cotholders, and there were some supplies we had to also purchase." Zavyr is perfectly willing to speak freely about anything the WLMs are NOT interested in, that does NOT answer their questions, particularly. The strategy is, evidently, to overanswer one possibly unimportant aspect of one question and ignore the other two. Miel, with her input, is marked by that odd, pale gaze as a potential ally. But Zavyr stops speaking, sitting rather like a player at dragonchess, who has made her move.

It sort of answers one of Vosji's underlying questions, though it also gives her a chance to criticize. This is after she's done making affectionate eye-roll faces at Miel; sometimes they just don't want to tell you even if you want to listen! "Understandable. It is not, however, something you're meant to be spending your time doing while a candidate. Side moneymaking will stop, now, or you will not find yourself on the hatching sands — which would be a waste of all the time you have spent here, becoming a mostly very fine specimen of a potential future weyrling." Except for the pranks and curfew issues, Zavyr's not as much trouble as she might think! "There is no time off from being a candidate, and so you will not be putting any further work into anything outside the purview of candidacy. Crafters must leave their crafts behind for the duration, so too will anyone else." Street performers included. And acrobats. And — well, some of the thugs are probably still being thugly, but in a candidate-y kind of way. "I won't make you disclose who or what upset you, but I would prefer if you let me know about any interpersonal issues that may affect our future dragonets and their safety." It's about the dragons, see, it's important. Zavyr wouldn't want to hold back information that could hurt baby dragons, right?

Miel will just weather that affectionate eye-roll from Vosji with a smirk that almost threatens to be a grin. Grinning is not professional, however and so she promptly licks her lips and ducks her head down to hide that. Ahem. Zavyr's evasion leads to some further information about her and it gains the greenrider's attention again. Maybe TOO MUCH! "Doesn't hurt to be prepared, but I think it's best, as Vosji so eloquently put it, to curb the intake of profit for now. Time and place for that," she sounds almost dismissive but as the topic has already been covered, she doesn't go too much further into it. Shifting to stand now, she rolls her shoulders and uncrosses her arms but again, she waits on Zavyr to answer before plying whatever it is she's wanting to ask to Vosji.

"Betting, too, ma'am? Does this making of money ban include betting?" Yes, Zavyr has been right in the middle of a web of betting going on, that likely goes on in every Candidacy. "Because, technically," both brows arch behind that curtain of hair that drapes over Zavyr's fine-cut features, "That wouldn't be making coin until AFTER the Hatching. I have," just the barest hint of amusement wisps over Zavyr's visage, "Taken any and all odds that I shall not Impress bronze." Zavyr figures that Vosji, at least, knows her true gender. "And there are still new Candidates coming in. I would love to extend to them, as well, an opportunity to lose their marks." Miraculously, Zavyr manages to keep her entire expression totally serious. Miel garners another look, and a slight nod. The Candidate isn't sure that the newest AWLM is 'in' on that particular secret.

"Yes, and if we disallowed betting, we'd have to throw nearly everyone out and that would be just as detrimental to the dragonets as anything else." Vosji does laugh a little at that, one soft chuckle amongst her stern situation handling. Zavyr's methods are also amusing and ingenious enough to her: past candidates who snuck onto the sands dressed as men didn't think to do that. They were just trying to shake things up and best certain Weyrwomen. "I think that bet may serve you well enough in future, in terms of finances. Convincing people to bet on you not Impressing at all nearly always ends in Impression, though, so do mind that one. Now — we have the matter of punishments to determine." Vosji will let the silence hang here, as she normally does, tending to await prompting or questioning from the weyrling or candidate in trouble. If it happens to be Miel who speaks first, well. That's fine too.

Miel WILL be all over that hanging threat of punishment, but first? "Betting against bronze…?" She'll peer a little closer at Zavyr, as Vosji laughs and the topic is bantered about. Not shy in any regard, she'll take the few steps needed to approach the Candidate and, if necessary either bend or crouch to get an even closer look. Don't mind her, encroaching on personal space bubbles here! After a moment of uncomfortable focused staring from her, it clicks. "Oh! … ooh." Now she gets it! And she'll promptly back off, while stifling some snickering-laughter on her part. Yup, not her first rodeo with that masquerade! "Clever, clever! And… maybe just a little cruel?" Bemused, she'll then switch tracts with effortless air. "I was given one of those… 'ghost' weyrs? Is that what they're called?" Oh, poor Miel doesn't know the full history. "If you don't mind me poaching? I'd happily take Zavyr here off your hands. Seems capable enough and I've a lot of things to move in and stuff to hang…" A roll of her hand. This, that… everything. Vosji would remember the greenrider's taste for… extravagance (as far as a rider can get, mind) when it comes to her own private nook.

It's totally wicked and taking advantage of the other candidates' cluelessness in a non-malicious way, and that's why Vosji appreciates it so much.

Zavyr grew up in a very rough place and did learn early not to volunteer any information at this venue. Begging is best suited to after any punishment is decided. Nor does she numerate the coin she's already won from past Candidacy, on her not Impressing. This is neither the time nor the place for that, and that bet has been repeated. Quite possibly, Zavyr will be deep in the red, should she Impress, this time. When Miel approaches, Zavyr actually half-rises, instinct driving self-preservation until it's overriden by common sense and Zavyr settles back into the chair to endure the inspection. Those so-pale eyes study Miel in return, with a keen attention that matches the Candidate's held tension, then switches back to the Weyrlingmaster after Miel returns Zavyr's space to her. The briefest of self-depricating expression fleets over her features, but she remains quiet as the conversation tilts again.

Thank you, Miel. Thank you so much. Vosji, who has known Miel since she Impressed if not longer, has the sort of slow growing smile that turns into a grin spread across her face, and before you know it she looks quite pleased indeed. "Oh, I think that would be a perfect use of the extra time. You've got all of your things on your ledge?" Is her ledge big enough, Vosji doesn't actually ask, though Iskanzivoth may be using the dragon link to pass along that teasing. "I think we can probably spare Zavyr for a few hours a day until the task is completely done and everything's put away and set just so."

Miel claps her hands together and looks all the part of a child just being handed a puppy, from the way she grins and looks far too pleased for it to be good. "Perfect!" Zavyr's either going to come to like this punishment or… not. The greenrider can be a fair bit to handle, when she's not in strict AWLM-mode. "Thank you, Vosji. If we're done here…?" Clearly someone's raring to go, though she'd be happy to go on ahead if the Weyrlingmaster needs a few more words with Zavyr first.

Sensing that this meeting is coming to an end, Zavyr rises, slowly, from the chair and stands quietly in the pose they were taught in PT: Feet under shoulders, hands behind back. But she looks between the Weyrlingmasters with a slightly narrowed suspicion. Still, can't be as bad as the middens. Or that horrific Cold Room. Though, the sense of inviting a known thief to help situation one's weyr…Then again, Miel likely doesn't know yet. And perhaps not Vosji, either.

Also, Miel probably has a good inventory of her vast … collections … of … stuff. Vosji suspects she does, anyway, which is why even if she had reason to be concerned about stealing, she conveniently isn't at this stage. "Yes, yes, you two go ahead. I do actually have important work to do," a glance toward the wooden board and the beads, "that isn't just playing with pieces of glass. I will get back to it, and you'll get to tricking out that weyr of yours. We'll come by later and see how it's going." She waves them off with a nod of the head and a (playful) literal wave toward the door, then opens a drawer to pull out some actual kind of ledger that is going to completely distract her for the next few hours.

Miel actually goes as far as to wrinkle her nose when Vosji pulls out that ledger. "Have fun with that!" She's on good enough terms to get away with it, right? Before she really does push the wrong buttons, however, she'll gesture for Zavyr to follow her. "Come on, then. Better to get started now, before the day gets much later. Don't want to keep you from… the other joys of Candidacy." Dry sarcasm there, but hey, it's honest! Then she's out the door, with only a moment of pause to be sure that Zavyr's sticking to her side. Miel does keep track of most of her stuff! Some small things could go missing without her noticing though or even if she did clue in? She's not possessive as, say, Divale… who would hunt the person in question down.

The Candidate salutes Vosji and turns to pad after Miel, "Yes ma'am. Of course." Indeed, the woman likely will enjoy the task of sorting and putting items into places, though she may well be overwhelmed by the surplus of stuff; the entirety of her possessions fits quite loosely in Lane's old duffel and that is hidden deep in the caves well past the boundries of Kurkar Hold.

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