Who

Mayte, Vergora

What

Candidate Mayte strikes up a conversation with former Weyrwoman Vergora. It doesn't end well for either.

When

22nd day, fifth month, first Turn, 12th Pass

Where

Igen Weyr Hatching Galleries

OOC Date

 

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Hatching Galleries

Though occasionally cleaned by ambitious (or neurotic) drudges or weyrbrats being disciplined, the lack of Eggs over the last several Turns has led to the Galleries falling into a state of disrepair. Sand can be found…well, everywhere. On the benches, under the benches, on the railings and walkways. There is also the random tidbit leftover from people who've wandered into the gathering place since the last cleaning. A random bit of cloth here, a bit of something that might have been a carving-in-progress once there.


As evening settles dark and clear over Igen, the temperatures begin to drop. With the usual fascination of Things on Sands, it's not unusual to find a few people in the galleries this time of night. It's a little unusual for Vergora to be there, however. She's sitting in the foremost row of benches, hands folded placidly in her lap. Her Healer minder for the moment is stationed several rows up, chatting quietly with one of the local bazaar folks while very idly cutting a fresh piece of linen into smaller squares, which then get folded by the non-Healer and placed in a large wicker basket.

For all the eggs on the Sands, it's interestingly bare of Candidates this evening, as temperatures drop. Little Candidates, dreaming of eggs, tucked in their beds - the Candidates, that is. Mayte, on the other hand, is entering the Galleries, two books in hand as she traipses down the steps, a polite nod to anyone who interrupts her movement. The girl pauses so momentarily to eye the crowd, and then moves down to near where Vergora sits, a row back, just inauspicious enough to not draw attention… until Mayte sets her books down with a 'thud'. There's a look of 'oops' to follow it.

Vergora is sitting so still she could be meditating, but when Mayte drops the books with a thud, the former goldrider slowly turns, sepia brown eyes owlishly wide. She focuses on the teen's face first, then that telling white knot. "Candidate," Vergora says in a tone that is nearly regal. Losing the manic look might have helped. When the older woman blinks, though, her expression relaxes, focus wandering toward the empty rows, the few people seated higher up, then finally around to the eggs. And the dragons. The more astute might notice a tensing of hands, parchment-thin skin making her white-knuckled fists almost ghoulish.

Books collected so quickly, Mayte hugs them to her chest protectively, but it's only Vergora's voice that sounds even nearly chastising. She, for one, doesn't notice any clenching of hands, eyes training more on Vergora's expression, like a thing looking at another thing that could bite, or not. Mayte's mouth opens a few times, and closes, finally coming up with the simple word, "Madame." She observes the way Vergora watches the place, and adds, "I, ah… heard that the eggs are supposed to hatch soon." Making polite conversation; Mayte edges closer.

Vergora's head twitches toward Mayte when she mentions the eggs, though her eyes remain focused on Elicheritath. There is a hard swallow, then a narrowing of eyes before she muses quietly, "That is not Dejuirth," the long-dead gold who once spawned Kohleth. Eyes narrow further as she stares at that massive clutch. "This isn't right at all. This isn't…" She suddenly turns toward Mayte, honing in on the white knot and even reaching toward it, though she doesn't come close to actually touching. "Who gave you that, child?" It could have been matronly. Caring! Instead, there is a hostile grating that gives the question a harsh undertone.

Mayte came long after the time of Dejuirth, and so doesn't show any recognition at the name. Instead, she shakes her head slowly, "No…" Is that a note of wariness in her voice? No, Mayte's trying to smile as she cranes her neck to look at her own knot, "Uh, the clutchfather." Surely Mayte knows the man's name: "Uh, El'ai. Sekhaenkath's rider," the latter being said with much more certainty than his rider's name. A hand waves out shortly to the Sands, "He kinda pulled me onto the Sands as the eggs were still being laid." Despite having so many sevendays to get over this fact, Mayte smiles gamely with a tone of disbelief in her words, "It was a surprise."

This answer does not help anything. AT ALL. Vergora's eyes go from narrowing to widening. Is that outrage? A massive dose of confusion? A mixture of both? Whatever the reason, it culminates with her standing suddenly, lips parted as she hisses at Mayte. "Liar!" she shouts, effectively cutting off nearby conversations. Her Healer minder quickly tries to disentangle himself from the linen but gets caught up, nearly pitching forward onto the row below. "Liar!" Vergora seethes again, pointing directly at Mayte. "There is no such dragon as Sekhaenkath, you lying little—." Whatever word she might have used is lost as she's suddenly distracted by the clatter of boots as the Healer manages to make it to her side, rather roughly wrapping one arm around her shoulders, while his hand goes around her mouth. Vergora's expression screams her sense of indignity as well as the muffled ones trying to break through.

From comrade-like confessions to accusations, Mayte rears back, arms holding the books before her in case Vergora… what, wants to read up on decorative sewing? Maybe not the best first title. Still Mayte's looking like an ovine has decided to take a bite out of her (clearly Mayte knows little about ovines), "What? Liar?" Ovine attack versus attack on integrity? Mayte's looking flustered, "No, I mean, it happened right," wave over the sands where HOPEFULLY Elicheritath hasn't heard anything, "Over there! And the bronze over…" Mayte's looking out over the ledge urgently - where is that bronze ass? - "Well, he's usually here!" And then Healer. Mayte looks at the Healer minder in shock: "I swear, I was only talking with her…"

That Healer might have a minor glare for Mayte, though it's likely more because she's nearby than anything accusatory. Vergora, though? Senility does not mix well with restraint, and the failing woman proves that now as she grips that Healer's arm with both hands, white-knuckled fingers coming close to scraping, though she's mostly trying to pry away the arm. Her feet are not idle, kicking so much that there is a ripping sound, likely from the slip under her dress. One shoe goes flying directly toward Mayte. Does she dodge as well as a Texan? The other shoe goes on, but her kick is aimed over that first row of benches, coming very close to shin-kicking territory.

Hey, lady, this ain't Mayte's fault - she gives the Healer minder a wide-eyed, one-palm-up gesture of 'what', but the Candidate is also moving away from the scene itself. Maybe some distance to quell the situation Alas, Mayte's not moving so quickly that she has a chance to dodge a well-aimed shoe, which catches Mayte right in the books. Right in the books, lady. The girl is staring at Vergora, mouth wisely closing into a thin line before her dark eyes flicker to Vergora's minder - uh I'll be over there?

Vergora's muffled screams of incoherent outrage become suddenly more pronounced after she manages to bite the Healer's hand at her mouth. His own yell is at odds with hers, followed by a low grunt when the still-shoed heel makes contact with his foot. Apparently that was the last straw. Allowing her to yell, he uses both arms to pin her arms to her sides as he bodily drags her from the galleries, right past Mayte. With her mouth no longer shielded, Vergora, at one time a prim and proper long-standing weyrwoman of Igen, hocks a loogie right at Mayte and her books. This is followed by a string of words that almost sounds like, "and the rider you rode in on," but the exact words are uncertain at best. Luckily, her voice quickly fades, ensuring that no eggs were harmed in the production of this scene.

For having been a prim and proper long-standing Weyrwoman, Vergora has deadly accurate aim. Mayte is left with egg on her f… er, spit on her books, wiping it away furiously. Oh no she didn't! … Yeah, Vergora really did. The girl mutters, "Shardit, I have to return these, ya know," and with nary a look to the audience, Mayte has to leave the same way Vergora went. Exit, stage right, even. Don't ask for the encore.

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