Fort Weyr - Records Room

This windowless room is brightly illuminated with electric lights and glow baskets alike. Shelf upon shelf of books and hides, carefully catalogued, line this room. A few small desks are in the middle of the room, for studying, and the room boasts a pair of computer terminals for electronically archived research as well.

It has been some time since the incidents at the cothold, but, with the more time that has passed, the more Dtirae seemed to be on edge. Slowly, but surely, the tension has begun to rise in the younger goldrider's form to the point where she snips at the Weyrwomen, her elders, and the Weyrleader over the smallest of things. Though it never slips past from somewhat respectful before she dismisses herself. Finally, someone's had enough. P'on, on a particularly bad night in which he was thrown (literally) from the Weyr sought out the Weyrleader and practically begged the man to have a word with the goldrider. Said goldrider sits alone now, looking over her work that she refuses to do in any other room, as people tend to flock to other areas more than the quiet records room.

It is a strange thing, how the weather outside can be edging on an impending storm, which adds a delightful bit of foreshadowing as Th'ero, now freed from some pressing matter or another, strides back to the council rooms. The Weyrleader is in one of his brooding moods and if he senses the irony between his current mind frame and the weather hanging over Fort Weyr, he makes no comment on it. Time has done nothing to lessen his grim thoughts on the Stonehaven incident, regret and stress still gnawing away at him though he's careful to keep that from showing or from his temper flaring. Having had his night of peace interrupted by P'on's abrupt arrival and begging for his intervention, Th'ero finally agreed, even if just to calm the young bronzerider. What little respect he has for him though and his own sense of duty and promises, the Weyrleader does make good on his word, regardless of how reluctant he is to cross paths with Dtirae, given how she's been short and snippish with him lately as well. Quietly, he opens the doors leading to the all but abandoned room and just as quietly shuts the door behind him once he's slipped inside. It's not hard for him to pinpoint the goldrider and with slow, heavy steps, Th'ero approaches until he's standing across from her. "Dtirae," he says in a low and firm tone, clearing his throat a little and skipping formalities and pleasant greetings. "We need to talk."

At first, the entrance of another does not stir the goldrider from her work, especially considering people have been known to drift in and out of the records room from time to time. Overall, however, the place was known to be the most quiet, undisturbed areas of the Weyr. The speaking of her name draws grey eyes from her work, to settle on the man who stands before her and narrowing slightly in annoyance for the interruption. "Weyrleader." No name, as that alone speaks the annoyance rather than simply snipping at him. Her gaze lowers again, but she does not continue her work, merely tapping the stylus onto the paper she writes on. "What for? I haven't messed up any work since, well, awhile ago." Her nose wrinkles and slowly, her gaze lifts again to pin him with a blank look.

Th'ero's frown only grows heavier when Dtirae omits his name and maybe once, well in the past, that slight would have made him bristle. But even in his worn state, the Weyrleader has learned a few things and one was to reign in that temper of his, even when frayed. He knows the game, or assumes he does, and as the goldrider turns back to her work, he slides into a nearby chair. But he isn't here to relax, that much can be told by his posture and the rigid way he holds his shoulders and how straight his back is held. Brown eyes meet her blank look, neutral and flat as he locks away most of his current emotions and settles for cool and indifferent for now. "No, you're work has been fine, given the circumstances." Th'ero murmurs, pausing only to let a vague smirk tug at the corners of his mouth before continuing, straight and blunt, right to the point of his impromptu and unusual interruption. "P'on paid me a visit last night and while I normally don't mind visitors, I was in the middle of enjoying a rather peaceful night. I did not intend to cater to a very upset bronzerider." His smirk becomes larger as he speaks, his hands now settling to fold loosely in his lap as he gives Dtirae a long, lingering look. "This isn't quite like you. What's got you so troubled?" Th'ero does soften his tone a little, just a little, when he asks.

Dtirae's gaze is wary as he slides into a chair near by, meeting his gaze and her expression remains rather blank and neutral. Even with the statement that her work has been fine, considering the circumstances, she does not break the mask to give a slight smile nor even a grimace for the thought. She simply remains staring at him before the smirk tugs at the corners of her lips. Her brows lift slightly in response, confusion briefly flickering past the mask that she insists on wearing until it shatters completely at the mention of P'on. That, alone, is enough to make the mask disappear entirely as an uncharacteristic blush spreads across her cheeks, and slowly creeping down towards her neck. There's no apology, merely the attempt to avoid his gaze as she continues to tap her stylus upon the paper, her work completely forgotten. The question only earns silence for a long moment, the tapping growing more rapid before she tentatively meets his gaze. While the goldrider doesn't normally show vulnerability, there it is and she's gone from looking like a strong young woman to the point where she's suddenly looking like a child, uncertain and fearful. "I ain't been this afraid since… A long time. I ain't ever seen anything like that… With people. Would be used ta bodies, but…" She shakes her head and the stylus drops so that she may press her palms into her eyes, trying to block out the image. "'m afraid and I hate it…"

Th'ero's expression doesn't change even as the blush creeps across Dtirae's cheeks and down her neck, not even quirking a brow up in surprise. There's only a vague knowing look to the Weyrleader's eyes and then it's gone, replaced by his mask of neutrality as they continue their little dance around each other. When she does show her vulnerable side though, he eases off and he leans back a little, some of the tension leaving his posture as the goldrider comes right out with the truth of the matter. Relieved that he won't have to go pressing her for details, Th'ero waits until she's finished speaking before taking his turn. "Dtirae," he says, in a gentler tone and trying not to sound too sympathetic, uncertain of how she'd react to such a gesture. "It's alright to be a little afraid. Good to be, even. What happened up there," And even here, the Weyrleader falters, his frown deepening and his mouth draws downwards in a thin grimace. "That is not something anyone is prepared for, even myself. Death is hard enough when under normal circumstances. Have you spoke to no one since the night we stumbled on Stonehaven?"

The sound of her name has the woman slowly pulling her hands away from her eyes, staring at the Weyrleader as he speaks. The tone of his voice causes her shoulders to relax a little, the tension slightly flickering away and her gaze lingering on the face of the Weyrleader. His words, though comforting, bring a slight frown to the woman's brows as she stares at him a moment longer and the frown grows deeper when his own begins to show. Dtirae says nothing, merely nodding once in understanding before she's pausing. "No. Ain't sure who ta talk ta… Don't want ta burden anyone with what we saw. Don't want ta bother P'on or my friends. Shit, Th'ero, you can't just go and tell someone 'bout it…" Tension returns, shoulders tensing and the woman begins to grow tense all over again.

What hold he had on keeping his expression neutral falters and slips the moment Dtirae tenses on him and delivers her reply. Th'ero can only stare at her, almost incredulous and for a few moments there is nothing but his eyes fixating on her in a long and lingering look before the Weyrleader finally breaks the silence. Leaning back in his chair, he keeps his focus solely on her and his voice is low, though there is likely no one there to overhear their conversation. "Word has spread as it is. You'd burden no one, as everyone knows. The Wings were first to know and I only just had to quell panic not long ago when it spread among the weyrfolk, thanks to a foolish and drunken guard. You should /know/ this." He stresses softly, not meaning to chide the goldrider but doing so in his surprise that she's kept her thoughts suppressed so long and he being oblivious to it. "And why not P'on? He seems to care enough for you if he was ready to kick down my door in the dark of night." Th'ero snorts a little then, smirking. "So yes, Dtirae," he says with a bit of an edge following her name. "You can and you should. It's obviously eating away at you."

"Word spread, yeah. But, the truth different from rumor. Seein' it is different than rumor. They can talk all they want, they ain't seen it." Dtirae insists firmly, meeting his eyes with a stubborn look, nose wrinkling. "I know it's spread, but I ain't goin' ta add fuel ta the fire…" Shoulders drop, the will to fight suddenly gone as she leans back in her seat. The stylus and her work is forgotten, fingers lacing together as she stares at her hands, attempting to find different ways in which she can place them together. "That's true." Silence picks up again, eyes going distant for a moment before she's looking up to the Weyrleader. Grey eyes search his face and then, she relents with the slightest of smiles. "Thanks. I'll finish this in a few hours." The work is left where it is as she pushes from her chair and makes her way from the records room, away from the work and into the comfort she so rarely indulges in.

"Speaking your mind in private to someone you trust or love is not adding fuel to the fire." Th'ero fires back after quietly listening to all Dtirae has to say. It's likely he was even nodding his head slightly in agreement, but the Weyrleader is being stubborn in the sense that he will make her understand the need to talk, regardless if the goldrider agrees or wants to. He watches her carefully when her shoulders suddenly drop, his tensing in respose as he braces for anything. In the end, Th'ero looks only relieved and a little surprised when Dtirae relents and gives her a searching look then, gaze drifting over her in an almost questioning manner before he lets himself smile faintly in return. "No a problem. And Dtirae?" he begins to ask, as she pushes from the chair and he rises to his feet in turn. "Next time, tell P'on he can have Davarnesonth bespeak Velokraeth before he comes pounding on my door, unless the emergency is too great." It's hard to tell if the Weyrleader is joking, as he keeps his tone fairly neutral and his expression as well save for the slight smile. Th'ero dips his head then in a brisk nod of farewell, leaving her to make her escape and then doing the same himself.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.