Fort Weyr - Weyrleader's Offices

Aged by time, this office has lived through the ages of Fort though the decor has likely changed time and time again as new leadership comes to fill the offices. The main set up is where the juniors work, three desks settled in the main office that is lined with means to house the old records and reports. Various potted plants are around the office to give a touch of color. From this singular area, the office branches off into two different sections: The Senior's office and the Weyrleader's office. Both furnished to fit the needs of the Weyrleaders along with small flares of personal touch.

A carefully worded, precise summons has been delivered to the Weyeleader. Clearly signed by the Senior Weyrwoman, carefully signed and promptly sent on its way. The woman is settled at the Senior's desk, idly playing with one of her hunting knives as she waits. A bottle of rather expensive rum is settled neatly in the middle of her desk as she continues to play with the knife. The urge to start leaving marks in the wood is lingering in her grey eyes, lips curling into an idle smile suddenly.

As promptly as the summons is sent, so does a reply return in time. Only it's not written and comes in the form of Th'ero himself. The Weyrleader is dressed in his riding gear, though as he strides through to the offices from the council chambers, he's already shrugging from the jacket and draping it over his arm. There's a brief knock to the door and then he's slipping inside to the Senior's portion of the offices. His glance fixes immediately on Dtirae and the knife in her hand, a slight frown settling on his features. The swelling on his jaw has gone down and it's hard to tell if he ever was punched by the goldrider at all. "I got your summons." He murmurs, skipping formalities as he stands as far from the desk as possible without being entirely rude. But it's obvious there is an unseen strain there, from the way Th'ero holds his posture tense and stiffly.

Dtirae looks up at the knock and then promptly puts the knife away, not wanting to make the man think she's summoned him to chop off his manbits. Or other parts. The knife is then slid into one of the desk drawers and she offers him a smile, though it is sheepish and lacking in the confidence that she normally exhibits. "Thank you for coming… I made it formal because I was certain you'd ignore me." She points out softly and then gestures for him to sit. Shortly after the gesture, she gingerly nudges the bottle of rum closer to his edge of the desk. "Look… I ain't good at words. Or actin; serious or actin' like I care 'bout shit. But, I'm goin' ta work on it. I was out of line ta punch ya. I let our," the emphasis on the our indicates Zuvaleyuth as well, "anger get the better of me. I'd like ta… Try and start over. Sit and talk. Person ta person. Because… Well. We ain't off on the right foot."

Truth be told, Th'ero /was/ curious as to why she had the knife and was giving it a few subtle, darting looks. Considering their track record of late, none can really blame the bronzerider for being a little overly cautious and wary. Once it's gone though, his focus settles completely on Ditrae and her lack of confidence and noticeably sheepish smile are instantly notice. And also may explain why his frown eases back and his brows lift in a slightly surprised way. "Then you don't know me very well." He replies curtly and in his usual low voice. At the gesture, it appears at first as if Th'ero might ignore it and remain standing. In the end though, he takes the few short strides to a chair and settles himself into it, though he's far from relaxed. But he's listening and while his frown returns and his expression remains blank and neutral, there seems to be no sign of anger in him. "No, we are not." He agrees after a lengthy pause of silence that edges on awkward. The bottle of rum is eyed and then he's giving the young goldrider a long, searching look, as if trying to sense a trap. "You were out of line and perhaps so was I. But… I am willing to start over. Sit and talk, as you said."

"I don't." Dtirae points out simply, "and you don't know me very well, either." She offers in return, but then settles into a silence as he at first seems to ignore her offer of a seat. But when he finally settles in, she relaxes herself and smiles a little more at ease. Her hands fold carefully on the desk, considering the bottle for a long moment before lifting her gaze. "Look, I ain't tryin' ta poison you or anythin'. The seal is fixed in place. I can't run a Weyr without a Weyrleader. And, you're a good one. So… I can't do it without you." Bluntly put, she then drops her gaze and leans back into her seat. "You were a bit. Look: I ain't good with emotional stuff. Humor's been my defense. I ain't goin' ta lie about it. I ain't going to change right away, but, I'll try. I need you ta work with me." The woman then looks uncomfortable and then, slouches down into her seat, slightly. "I ain't sure how ta start this. Other than tryin' ta find some common ground and attempt ta build some sort of trust? That's how this works, right?"

Th'ero dips his head in a vague acknowledging nod to her returned remark. It's true, he doesn't know her well either. His mouth does quirk upwards briefly when Dtirae speaks bluntly, amused for the little quip on poisioning him. So once he can, the Weyrleader reaches for the bottle, inspecting the label curiously before gently setting it back to the desk. It's been accepted. Her words must surprise him again, because he's sitting back in his seat now, tension draining from his posture once he begins to realize she's being completely and utterly serious. "I wasn't about to leave you in the lurch, despite all that occurred. Fort needs stable Leadership and Fort comes first above all." Th'ero drawls and from his tone he's dead serious. Even if Dtirae had proved to be difficult, had refused to meet him on neutral ground like this, he would have weathered it, if it meant keeping some facade of stability. "Not asking you to change entirely. But you went too far. And I… could have handled it better. I see that now." Of course, it took her punching him before he really clued in. The Weyrleader pauses for a moment to fold his hands loosely on his lap, head tilting downward as he stares thoughtfully at some point on the desk. "Trust is the larger part of things, yes. So this is a start."

Dtirae's smile twitches into something a little more amused as she notes that slight quirk of his lips, apparently thinking that this is a start. It grows a little wider as he inspects the bottle and therefore accepts it as well. There's another relaxed stance that she takes, shoulders settling. The urge to joke with the man is restrained, for this, at least. A time to be serious, a time to learn and try to better herself is taken entirely serious. Fingers twitch, though, the only indication of her focus. "I know Fort does. It's my home, I ain't wantin' it ta suffer. My issue was… I was worried I couldn't do it. I ran, though." She doesn't elbaborate more than that, fingers tapping idly, dull thuds against the arms of the chair, thoughtfully tilting her head in consideration. "I've got ta be more… Sympathetic? Not try ta laugh everything off. Be more open. Elara and I were talkin' 'bout it. Not ta say I won't make some comments at you now and again. But…" A shrug, the woman struggling on the words as her fingers begin to tap more rapidly. "What else, now?"

The longer Dtirae holds back her teasing, the more Th'ero seems to relax and become at ease around the goldrider. It's still not complete and probably won't be for a long time to come. He'll always be wary, waiting and cautious, but it'll be hidden and lingering below various masks. "We all make mistakes." He points out slowly, as if unsure if it's the words she wishes to hear or if he's not entirely convinced he should be uttering them at all. The Weyrleader is just as awkward at this. So he shifts uncomfortably in his seat for a moment, before smirking lightly. "Elara does have a good point. Sympathy can go a long way, in the right situations. You should heed her advice. She's a good source of experience. Especially if you're feeling so… uncertain on your own skills." Th'ero notes the finger tapping and so keeps his voice as low and calm as possible. "I'm normally not so uptight over teasing comments, Dtirae. It was just… not good timing. Doesn't mean I shouldn't have thrown your rank at you." And he's sorry. He can't say it, but enough of it may show in his expression at least. The Weyrleader shrugs then, lifting his hands up to spread them outwards before folding them in his lap again. "We start from the beginning, if we're both in agreement and understand where we both stand."

Dtirae's restraint is in the form of those finger tapping, but the longer it goes on, the less amount of tapping there is. As he settles at ease with her, she is settling at ease with the restraint of her teasing comments. There's a slow breath and then his comment earns a brief look, startled before she slowly nods. The mistakes comment is entirely true, and the admittance of it from the Weyrleader has the woman relaxing a little bit more and that smile that settles on her lips is as one of relief. "Oh. I know. I plan on listenin' ta her. She knows a lot and… She was trainin' me before I graduated. But, at that moment, I forgot everything and ran. I ain't goin' ta forget again." This time, she states it a little stronger than the uncertain comments from before and grey eyes harden with determination and she smiles widely at him. And it grows just a little wider at his not-apology-apology. The woman rises from her seat and leans briefly over the desk, offering a hand out to the man. "Let's work on buildin' trust, then. Thank you for comin'."

"Good." Th'ero remarks and it's sincere when Dtirae admits to not only her mistakes but to her understanding and willingness to improve on it. That's all he needs and the Weyrleader likely takes it better then any apology the goldrider could have given. "Stress can force people to do strange things. And I'm sure you've experienced that enough to know that now." And though he's subtle about it, he means not only her, but himself as well and possibly even Neyuni, given the circumstances of her stepping down. Dtirae's smile has him quirking one of his own, though it's a touch lopsided and perhaps a little strained. "Agreed. We'll start there." Th'ero murmurs as he slowly rises to his feet and reaches to clasp her hand formally and firmly. Then he's withdrawing it and he looks every bit the part of his rank as he reaches for the bottle of rum and tucks it under the same arm that holds his jacket. "Of course." He drawls, turning to leave but not before he pauses to add, "It takes a lot to admit faults, let alone apologize. So… thank you, for showing that much respect at least." Before that can sink in and ratchet up a fair amount of awkwardness that Th'ero is already feeling, he nods his head in a brisk farewell and then is gone.

'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.