Fort Weyr - Weyrleader's Offices

Aged by time, this office has lived through the ages of Fort just as its counterparts have. But unlike the Weyrsecond and Junior Weyrwomen offices, this cavern is spacious and formed in a rough semicircle of three conjoined caves that were carved and modified Turns ago. The middle portion acts as a waiting room of sorts, holding only a few modest chairs and a simple tapestry to otherwise brighten up the plain stone walls. There are no windows here and the only light comes from well placed glow baskets.
To the right, the smaller of the two adjoining caverns has been set aside for the Weyrwoman, a large desk situated in the middle and a bookshelf pressed against the wall. A small hearth allows for some warmth in the colder months and another cabinet rests across the room to hold various supplies, as well as several books, reports and records. More tapestries have been hung there, lending some color to room.
On the left, the larger cavern belongs to the Weyrleader's office and the walls here are littered with a vast array of maps, as well as a tapestry hung behind where he would sit. The desk is large and the wood aged, looking old and a bit worn, but well tended too. Shelves and a bookshelf line one wall, crammed with rolled hides, other maps, books, reports and records and all arranged in an organized chaos. A small hearth has been built in here as well and various well placed glow baskets are hung to offer just the right amount of light in this windowless office.
Both offices have stout wooden doors that have been carefully worked into the stone. They can be closed and locked if privacy is needed but are often left open.


It is late afternoon when Dremkoth and Zuvaleyuth emerge from *Between* into the winter skies of Fort Weyr, the transition from tropical sun to heavy, icy rain most likely disconcerting for their riders, but the sunbaked hides retain the heat of warm water swim and sun-lounging. Dremkoth may not have won the goldflight but there's no doubt about the smug note to his trumpet announcing their arrival to the watchdragon as they bank and sweep into the bowl. D'ani is minus his jacket, having once again wrapped the Weyrwoman in it since he so precipitously snagged her *Between* without hers and the rain soaks his shirt by the time they've landed in the soupy mud at the bottom of those stairs to the administration complex.

Dremkoth, meanwhile, as requested by the Weyrsecond, unfurled his twilight to seep into Velokraeth's, Wiyaneth and Varmiroth's minds, announcing with a velvet summer's eve, « We are returned safely. D'ani wishes you to know that Zuvaleyuth is calm and unscathed. He is heading to his office unless his presence is required for report. »

When his rider is dismounted, Dremkoth utters a 'seeya' sort of warble to Zuvaleuth, splishes away, then launches to his ledge and out of the rain to sprawl in his wallow, still smug even though the queen and he have gone their separate ways.

When they arrive to icy rain, Dtirae is glad for the jacket despite the fact that she may have initially protested in taking it. When they dismount, Dtirae's pulling that jacket on tighter, stiffening just a fraction as Zuvaleyuth is trumpeting her own return, quite loudly. She is still Senior of the Weyr, let it not be forgotten. Then? Then the gold goes off to find Velokraeth, leaving Dtirae and D'ani in the bowl. Dtirae says nothing, she simply gives D'ani a slight smile before she's starting towards the offices, to the Weyrleader's more specifically.

Velokraeth had retreated to his private wallow not long after Dremkoth snatched Zuvaleyuth and had not rejoined the flight for Iaverulth. He likely would have remained in there, given the icy and cold weather but when news filters from his little web of gossip that the pair have returned, the stunted and malformed bronze hauls himself to his feet. Waddling out, he rumbles in displeasure as the cold rains patter against his hide, but he simply hunkers down and waits to watch their return. The pale bronze's thoughts will reach out, warmed and spiced but carrying an underlying sharpness much like a dry red wine. « Yours is required in the Weyrleader's office, or so mine requests. » And there seems to be little room for any other option in Velokraeth's tone. « They will join him shortly. » Wait, they're (likely implying Th'ero and Kimmila) not already there? He will cut the link abruptly then, likely just as Zuvaleyuth takes wing again and seems intent on finding him. Confused and perhaps a touch wary, Velokraeth will step back on his ledge, giving her plenty of choice room to land while he dips his misshapen head in a quasi-greeting and vague bow. M'lady?

« It's about damn time, » is Wiyaneth's disgruntled reply as the older queen roars in an almost challenging call back to the young whippersnapper dragons, though a slight mental tug suggests she's being reined in by her rider. She makes no other comments though, but she does press heavily against Dremkoth's mind for a moment before she eases up and shifts away. « You and your rider are well? » she asks Zuvaleyuth next, privately. Up on Velokraeth's ledge, Varmiroth hastily scoots away from his friend to allow the gold room to land, hopping down to Wiyaneth's ledge to rest with that gold and leave Velokraeth and Zuvaleyuth some time alone, unless the bronze protests his leaving.

There's no jealousy on Dremkoth's part as Zuvaleyuth seeks her mate. Even though as wings through the rain to his home, he turns his head to watch her fly to Velokraeth's ledge. It's more to assure himself - perhaps at his rider's behest - that she flies well and took no hurt with him yanking her *Between*. Aged and irate queens, gotta love 'em! He blows a mental kiss to the old gold as he settles on his ledge and heads inside. D'ani's steps turn from his intended route to follow Dtirae, knocking lightly on the door before he enters, peers around and spotting only the Weyrwoman says wryly, "Th'ero… and probably Kimmila… are on their way." Brace yourself to hear some shouting? His levity is all surface though. Inside he's somber to say the least. Aaaaand rather than drip on one of the seats, he heads over to the hearth and adds a few logs to the banked coals there. The heat will begin the drying process to the shirt plastered to him.

Zuvaleyuth gives a gentle croon as Velokraeth welcomes her to the ledge, a tilt of her head in return to his own greeting before a gentle rumble of amusement comes forth for that bow. There is also a rumble of greeting that is given to the departing Varmiroth before she scoots in with a gentle croon. « Hail mine Velokraeth, this one gives her many apologies. » She'll settle there on the ledge and perhaps try to offer a gentle comfort to the bronze before she reaches out to answer Wiyaneth's question. « We are as the flowers with a fresh rainfall; refreshed, soothed, nourished. No harm hath come upon mine or myself. »

Dtirae is silent in the office, still wearing the jacket but holding it more like a safety device rather than as an article of clothing meant to keep one warm. She's gone pale again, completely silent. D'ani's arrival doesn't shake her from her thoughts, but when he speaks she gives a very slight jump. "Of course." The jacket is then held tighter, shoulders lifting to hunch and slightly hide her face within the neck of the jacket.

Velokraeth will indeed protest Varmiroth's departure with a hasty rumble to the blue. Bros before…uh, golds? He doesn't have to leave! Though he won't blame the other for wanting to escape, as the bronze has no idea what mood Zuvaleyuth is in or what her intentions are in the visit. He has an idea, but he'd be a fool for putting too much hope into it (at least in his mind). Her greeting and amused rumble has him cocking his head to the side quizzically and then he exhales in a gusty sigh. « No apologies needed, fair lady. Though you did give us quite the fright, all is well. Most importantly, you are safe and so is Dremkoth and both your riders. » But for how long? Brace yourselves, for the sound of heavy foot steps can soon be heard echoing through the outer caverns and heralding the arrival of Th'ero. The Weyrleader is in… a dishevelled state? Clothing rumbled and hastily dressed, hair looking as though it really needs to see a comb soon and a faint flush to his skin that could be part from the cold and part from his brisk pace to the office. There is no shouting or yelling as he waltzes right in. His office, right? Pausing just short of the doorway, he fixes both the soaked state D'ani is in and then Dtirae with a heavy frown. "Sit, both of you." he says in a low, stiff tone and he promptly moves forwards to step behind his desk and settle heavily into his chair. There will be spare chairs for all and it seems he does not care if they are dripped upon by wet clothing. Nothing more is said, though he will watch them with an expectant (and possibly impatient) look.

Varmiroth will stay down here, thank you. Chatting away with Wiyaneth and perhaps sent there to keep the old queen occupied so she doesn't tear into Zuvaleyuth or Dremkoth any more. Have fun up there, Velokraeth. Kimmila is swift to follow Th'ero, the bluerider also in a bit of a state of dishevelment, her hair freed from its braid and tangled a bit, though she's trying to yank it into submission. Peering at D'ani and Dtirae with a frown, she ducks back out for a moment and then returns with one of the throw blankets from the outer couch, handing it to D'ani. "Don't get pneumonia," she mutters with a frown before she settles into a chair. Slouched there, she also seems expectant for someone else to speak first, peering down at herself and then frowning when she realizes a button is missing from her tunic. How'd that happen? She just shifts a bit and tucks the two ends together, and hopes no one notices the gap.

Since D'ani is in the middle of building up that fire, he doesn't turn around right away, though he certainly does hear the approaching footsteps and directive. He misses Kimmila's peek in and exit. He tosses that last log onto the fire, sending up a shower of sparks, turns while brushing his hands together and only then is his face visible. His nose is purple, the bruising seeping underneath both eyes, which are still a touch glassy. The nose itself is swollen and appears broken and he's missing the collar button to his soaked shirt. "Yessir," he says evenly, noting the disheveled state of the Weyrleader, but says nothing as he seats himself. Hearing Kimmila's mutter, he turns to her, blinks and slowly takes the throw she's handing him, leaning forward to wrap it around himself. He's at least chosen the chair closest to the fire, even if it is in front of Th'ero's desk. He does note Dtirae's pale and hunched self, quizzical about that but refrains from calling attention to that. Awkwaaaard silence! He is not great with those and yet he says nothing yet, waiting politely for Th'ero to begin.

Zuvaleyuth's mood is not hard to figure out, at least. She's lifting a wing, an offering for the bronze to join her side, to rest, to seek comfort in one another. Because, she clearly seems intent on staying until she is asked to leave.

Th'ero's entrance is noticed by Dtirae's grey eyes, they merely follow the man's path, making no comment on his state of dress. She's tensing up, however, just a little more. The offer to sit is not taken right away, it is only when Kimmila enters and settles into a chair that she moves. She'll settle down, quietly, like a child who has been scolded and is still under the admonishing words of their parents. She's clinging tighter to the jacket, sitting awkwardly in the chair. When no one speaks, and the silence lingers between them, it is that moment that the woman breaks. "I'm so sorry. I should have paid attention to Iaverulth, I should have known better. If not that, I should have been able to control Zuvaleyuth…" She sinks lower into the chair. "I am so sorry… I just…" Guilt. There is guilt oozing out of the woman as she lowers her head and, finally, hides her face.

Kimmila's thoughtfulness in grabbing the throw blankets snaps some sense back into Th'ero's mind and his lips curve into a brief, though distracted, grimace. Private orders and requests given, the Weyrleader refocuses then on the current scene and just in time for D'ani to turn around. Brows lift up, surprise writ clear as day over his features before he schools them back to neutrality beneath a displeased scowl. Lips twitch then, half smirked but also strangely smug as if the sight of the bruising and swelling only proves something known only to Th'ero. His eyes dart sidelong to Kimmila and his look is telling to the bluerider: 'I told you so'. "Learned the hard way, have we, D'ani?" he drawls in a voice that should be amused and yet is devoid of it, allowing the sarcasm there to fall flat as he leans back in his chair and folds his arms tightly over his chest. What better way to mask some of the rumbled state of his clothing? Seems none of them are at their best this very moment but what else is to be expected? "You'll see a healer about that," Th'ero goes on to say to the Weyrsecond, levelling him with a stern look that is swiftly moving away as Dtirae begins to break after so awkwardly taking her seat. The Weyrleader only stares at her in disbelief, as if not recognizing the woman across from him and has to blink furiously to regroup his thoughts. "I think the blame for Iaverulth lies a little on all our shoulders. We grew careless in remembering that we have not only one, but two viable young golds. Her and Kouzevelth. As for your control on Zuvaleyuth…" he pauses for a moment, glancing sidelong to Kimmila again. "We were just lucky, in the end of things." Which is the truth, when one really boils it down.

Velokraeth is not as oblivious as his rider and he is swift to put the pieces together. Even if he had any reservations against joining Zuvaleyuth (which he doesn't), who'd be fool enough to spurn an invitation from a gold? So he will take it, approaching her but likely passing on the request that they at least get out of the icy rain and cold where they can talk in comfort and peace.

Kimmila just nods, watching Dtirae for a long moment as the Senior apologizes. No words of comfort come from the bluerider, she just watches and nods, in full agreement with what Dtirae says. Not out of cruelty, but out of a cool practicality, of knowing what /could/ have transpired because of those lapses in judgement. Then her green eyes flick to D'ani and they widen marginally before narrowing slightly. Glancing at Th'ero, she rolls her eyes a bit and then turns to stare at Dtirae, gaze focused. "You've got to stop punching our best riders," she says, low and flat. Then she looks at D'ani. "You know how stupid that was, right?" She's not going to lecture him if he already knows. And from the looks of it, he might at least have a vague idea how risky that was. Outside, Varmiroth enjoys Wiyaneth's company for a moment longer until Elara returns from the Healers with some salve. Gently dismissed by the older queen, the blue hesitates before kicking into the sky and soaring up onto his rarely used ledge to settle there instead.

Up there in his wallow, Dremkoth is blissfully drifting off to sleep, his eyelids sloooowly closing one by one. It's just him and his self-satisfied smug thoughts of warm swimming, hot sand-baking… and oh yes. Saving the senior queen of Fort Weyr all by himself. Dragon egos! Who's got the hero complex? Dremkoth does!

D'ani sighs as Dtirae melts into guilt but now is not the time, nor is it his place to comment on her lackof self confidence. "Thank you," he says sincerely to Kimmila for that blanket she's fetched for him, returning his attention to the Weyrleader just in time to see Th'ero's smirk. "Apparently so," he says ruefully in reply to having learned the hard way. Next time (?!) he'll keep an arm's length away until he's sure there will be no punches flying his way! He'll see a healer - will he ever! He'll take the numbweed and the fellis both, thankyouverymuch. "Yes Sir," he says agreeably enough to that directive. To Kimmila's question (is he really supposed to answer that?) he just shrugs almost irritably. After another awkward pause, he concedes grudgingly, "If Dremkoth's timing hadn't been impeccable, it could have gone worse." He should be repentant. He's not. Save for one thing, "I'm sorry I alarmed you both. And Elara." Giving the retired weyrwoman a heart attack would be a bad thing, yes.

"Yes, we should have considered… And not have forgotten that she isn't the only one that will rise anymore." Dtirae murmurs, having been so used to Zuvaleyuth being the only to rise. And thus, almost costing everything she holds dear and having the Weyr face disaster. But, the crisis was averted. The 'could have' still haunts, no doubt. "It… I…" There's more, it seems, but excuses will bring about no resolution so she says nothing more. It's Kimmila's comment that finally brings some color back into the Weyrwoman's cheeks. "I didn't…" Again, she cuts off her excuses and merely sinks lower into her chair. She finally looks towards D'ani, wincing at the bruising and the purple color in his face. Guilt is back before she's turning her gaze back to Th'ero and then settling in silence rather than speaking further.

It could have been worse? Adrenaline and high stress moments work differently for all and luckily so far all Dtirae has done is swing punches. In comparison to Th'ero's track record (how many times has he almost died?), it seems not as bad. At least, not for the one on the receiving end. And D'ani best heed that lesson or learn to duck and dodge much more swift! The Weyrleader is silent as Kimmila says her piece to D'ani and onward still when the Weyrsecond chooses to reply by simply shrugging. His lack of repenance is noted with a return of his scowl and Th'ero speaks up then in his usual low tone. "Which is exactly why reckless behavior like that is frowned upon!" he points out with a grim smirk, acknowledging the apology with a brisk nod. It was not Elara they had to worry about… "Wiyaneth's wing will hopefully recover," Hopefully. He stresses that word, allowing it to hang in the air. "But it cannot be overlooked either that your quick thinking solved what could have been a disastrous event. However, it was still utterly stupid and foolish. At the very least you could have had Dremkoth warn the others. But what is done is done. There is no punishment for a circumstance such as this." Just warnings and a lot of disapproval. Th'ero takes a slow and steadying breath then, turning his focus back on Dtirae and seeing the Weyrwoman sink lower into her chair, wrought with guilt, the Weyrleader does not weigh down so heavily on her. "It…?" he presses gently, only to sigh and fumble for something more to tell her. Reassurance does not come easily to the bronzerider. "Best we can make of this is take it as a lesson and a warning to be more vigilant in the future. Guilt won't serve much help now." he goes on to say, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. Glancing to Kimmila, he motions for the bluerider to answer. And should she do ask he asks, it will only be an old drudge standing outside, laden with a wooden tray holding various pitchers of hot, warming drinks. No doubt tea, klah and mulled wine. A little of everything for any of the assembled to partake in if they so choose and may be wise if having been soaked and chilled by the winter rains.

Kimmila frowns at D'ani, shaking her head firmly. "It was stupid. You could have killed you both, and then where would we be? It worked, yes, but it was a far greater risk than allowing Wiyaneth and Velokraeth - and Dremkoth, if he had stuck around - to help Dtirae pull Zuva to the ground. I…do we need to teach a class on this?" she asks, looking at Th'ero, baffled. "On what to do in these situations?" Slouching in her chair, she crosses her arms and sighs, rubbing her hands over her face. "What pisses me off, is that you both almost died and you hardly seem to care, D'ani, about the fear you caused us /all/. Not just my mother. Realize for a second how close Fort came to losing you both." And that scared her. A lot. Which is why she's so worked up. "Wiyaneth's wing should mend, but she will be grounded for some time," she mutters. "But," she adds, throwing up her hands, "I don't know. It's done with. I'm just upset. Can't really do anything about it now. You're not dead, everyone is fine except Wiyaneth. The flight was successful and should be a good clutch. So, yeah." Pushing to her feet, she goes to poke the fire with a stick. At the knock on the door she goes to answer it, bringing the tray in and setting it down.

D'ani wants to go to Dtirae and at least touch her arm or hand comfortingly, but he's been told to sit and so he remains in his chair, although the shift might just be the impulse to get up and go to her before he recalls the order. He flickers an almost imperceptible wink at her when their eyes meet, silently asking her not to feel badly about punching him, knowing she will anyway. He's not holding it against her, though he'll certainly remember how stress and adrenaline affects her. His gaze shifts to Th'ero, he nods gravely at the lowly-spoken words though there no guilt on his face until the part about Wiyaneth's wing. Then he's alarmed, contrite. "Wing? We didn't clip her! What's wrong with it?" Kimmila chimes in and he considers her somberly. And while there's still no agreement about it being stupid (once in awhile he can be stubborn), he's far from arrogant. His hand lifts out of habit to rub his forehead, touching the bridge of his nose in the process. Ow! Bad idea, that! Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he cover the wince while admitting tiredly, "To be honest, I'm not sure how much of that was me and how much of it was Dremkoth, but next time I'll try to give you a heads up." Dropping his hand, he stares at Kimmila. He doesn't think they almost died. "Why Kimmila, I almost think you might… care just a little bit." Probably not the best time to tease her, but that's a hint of a grin on his mouth.

"Nothing… I'll handle it." Dtirae notes softly to Th'ero, slowly starting to reel herself in, steeling herself to the point where she is, at least, able to function without cringing with her guilt. His words on how guilt will solve nothing, is likely what has the woman trying to right herself again. "I think a class should be done, with the mating flights… As a precaution with the hope that they will never need to do it." As the tray is settled, the woman fixes herself some klah but she does not remain seated. A glance is given to D'ani, the wink is spotted and a slight smile touches her lips. "If you'll forgive me, I will be taking my leave. I don't think my presence is exactly required and I'd like to apologize to Elara." She takes a sip of the klah before she's making her way to the door. She'll pause, in case there are any protests but departs if there are none.

Th'ero had been content to let Kimmila speak her mind, his eyes observing both D'ani and Dtirae intently and pulled away only because the bluerider addresses him. Well, not verbally but he can sense her glance and looks over to meet her eyes and simply shakes his head. The Weyrwoman beats him to it however and he can only change his grim smirk to a faint, thin smile. "Couldn't hurt, even though these events are rare." Very and from his tone he wants it to remain as such. His gaze will follow Kimmila as she pushes to her feet, but he has nothing further to add and from the expression he wears on his features, it's clear that Th'ero agrees with her on many points. D'ani's alarm has him tilting his head towards his weyrmate, motioning for the bluerider to speak up on that particular detail. "Kimmila knows the details more than I, but it is an old injury." he murmurs, leaving it at that and for her to pick up from there. The stubbornness is noted with a long, hard look given to the Weyrsecond but the Weyrleader does not call him out on it — not at the moment anyways. Th'ero is a stubborn man himself and shares a small shred of understanding for D'ani's stance on the issue of his and Dremkoth's actions. One thing's for certain, he is not amused and at the teasing remark to Kimmila, he snorts and quickly mutters, "Of course she cares. We both do! It would have been a devastating loss." Despite his stoic and neutral expression, his words do ring with honest truth behind it. Th'ero may not show it often, but he does have feelings and actually does care about those close to him. And for the Weyr as a whole. Dtirae's soft reassurance only earns her another lingering and studying look before the Weyrleader nods his head slowly. He does allow some concern to show, especially once she rising to her feet and apparently is taking her klah to go. "Of course. Not required, but always welcomed," Th'ero goes on to amend and allowing the Weyrwoman to take her leave. One that he then extends to D'ani. "You may go as well. Unless you have anything more to discuss, I don't have much else to say. Aside from rehashing how stupidly wreckless your or Dremkoth's actions were, even though it work out for the best in the end." he says with a shrug and then flicks a hand dismissively, leaning back heavily into his chair until it creaks a little in protest. Th'ero's scowl is brooding, troubled even perhaps as his eyes drop from the Weyrsecond to stare at some point or another. So… this is his chance to run while he can?

Kimmila shakes her head, sitting heavily in her chair again. "No, you didn't, they're all better fliers then that. But she rose to help bring Zuva to the ground, and her old injury makes her wing far too weak for that strenuous of flying. Simple glides she can do, but pushing after a queen to prevent a fight? That was too much. Ironically, she originally broke it trying to save another dragon from falling…" Then she frowns. "I certainly hope there's not a next time. Taking another dragon between is…just…you don't do that." And then she looks at D'ani, and it's a mark of how comfortable she feels around him (both he and Dtirae) that she lets her genuine shock show through. And then hurt. "Of course I care," you idiot. "You think I'd be this upset if I didn't care?" No, that joke fell really flat. When Dtirae leaves, Kimmila just watches her go, shaking her head a bit and sighing. "Fort needs a good Weyrsecond, D'ani. I would hate to lose you right after we got you." Then she's pushing to her feet again, restless.

D'ani would try to stop Dtirae, but she's voiced her intent to see to another and thus he doesn't, just watches her go with some concern. He regrets Wiyaneth's wing injury and the need for her to rise and re-injure it even if it wasn't originally his fault, he had a part in it. "I'll speak to her tomorrow," he murmurs. He ought to meet the retired Weyrwoman anyway. No… next time? He can't promise his irrepressible dragon won't come up with a hare-brained, but brilliant scheme in the spur-of-the-moment to save the world and so he says nothing to this save, "I know, Kimmila, but you know, dragons carry their riders and things *Between; he wasn't about to drop Zuyaleyuth." Maybe they need to do a lesson on what exactly a dragon can't take *Between*. Not that… that would stop Dremkoth, but it might help his rider understand better! He has the grace to look a touch sheepish at Th'ero's… and then Kimmila's comment about caring. One hand lifts to run the back of his neck while he watches her pace. His regard for both of them runs deep and so he rises, addressing them both. "I'm sorry," he says humbly. "I'm honored you care, that you think I'm good. Because sometimes… I am not so sure! But I'll try to rein him in next time. Or at least give you warning. If there's time." He keeps saying next time because… well.. stuff happens? And Dremkoth just can't let stuff go and happen - he's obsessed with… changing outcomes or something. As for the leave to go, he dips his head, salutes and heads out to obey the directive to see the healers. Later, if he sees them and waxes emotional over them caring? Blame the fellis.


'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.