Fort Weyr - Steeped in Tradition Weyr (Inri's)
As a goldrider's weyr, this ledge might be considered predictable, but it is the history that makes it something special, for this is the weyr in which Moreta lived. A wide wallow is plenty large enough for a queen to rest, and have a view of the weyr spread out before her watchful gaze. The interior is lavish and large, walls and floors perfectly smooth and glossy with age and use.

The tall, dark wood cabinet stands easily eight feet tall, and seven feet wide. Hand carved images of the Fortian mountains and woods make it a priceless and ageless piece, well cared for and meticulously oiled, even when the weyr was empty. It no doubt holds many secrets, but those will have to be gently pried from its many cabinets and drawers, secret compartments and whispered history among the drudges. Beside it is a large hearth with a wooden mantle, worn smooth by time and all the hands that have rested there and touched it. Hanging above the hearth is a sketch of Fort Weyr, seen from the skies. The parchment is old and curled at the edges, but the heavy wooden frame and precious pane of glass have kept it safe all these turns. There is a signature and date in the corner, but they're too faded to read properly.

In the back there are three different rooms. One is a large bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, complete with its own bath and closet. The walls are also smoothed and rounded, so good luck getting anything to fit flush against the wall. The bathroom is spacious, with a rather large stone tub, perfect for soaking in after a long day of meetings. Another is a smaller second bedroom with an attached closet and a little hearth, and the third is clearly meant to be an office, if the shelves carved into the wall are any indication.

It's that gross wintry-spring mix of rain-slush-snow-sleet going on outside, one which counts well enough as rain for Kouzevelth's fadey, middling glow to turn into a real glow and bring her to the skies. Was she happy with Rinxyth as her pursuant? Certainly; he was attentive even without words (and she is also a dragon of few words). After the flight she isn't as cuddly as little sister Rhenesath; she's almost distant with her affections. Inri, on the other hand, is the sort to luxuriate in a post-flight nap, and only finally stirs after some mental pressure from Kouzevelth, be it smugness or something else. She doesn't bother sitting up, just opens one eye to see if she can recognize who she ended up with and if she actually made it properly home.

It is always in bits and pieces. Nobody has any solid and coherent memory of what happens during a flight. Flashes of skin and faces and deeds as though glimpsed in the afterglow of a lightning stroke in a storm. Nothing concrete. Such as it is now. Some thing about this flight is and was different than others, but in a thick haze of skin and scales whatever it is cannot be grasped. The back that faces her as whoever she has ended up with sleeps is normal enough but the shoulders are narrower than she would expect. Long brown hair effectively hides a face and deep, even breathing tells that the person is not yet ready to face the world. Rinxyth lies near to Kouzevalth but does not touch her. Sharing her company but not invading her private space. He radiates smugness. He is basking in it. This is the second time that he has done what browns are only supposed to do once in a lifetime. He has proven hmiself to the doubters that he imagines exist. He prods at Ashwin to wake up and share in his smugness and the brownrider pulls the pillow over his head to hide it. "Oh for fuck's sake." Inri gets to hear the uncensored line of thought because it comes out verbally and the face that turns towards her is half hidden by the long hair. He very carefully rolls onto his stomach, making sure the blankets are tucked around him for privacy while he squints. "Hi." He says, wrly. "How do you like your awkward? Not so much of it or heaps of it enhance the flavor?"

"It's not that much, is it?" Inri pulls herself into a sitting position, leans back against the bedframe. No nudity shame here, nor has there ever been with her, really. "Usually it's my not finding flights anything exceptional and relaxed equanimity that puts people off." Or it put some people off, and others appreciated it; it certainly threw D'ani, that first time. And it wasn't as if Ha'ze ever got to experience it! Whatever seems slightly off to her, it's not bothering Inri, for all she remembers (she can't remember anything to complain about, and isn't covered in bruises, so that's enough for her). Kouzevelth's primness is entirely due to a simple, « You seem to catch everyone. » It's not so much judgmental of Rinxyth; it seems almost self-deprecating of her.

"Well." Ashwin starts. "If you don't want to make a big deal out of it that'd suit me just fine." There is a tenseness to a degree beyond the normal. Even with his long hair loose, Inri probably knows who he is even if they have not directly met. He is Ashwin, one of the weyr's wingleaders. He is a brownrider and his Rinxyth caught Rhenesath the time before this last and most recent flight. "They happen. Flights do." Ashwin runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts it back where it belongs. "I've given that speech a thousand times to people who are upset about them. I'm not going to make a huge deal out of it but I really need to ask you not to tell anyone what you found out here. I'm not embarassed about who I am but there are a lot of people who'd ask questions or not understand and I don't care to field that. I don't mind questions being asked if you want to better understand." The speech is robotic and one that he has delivered many times before. It is practiced well. "I don't think that's going to be a problem here." He rolls his shoulder and shrugs; sitting up and when the blankets fall away the answer to what he was going on about becomes obvious. He does not seem troubled past saying what he needed to say. "In the end you end up with who you end up. People worry about /that/ part of things way too much. I've something a flight tradition of ordering a strawberry and cream breakfast. You in?" Rinxyth is not going anywhere for awhile. « Kayeth some time. » He declares as matter of factly. No ego. Just a promise. He is more talkative now that the rage of flight has turned to sleepy lounging. « It pleases me to see small ones of me. »

« If, » not when, « she is not Senior. » Kouzevelth is so used to Kayeth as senior queen that she can't remember any other time, even if she knows there were other times. Times when her dam was, times when people thought she would be, worried Iaveruth might be. « But I am glad, » has a satisfied touch of light drizzle as she relaxes into companionable lounging instead of tenseness. If he loves their eggs everything is just fine with her. Inri, now — Inri knows everyone. Even if she doesn't really know them, she knows who every single person in her Weyr is. "I wouldn't. Spread gossip or make a big deal about something that — isn't a big deal? It's not a big deal, is it?" She may be completely inexperienced with anything but the most binary of genders, may have never even heard of the concept, but there's very little Inri isn't going to just take at face value. No one's been hurt, so she can do that. Face value is fine. "Strawberry and cream is a big deal, though, I can have some brought up."

Ashwin has resolved that it is only a big deal if someone makes it that. It is ironic that he is always braced for it to go badly. It has never happened. Rinxyth selects his chases well. Thus far not one has caused trouble but fear does not go away easily. In fact, Ashwin looks very hard at her. "I appreciate your discretion and open mindedness. Queen flights come with many challenges." His shoulders have receded from their tension and the expression Ashwin always has is on his mouth. Neutrality with a side order of positive. "That would be wonderful. Please." Rinxyth has all of the assurances of loving their eggs. He was a dutiful father on the sands the last time. It is so rare for a brown to be in his position it was treated as an even more special thing than it already was. « Mine does not want to be Weyrleader but does dream about it because that would piss Th'ero off greatly. » No apology but no malice. If there is a rivalry there it has respect. "I know who you are." Ashwin observes. "I haven't met you yet. Hi."

Inri has a reputation for it, open mindedness. She always has, and it's something of what drove her out of her home Hold now so long ago. Her brand of open mind, and other things she let be open, didn't help her fit in much. With all the oddities of a Weyr and its people at hand? She fits just perfectly. Interlocking pieces. "Hard not to know who I am, I guess," she says with a smile that's almost self-deprecating but also oddly satisfied, "even if you don't know much about me. Shocking to think we've never spoken one-on-one, even though that … happens a lot now, more than I'd like it to. I used to really know everyone here at least a little." Whatever issue Kouzevelth might have had being caught by someone who catches so many other dragons that he doesn't make her feel special has been washed away by satisfaction of the thought of eggs, of caring for them, of having another good, reliable sire. « Velokraeth's is a good Weyrleader, » an observation, not a judgment call. She certainly isn't dissuading any trying.

That is true. Open mindedness is not valued in most holds, even in this new era of rapid progression. The people who do not cling to the old ways of doing things and do not look at the new with a paranoid eye are usually branded as being not traditionalists as though that was a curse word. "You are a weyrwoman and thus you are famous. Everyone knows you." Ashwin only confirms what she had speculated. "It would not have been for me. I prefer the anonymity. Keeping a very low profile is vital for my work as well." He smiles with a good attitude and a pleasant demeanor but it is not one that suggests he finds what she says funny. "Is there a reason for that?" He inquires bluntly, not too shy to examine her affairs. AShe brought it up after all. "There was a time that I was like that. I used to tend bar. Knew everyone. Their secrets and their families. Then I stopped doing that and stopped going out for awhile and pretty soon even the people who I thought I knew well had become strangers again. It made me sad for awhile but that is life. Isn't it? People come and go. You find out who the important ones are because they come into your life and they never leave." Gazing at a far off point of stone while he talks, Ashwin might be speaking of someone. « Velokraeth's Th'ero is a good weyrleader. But mine will be family to him some day and he says nobody excels without them being pushed. So he pushes. But it is friendly. » He is thinking about eggs too. Already looking forward to the ones that appear to be like himself the most. A little narciccistic but all male dragons have a bit of that.

Kouzevelth doesn't mind; she's used to it. Most of her mates have fussed over the idea of having little-thems, and after all, she's never clutched a queen, so why not let them think the bronzes and browns the most special? « Truth, » she agrees bluntly, tail swaying a bit. Inri laughs, at the mention of tending a bar, and says, "Me too. I was a bartender, I mean. Brilliant mixologist, I was initially famous for that. Got Searched right out of it. That's where I got the skills for weyrwoman-ing, really. My people person talents were the ones we really needed. My math skills have helped, too, even if the occasional misplaced zero has gotten me in places I don't want to get." Thanks Zhirayr. "The reason people don't know me now, I don't know. I feel like most of my friends have moved on and no one new seems — I intimidate people, somehow." Shrug. She doesn't know how; she's the one walking across the room naked to order breakfast sent up. What's so intimidating?

"I miss it." Ashwin confirms. "There's a fine art to being a bartender. Not as much as a mixologist." He has to nod to her credentials. They are impressive. He considers himself a neophyte in this skill at best. He is smirking before she is done the first part of her monologue. "For a minute I thought you were implying being able to make fine drinks is a necessary skill for a weyrwoman. It would have confirmed suspicions that I have had for years." He watches her wander, a touch evaluating but not a lech. When she turns back his eyes have moved on and he's now lying back down with the blankets around him. No hurry to dress or interrupt the conversation. "I don't find you intimidating, but I don't really find anyone intimidating. A person is just a person. Nobody is any better than the other. I don't judge people until I've known them either. Probably time to make new friends. You might even manage it today if you don't eat /all/ of the berries yourself. It's for the best, we will probably be spending a lot of tiem togeather."

"I would never." Inri pretends to sound gobsmacked and outraged that she might do such a HORRIBLE thing as hog all the berries to herself. She isn't cruel, Ashwin! "I think being able to make fine drinks should be a skill for a weyrwoman, but I'm afraid it isn't. Though I do make sure that the others are given nice wines and blends that suit their personalities. I was always a fruity twist sort of girl, and was told that I'd grow out of it, they were 'teenage drinks.' Absolutely not true, I still love my fruity icy vodka things." If they have better names, she isn't bothering to reveal them.

She could be cruel. Ashwin is still learning about her. It may be that she has the nicest exterior in public but is really a mean 'ol person in private. Or maybe not. "Nobody grows out of what tastes good." Ashwin says, lowly. "If they did there wouldn't be such a market for fine wine let alone someone who can string parts of a drink into something greater than the individual components." He is waking up now as well, wincing at the state that his hair is in. "Trouble you for a brush?" The question comes, then the alchohol talk wanders on. "I always had a thing for quality beer. It's harder to get than people think. I like a good stout."

"Should go try my parents' pub," suggests Inri, the not-cruel. She used to be ruder externally than she was inside, but she morphed fairly quickly into sweet-all-around, which is becoming more reserved as she ages. Calmer, less frenetic and perky. The sound of a drawer opening, clattering shut again, and Inri produces a bristled hairbrush, offered silently with an extended hand. When she speaks again, it's still about work: "There's an impressive market for terrible wine, too. Now, that I don't understand."

"Thank you." Ashwin says gratefully and goes to work on it. The sounds of hard brushing punctuate his words while he keeps talking. "Where is that?" He asks, pondering if he's been there before. There was a time that he frequented just about every pub on Pern the more out of the way the better. He has grown up a large amount from those times but they wern't that far off either. "I get it." He ends up adding. "It's cheap. Not everyone can afford quality. Or at least they think they can't afford it. Some just don't care, they want their drunk as fast as they can get it."

As it turns out, Inri has more than one brush; once she's thrown what looks like an oversized cotton tunic on — it's meant to be a night shirt, but it certainly looks like a man's night shirt with sudden curves that stop abruptly just above mid-thigh, rather than one actually designed for a woman — she's brushing her own hair, as well. It's wavy; it snags, and doesn't so much smooth. "It's up in Breakwater. If you've not been before I'm always happy to bring you by sometime." She may have run away to become a dragonrider (which wasn't even what she was trying to do) but she still has close ties to that family of hers.

Ashwin still hasn't bothered to dress, but the blankets afford all of the modesty needed. He might be comfortable enough with his own skin but he does not have the same comfort under observation that she does. He is lucky in that he doesn't have wavy or snagging hair except where it's probably literally gotten tangled in something. "Sounds like what I'd be interested in. I don't drink any great quantity, I'm not interested at all in being /drunk/. But I'd love to take in the atmosphere and try a few things if you are mixing." He will not need nearly as much hair time and eventually, he will start hunting for clothes. "So, I suppose it's time for the big question. What do you want from me, and from Rinxyth?"

"Oh, is that the one?" Inri laughs, just because it seems like everyone has a different sense of what The Important Questions are. That's right around when the food she rang up for arrives, so when she's back to answer she is sitting down on the bed with a strawberry in her mouth, setting the platter down. She still scandalizes the drudges who come up to her ledge by taking these things herself. In just the thin shirt. In the cold. With no shoes. "Kouzevelth likes company. She also expects loyalty, which — I've heard he chases frequently, catches a lot of greens and goes after other golds … that's … that will have to not happen unless he wants to be exiled from his own eggs. If it means more to him to keep chasing, that's fine, we won't hold it against you. Just she won't be regarding him as a partner in egg-rearing, anymore." Inri isn't judging; she's aware that both are options, and she isn't making any demands. "I'm very self-sufficient; you're welcome to be as present-or-not as is comfortable for you. I stay out there once she clutches, generally." Once, she had an igloo in the galleries. Not anymore.

An Igloo in the galleries. Ashwin has heard something of that at some point. "It's the most important and the most pressing of them." The poor drudges. Scandalized indeed. Nobody has ever seen pokey things before. Or at least that isn't what they expect from a weyrwoman? Ashwin finds it amusing, judging by the smile that won't go away. "Rinxyth is… Rinxyth. He is as intelligent as any dragon out there except when he isn't. I can't imagine that he will go after another gold in the near future. There is a green at Ierne that he would probably chase because he just /does not think/ where she is concerned but that has come and gone." The grin fades, then returns. "There's only some truth to that. A little bit, but. In five or six turns he's caught the same green half a dozen times, Rhenesath, and now Kouzevelth. There may have been others but that is what comes to mind. He picks his favorites. I don't think that he is any different from any other brown. He's pretty much fascinated by eggs, though. He'll behave." It's not a promise. It can't be. Dragons are animals. Smart, talking ones but they are still creatures of instinct. It is an I don't think we'll have trouble and we'll try.

"And it's easy enough to stay away, from a green — it's easy enough to stay away from a gold, too, if you pointedly don't want to win," Inri speaks from experience, having at least one friend she scares away from her flights. "There are … people I don't let at my flights just because it would be a little too weird. They leave. A'ster, he's in your wing, for instance, his Akleteyth can't chase her. Not that I'm asking you to do that! Just saying, if you don't want his brain addled by a specific green, staying out of the way isn't totally impossible unless she's a totally unpredictable green. Which, then, that explains some of what makes her fun, doesn't it?" Inri evidently sympathizes with Rinxyth. "She, Kouzevelth, she's less protective of her eggs than the others, she wants the sire and the candidates to touch them. She likes it when they stay around the sands. I usually have my candidates bringing me things, stopping in for visits, the like."

"It's a little more complicated than that." Ashwin ventures, being careful not to put too much emotion in what he says. "Rinxyth has a thing for that particular green because I have a thing for that particular rider. It's complicated. There is a lot of love on both sides of our little coin and the watters are very, very muddy. We both have other people kind of muddy." It might be a staggering admission or it might be nothing at all. Par for the course. "I can do that." He says on another subject change. "Rhenesath's partner and I used to bring tea. I'd like to continue that, I dehydrate easily." Finally getting to nibble a strawberry he pinches it between his teeth and sets the green part away. "What's the issue with A'ster? I've been hearing a lot of he can't chase she lately." A double blink. Surprise. "The /sire/ is to touch them?"

"Ex-fiance's little brother. I don't want that weird in my sheets any more than I want my actual brother's brown to catch my dragon," Inri says with a grin and another strawberry to the mouth. Once she's done with that, though, "Oh, sure, if he's cautious. Once they're hard enough she isn't just keeping them under the sand all the time. She'll give him eggs to roll to specific spots, or ask him to do the digging just so … she wants to share them with everyone, just so long as it's safe. Thank you," the goldrider adds, "for trusting me with your confidences, I clearly won't spill them anywhere. And I do like tea."

"It's something that we're all working through." Ashwin says after several strawberries. He uses his shirt, retrieved from the floor to wipe his fingers on and stop any of the staining juice from reaching the bedsheets. /That/ would probably create a lot of rumors at the laundry late. "My life is a complicated mess of fuck up when it comes to relationships. I'm bad at them. Really bad at them. Loyalty? Everything to me. But I have this habit of falling in love with people that I shouldn't have. I suppose I kind of sort of have a weyrmate but she floats between me and another man. That would be the Weyrleader's sister to make my life even more complicated. Then there is this woman at Ierne. Her other knows she and I have feelings and is tolerant to it. My other knows about her. There are no secrets but it is complicated, confusing and tiring. They are wonderful people but I wish my heart found simpler solutions." He grins, waving a strawberry for emphasis. "And that's why you should be glad you aern't me." He nods in a belated, thinking way, remembering the cream. Strawberries need that. "He'll do that cheerfully. I wonder if The'ro is going to be upset about another clutch from him."

Inri is only listening, at first, listening and … looking a concerned-sad that is nothing if not sympathetic. Well. Empathetic. She really has no idea, to some extent; while she's certainly gone for people who were attached, she never did anything about it. And then for the longest time she was attached. And now she's adrift. "You're right, I probably … am glad I'm not you, in that sort of instance. Th'ero will just be glad it wasn't Kainaesyth, I think." So is Inri, not because Kainaesyth wasn't an amazing sire, but because that flight was ridiculous.

Ashwin holds the bowl of cream out for Inri, in case she forgot it. "Anyway. The time off on the sands might be a pleasant break though I imagine Kiena will be around. Can I send her to get food instead of the candidates?" A little and brief flash of something like amusement denotes an in joke there. One that she probably cannot be expected to know. "I'm not complaining either. Well, yes I am. To an impartial ear. But I would not trade my life even on the days that it annoys me." He says the dragon's name a few times. Carefully. Weighing it. "Why do I know that name? He's in my wing, but something makes it stand out."

"Oh." Inri laughs, dipping a berry in the cream, and it's noticeable quickly that her 'oh' has nothing to do with it, but, "Ha'ze was Weyrleader once for, like, an hour," shrug, eat. Apparently this is not something that's a big deal to Inri or anyone, and it's reasonable to be Weyrleader for only an hour? It may not have been exactly an hour … "Also sired a clutch with Kouzevelth and with Iaverulth. If Kiena wants to get us food, she's certainly welcome. Messy love …" she stops to think of a good shape, and being a bit of a mathematician, comes up with, "Lemniscates," what a weird shape choice, "and other shapes including hexagrams, triangles and so forth need to stay off my sands, but so long as everyone is calm we don't limit our visitors much."

There is so much that provokes blinking because it doesn't make any sense. Weyrleader for an hour? That is put away to ask about later. They will have to find things to talk about while they are on the sands and that sounds like a long story that will make a good one. "Messy love?" It is the bit about shapes that completely confuses him. He is a very good police rider but he does not have the formal education that a craft or a rank ought to have given him. He does not know what even one of those things means. Too proud to say it, she'll see the confusion. His eyes broadcast it, even if the rest of his face doesn't. The question is there but the sound isn't. What are these things and why shouldn't they be on her sands?

The story of Ha'ze's rise and fall from power is one that is worthy of his dragon's own tellings, really. Inri has never been trained in a craft either, but she has a considerable education in mathematics because she believed it was important for a weyrwoman to have. So she hired herself some tutors. "Oh — a lemniscate is like this," she makes an 'infinity' symbol in the air, then shrugs and, "It's things that are bigger than triangles. So, not a love triangle, exactly."

Ashwin touches his own forehead with his fingers — which leaves four bloody looking strawberry juicy prints behind that he does not see. "It's been a very long few days." Ashwin confesses, taking more strawberries and devouring them whole. "And I'm not awake enough yet that I thought you meant that literally. I was thinking, so we can't have the candidates stand in triangles or squares and what is a leminiscate? That doesn't make any sense." He grins, lips a little red from the juices too. "It makes a whole lot more sense when you put it that way." A little while goes by without any talking unless Inri fills it in. "We are both actually looking forward to this. It's just been a trying time, I am going to be a lot more cheery than I am. I love this place. Fort has been a home to me where everyone else wasn't. It makes me beyond satisfied to really contribute to it."

"It's good for that," Inri smiles fondly, reminiscently and alive at once, for her Weyr. "For being a home, a safe place. And as a Wingleader, you already are — but Rinxyth has two clutches, now. And anytime you need to just — decompress, my weyr's open. Since we're clearly not going to be romantically or sexually involved, you're welcome to use the couches or the spare bed," she has a child, yes, but her daughter is safe in the brat caves, not stuck with Inri's absent busy parenting, "Just to relax."

Ashwin is in the middle of eating a strawberry and something comes over his face. It begins at his eyebrows as they furrow and his eyes slip down to look at the bowl. He reaches with his non-sticky hand to touch Inri's forearm. "You… you mean that?" He asks with a voice laced with trepidation and sorrow. "I thought that, I thought…" He's good. He's /very/ good and it looks a moment as though he might cry and then it all dissapears to a sarcastic smirk. "I'm full of it. I'm going to take you up on that. As crazy as this sounds and as bad of a light at this puts me in platonic friends sounds amazing. I'd love someone in my circle to talk to that I haven't had sex with." Flights don't count. "I'm used to it by now, but." But. It changes things. "I appreciate the hospitality. How long is it until she usually clutches? They are all different. We should have tea once a week in the mean time. Stay in touch."

Two can play this game, and Inri is very guilty, of course. "Oh, darling, don't take it the wrong way," she coos. "Just … take it exactly the way you are, of course. I miss having a close — I don't know, I was one of a pack once. My clutchmates and I were all close, now I usually only see Abbey, and then the Stonehavens are dear to my heart, but." So many others that she loved, come and gone. And so many strangers she has made into minions, too; the entirety of the Gemstone still eats out of her palm, she may as well own it by now. "I keep my space open to people who have earned that access, and as far as Zel is concerned it's Rinxyth's ledge too until he chases someone else … Five weeks or so, I think, usually? On average."

Ashwin can't stop from grinning. He just can't. He tries to keep a straight face while she serves his ball back but nope, just isn't happening. "It sounds to me like expanding your social circle is in order." The strawberries by now are almost eaten through and since it's already soiled he hands over his shirt for Inri to wipe her hands on as well. He'll go back to his weyr shortly looking like a participant in a knife fight but it won't be the first time or the last time that happens. "Come to dinner with me and Kiena. My weyr? This day next week. I'm no mixologist but I can cook. If that goes well, I've been thinking of inviting some other friends for the next time. I'm not one of a pack but I /might/ be trying to build one. All exceptional people." The offer is not dwelled on, no matter what she comes out with. She's welcome if socializing is her thing! "Deal, then? And tea once a week until they are out? Then we'll end up getting to know each other a lot better."

It's a tasty knife fight. Er, tasty blood? There's strawberry on Inri's periwinkle cotton shirt too, so … that was just a few drips. Ashwin's shirt has been through a war, one that also includes Inri's fingerprints. "I'd be happy to; I can do drinks," she offers, smiling. Socializing is absolutely, completely one hundred per cent her thing. "Yes, over lunch? We have goldriders' tea in the mornings, and I have absolutely no issue with repetitive tea-drinking. There are so many varieties, after all." Math nerd, tea snob.

It has been through a /war/ and served with distinction. It won't be getting any medals though. Just a thorough washing. "Deal." Ashwin says and slips out of the bed. He turns around to collect his clothes and presents his back to her. They just met, so. Can't blame him too much for not having a developed comfort level. "Come for dinner with Kiena and I. We'll have clutch tea at noon. It will give me an excuse to finally finish furnishing my office." After awhile he is dressed, pulling his hair back and binding it. "Thanks." He says and reaches down, sticky shirt or not to try and hug her. "It'll be interesting times. Glad to have met you."

Hugs are good! Sticky, berry-covered hugs are better. Even though now Inri's hair is gross — at least she has that private bath? (It's the most important thing about her weyr, now. When Dtirae first gave it to her, it was that it had been Moreta's. Now it's the bath.) "That sounds wonderful," she agrees, post-hug. "Come by again anytime, just make sure I know about it — somehow. Our ledge is a constant garden party." It totally is, there are little string lights up on it.

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