Who Kaityn Leuka Nyalle
What Kaitlyn's attempt to get Leuka kicked from candidacy backfires!
When Winter evening
Where Weyrleader's Office @Fort Weyr

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.


Kaitlyn quirks her head for a moment, then simply bobs her braided head in agreement… awaiting Leuka's arrival.

Nyalle is also waiting for her assistant to bring Leuka to her office, moving back to her desk and sitting. She doesn't even attempt small talk while they wait.

Leuka is soon knocking on the door, knowing this can't be good since it's the first time he's been summoned at the Weyr during his posting.

Kaitlyn, in the meantime, moves to inspect some of the various hangings, her artist's eye enjoying them, while the rest of her settles into waiting mode. Not once does she pester the busy woman in the chair. With Leuka's arrival, her body pivots smoothly, grey eyes moving flatly to the candidate, then back to the Weyrwoman.

Nyalle gestures for Leuka to come in. "Candidate, please come in. Journeyman Kaitlyn has a complaint against you, and I want you here to respond. Please, both of you, take a seat." And she will sit down as well.

Kaitlyn bobs her head again to Nyalle, moves with liquid grace, taking a chair, her hands placed properly upon her lap. Waiting.

Leuka cuts his gaze to Kaitlyn, the woman given a flat look before his attention goes back to the Weyrwoman. He just nods and says "Alright." then takes the seat when she mentions it.

Nyalle looks between the two and then sighs. "Please? Someone tell me what's going on?" She sounds a little frustrated.

"My pardons, Weyrwoman. I thought you wished Leuka to speak first. A misunderstanding…" Kaitlyn murmurs levelly. "I shall begin, then. The candidate repeatedly spoke to me in very rude manner. I simply..blew it off at first, then I sought to quiet his outbursts in a less confrontational manner, since we were in the living cavern, and sitting amongst other candidates." Pause, nose-wrinkle. "Candidate Leuka persisted in his rudeness… became ever more actively rude."

Leuka lifts a brow to Kaitlyn as she somehow starts this meeting off with him supposedly doing something else wrong, in the time he's walked in the door. "Oh pardon me, I didn't mean to slow down your performance. Please continue." So that she doesn't lose her spot and have to start over in her mental script. "I'll explain myself after your speech."

Nyalle looks at Leuka, then back to Kaitlyn. She gestures with a hand. Go on.

Kaitlyn simply sighs at Leuka's behavior in front of his superior, lifts her eyes heavenward for a moment, then returns her gaze to Nyalle. "I believe the last thing he did before I left the cavern was to pretend that I wasn't speaking to him, to ignore my tacit warning utterly, then to mock me by imitating my words, manner.

Leuka is drumming his fingers on his knees, some odd pattern as he listens to Kaitlyn, considering it a moment before finally nodding to the Weyrwoman "Yea, that last part's true. I was having a discussion with Eiram about a theory about the eggs." He flicks couple of fingers to Kaitlyn "I had already heard part of that speech a few times already so didn't think I was missing much."

Nyalle furrows her brows. "What were you doing in the cavern, Kaitlyn? Private conversation? A performance?"

"I entered with my friend, a greenrider here. She needed to leave to tend her lifemate, so I looked about for some quick food. One of the other candidates was kind enough to supply me, and another invited me to sit with them…so I joined them." Pause. "I knew Leuka was there, but even our former unpleasant meeting was not reason enough to refuse a kind request." She's a Harper, after all.

Leuka sniffs irritably and looks between the two women. "She sat down and immediately told Eiram, who has been busting his butt in the kitchens all day and finally was allowed to come out and eat, to go get her some food." He cuts an annoyed look to the diva Harper. "She could have just as easily went around to the food tables herself before finding a seat."

Nyalle settles back in her seat and ahhs. "Journeyman," she begins, "I'm a big believer in tradition. However, there are things that need to change over time. One of those things is how we treat Candidates here at Fort. Candidates are not servants, to be ordered around at will. They have duties and they have chores, certainly, and while we do encourage them to be helpful they are not at anyone's beck and call other than the Weyrstaff. So, respectfully, they had every reason to deny your request and to treat you a little…" she glances at Leuka, "coolly. However," still looking at Leuka, "might I remind the Candidate that he is a representation of Fort Weyr, and I would hope it would be a positive ambassador."

Kaitlyn simply peers over at the interrupting candidate for a moment, then awaits Nyalle's words. After the Weyrwoman has spoken her piece, Kait chimes in smoothly, evenly, "I did *not* order Eiram to get me food. I simply asked the youth who had come out of the Kitchen - who I didn't understand was a candidate at that point - if he would be kind and get me some food. I thought he was a Kitchen worker, so the request didn't seem out of order." Breathe. "He was kind enough, happy enough to do so, though I certainly would've tended to my need on my own, if he said 'no.'" Beat. "I am not a cruel person, nor do I need or want people to wait on me hand and foot. I was brought up to be independent."

Leuka nods to Nyalle at her reprimand. "Reminder fully noted Weywoman." As Kaitlyn continues rambling on her true but not quite true version he rolls his eyes and has to speak up "Oh come on Kaitlyn. It's /you!/ we're talking about here. You stare in the mirror for hours practicing and posing. As you've complained to me before." He reminds the other Harper of their past interactions at the Hall and since he was posted. "You asking a male to do anything is not a /simple request/." He tries to be quiet a moment and let her finish but when she dares claim to be independent he leans forward suddenly, staring at her like she's insane. "Independent? Really. Throwing a tantrum in the practice room? Throwing a heavy mug at my head. Missing and hitting the wall behind me." He looks back to Nyalle "A wall which she damaged by the way." His attention goes back to his fellow Harper and he continues ticking off Kaitlyn's own offenses. "Spilling a full mug of klah all over the floor. An independent person would have cleaned up there own mess. But no, not Kaitlyn. She storms out in the midst of a full blown tantrum that would make any weyrbrat proud." He grumbles to a close "Leaving someone else to clean up after her as usual."

Nyalle tilts her head at Kaitlyn. "He wasn't wearing his knot?" Hmm. She might need a word with the Weyrlingmaster staff. As Leuka gets going the Weyrwoman lets him go for a few moments and then lifts her hand. "Enough. You two clearly have history together." She pauses, and then smiles a little. /Smiles/. And her eyes. Are they glinting? Amusement? Mischief? The expression is so foreign to Nyalle's face that it's difficult to tell just what it is. Maybe Kayeth is proddy. "Journeyman. Might I suggest you stay behind and, number one, learn more about how we do things in the weyr. Number 2, prove your independence, and number 3, keep an eye on Leuka and make sure he behaves." She reaches into her desk drawer and removes a white knot, tossing it across the desk so it lands in front of Kaitlyn. Mischief. It's definitely mischief. "But you can't throw mugs at people."

"Truthfully, he might've been, but I wasn't really looking at shoulders or knots at that time," the journeyman murmurs to Nyalle. Kaitlyn is like stone by the time Leuka's done ranting, the woman as still as death, her face an impassive mask. To the *Weyrwoman*, she notes flatly, "I do not bring my private life before you… but the candidate appears to have no such compunctions." Shrug. "His beef with me should have remained between us. My pardons for such trivial things being aired to you." Wait-whu? Okay, that mischief on the other woman's face, her request that Kaitlyn stay and observe, monitor is REALLY WEIRD. "Uh, Weyrwoman… I *do* have many Craft duties." Man, is she NOT kidding. She's booked solid for a month. And then that knot is tossed over at her…and the redhead's jaw drops a little. Blink. "I… what is *this*, ma'am?" Not the knot itself, but the offer… grey eyes staring into Nyalle's. For once, the Harper is floored, and at a loss for words. "I…understand it's a huge honor, but… I've not been Searched."

Leuka forces his jaws to close when Nyalle has had enough, he cuts his eyes to the annoying dancer before peering back to the Weyrwoman. He frowns at first, not quit sure where she's going with this idea of watching him, then blinks "No." He mutters out probably interrupting her as he stares in shock. "Nonono." Seems to be all he can say at the moment. He leans back heavily in the chair, hands scrubbing over his face and fingers raking back and forth through his hair.

Nyalle gestures between the two of them. "But you did bring your private life before me. A simple, mild disagreement in the living caverns really shouldn't have made it to my desk." Her finger taps the stack of hides she was working on. Important things. "You can, of course, refuse. But I think it would be good for you." She then smiles. "It's rare, to be sure, but Weyrwoman are allowed to offer knots, even though it's not…traditional." Nyalle, going against tradition? What is /wrong/ with her tonight? She looks at Leuka and grins, slow and wicked. "It would be good practice for you as well, Candidate. Practice with patience and grace. Knowing when to speak and when to stay silent."

Leuka lifts his hand to volunteer. "I'll play mute if she does."

Apparently both Kaitlyn and Leuka are in agreement for once, for the Journeyman is looking like how Leuka sounds: nononono! "Ma'am, I only brought this before you because the youth was blatantly disrespectful before many folk. Enough were there to overhear him, not only at our table." She holds to her smooth manner. "I don't understand why I'm being punished for doing the correct thing…" Candidacy is a punishment? Gah. "My Masters would have to okay this, you understand? And they're often… cranky to do anything but what they've already set in motion."

Leuka just gives a flourishing gesture as Kaitlyn starts in on her complaining and whining routine but he does interrupt what he's sure to be a hell of a show. "May I go ma'am. I still have some things to do before it gets too late."

Nyalle leans forward to take the knot back with a shrug. "It's your choice. I won't force you. Nor," she adds with a frown, "do I consider Candidacy a punishment. You just said it was an honor." She then gestures to Leuka. "Back to your duties, Candidate. Remember who you represent." And she eyes him. No more bad reports, k?

Leuka rises to his feet, eager to get away from both the women. He does give Nyalle a salute. Not exactly proper, but one of his more respectful ones for sure before he buggers out through the door and away.

"I will consider it, ma'am. It *is* an honor for any Pernese…" Kaitlyn recovers admirably, bobbing her head to the Weyrwoman. "I've simply been a dedicated Crafter for so long… As to not even take Search seriously. "I'll put it before my Masters tonight." Because *they* won't *ever* let her free for a month. They *never* do! Whew! Fool! The way the youth gets up and is just allowed to walk out after telling Nyalle that *he's* done makes Kaitlyn stare for a long moment, the flamehair not believing he got away with that. Finally, she too rises, takes that knot, pockets it. "You'll have my reply later tonight, Weyrwoman." Sigh. "Thank you for your attention." And, somehow, the very lucky ass of a candidate manages not to get booted. Just *how* Kait will never know.

Nyalle dismissed Leuka after he requested to leave. All is well. "Very well, Journeyman. I look forward to your reply." Then she bends her head and resumes her work. Important, important work.

"Good day to you, madame…" Kaitlyn murmurs to the now-working Nyalle, the redhead departing her office, and fuming like a barrel full of gasoline on her way out. The words that remain inside her head would make a sailor blush, and she heartily wishes many forms of horrible death upon the damned brat who got away with it. And, many hours later, when everyone is sleeping but the late night folk are on duty…a sour-faced Kait reappears above the Weyr on the back of a green dragon, to settled her belongings very quietly in a press at the foot of a cot in the candidate's barracks. Bastards of Masters!

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