Fort Weyr - Headwoman's Office

This area is plainly set up as an office space. A slightly used desk, with a slightly used chair pushed up to it, is in the left corner immediately as one enters, and a set of bookshelves lines the right corner. Against the west wall, offset away from the door, is a curtained doorway that leads to the Bedroom. The curtain, made of fabrics of pure browns and dark blacks is pulled shut, firmly discouraging snooping. A comfortable couch and some chairs, along with a low table, are set up in the back left corner, though some more uncomfortable chairs are placed right on either sides of the door for when the Headwoman has to mete out punishment.

Next to the desk is a low cupboard, only coming up to about waist-high off the floor, and made of a dark, fine hardwood. On the top of the cupboard is an area made for holding glasses until one wants a drink of something. On the walls are various tapestries and even a painting - of the gentle, rolling seascape. The tapestries depicted have the common theme of Fort Weyr - a giant tapestry of Fort's crest is the most prominent, situated on the wall across from the door to the Hallway. Other tapestries depict everything from a formation of dragons fighting Thread over Fort Weyr, to gentler tasks, though most have dragons or firelizards woven into the design somewhere. Most decorations are done in either a deep, rich brown or a stark, unending void of black, with a spattering of royal blues thrown into the mix. This seems to be a room you can make yourself at home in.

The desk is hardly cluttered - it is clean and neat. There are, however, a few official looking notices piled neatly in one corner, and a stack of fresh hides and writing utensils in the other corner.

Backdated to be after this scene: The Harsh Truth

The blizzard that had settled in during the afternoon raged on well into the night, though had died off by the early morning hours. By then, the Weyr had been buried under fresh snow and the air carries a crisp cold with it. Dawn has just past and the sun's weak light has barely begun to chase most of the shadows from the bowls and most of the weyrfolk begin to stir for the day's work, riders and candidates included. But a summons comes from on high to one candidate by firelizard. The note is simple, stating only a place and not to tarry too long, written in cramped but legible writing, signed by none other then Th'ero himself. And while the message is being delivered, the Weyrleader has already taken a seat behind a desk that is not his own. With the Headwoman delayed in returning from Fort Hold, he's acquired the office for this morning's brief meeting, despite the lingering memories of the argument held here the night before. So it's to these thoughts he's left to brood with while he waits.

And such summons are met with a groan, but she is properly on time. There's a soft knock at the doorway before she is entering and closing the door firmly behind her, the hunter-candidate offering the Weyrleader a grin and a salute before striding over towards the desk without a moment's hesitation. A seat is taken and Deitra rubs her hands upon her pant legs. "You wanted ta see me?" Titles are dropped, though there's a quick look around her in search of a certain bluerider who might come out hissing at her to be proper.

It would be safe to say that no bluerider is lurking in the shadows to remind Deitra of her proper manners and Th'ero doesn't seem to mind the former hunter's lack of them. His mind is focused on more pressing matters then missing titles or less then formal greetings. At least the candidate takes a seat! A few seconds of silence stretch out as the Weyrleader rouses himself from his thoughts, brown eyes settling on Deitra in a long, searching sort of look. "Yes, I did." Th'ero finally speaks, mustering a vague smile while still leaning back in his chair, both arms draped over the armrests though one hand has begun to idly tap a finger against the end of one. "Sorry to make it so early, but I wanted this done before you got to your chores." And he, of course, to his duties and the Weyrleader pauses again, brows knitting together as he glances away, distracted. When he does focus back on Deitra, his expression is serious and though his tone is gentle, it hints that he means business. "The Trader meeting last afternoon … how much did you overhear?" he asks, "And how much did you understand?"

The silence from the Weyrleader results in more silence from the candidate, grey eyes scanning the office thoughtfully, her head tilting just so in consideration. Speaking draws her attention to him and her hands fold neatly upon her lap, brows lifting as if attempting to prompt more from the man. "Nah. Ain't an issue. Makes sense ta want ta see me so soon, bein' that I didn't hear anythin' from you at night." She leaves it at that, simply giving the man a pleasant little smile even as his brows are knitting together. "Heard everythin' I was present for. Ain't like 'm just goin' ta drown that out." With that, she leans back into her seat with her arms crossing over her chest. "They ain't supposed ta be Searched, got that from Kimmila's face. They bought it. What'd they get that's so damned important?" Her chin lifts slightly, "they didn't say a thing 'bout what they found. Sounded suspicious 'bout how they found it, story didn't sound right. How'd you know that yer not getting' scammed? What's ta say after the Impress, if they do, that they ain't goin' ta take off and make their dragons live off the road?"

Nothing was said last night because Th'ero was busy having a less then polite argument with a certain bluerider and then wandering off to drown his thoughts and mistakes in wine. If the Weyrleader is hung over or feeling any ill effects, he's managing to hide it well. At most, he may seem just a little tired or worn on casual glance. The pleasant smile from Deitra earns a slightly suspicious look, though it lingers only for a second before his expression falls neutral. Th'ero lets her speak uninterrupted, only raising a hand up to indicate that he wishes the candidate to be silent for a moment as he explains himself. Her words have only brought a worried frown to the Weyrleader's features, as his suspicions are confirmed, so as he speaks, his gaze locks with Deitra's and doesn't stray. "Varmiroth wasn't meant to Search them, he's not of Fort." Th'ero begins, mouth drawing into a thin line as he treads carefully with his words. "Velokraeth /did/ Search them, but the results were… mixed." He says in a low voice. "And I can't tell you what it is." Because he doesn't know, but Th'ero leaves it unsaid. "But we don't know if it's a scam or not. It's a risk with a heavy price. We also can't know if they will or will not Impress." He admits with a faint grimace, though he gives Deitra a puzzled look at her last comment. "I'm sure you know of independent riders?" he asks her, before giving a dismissive flick of his hand and turning back to the main topic. With a heavy sigh, Th'ero leans forwards in the chair, elbows coming to rest on the desk in front of him and his hands weave themselves together as he fixes Deitra with a look that speaks of all seriousness and perhaps a hint of warning. "I figured you'd be sharp enough to catch on. Which is why I have to tell you to keep quiet. And I mean it, Deitra. Word is going to spread regardless, but better it be amongst the Traders and not traceable to a Fortian Candidate. Do you understand why?"

The suspicious look only earns a little bit of a wider smile before the woman shrugs, giving no indication of where her thoughts lay in the fact that the man did not summon her for this talk. Though it is certainly faded away by the time she starts talking, falling into complete silence as his hand lifts to silence her. No comments are made, instead, grey eyes remain focused upon the brown ones of the Weyrleader. A slight nod as he begins, but there is a frown as Velokraeth did Search the pair. "Only one of 'em was supposed ta be Search?" Deitra blurts out the question, even if he said he couldn't answer. A sigh is heaved, lips pressing together and the young woman clearly doesn't look pleased. "Mhm. But, ain't ever seen the point of 'em bein' independent. Best place for a dragon is a Weyr." Among other dragons. Arms tighten across her chest tighter, tucking in and her back slouching as she scoots lower into her seat. "Ain't goin' ta say a word. Promise." As for why, grey eyes roll upwards in thoughts. "Would make Fort look bad, for one. And, they know my face 'cause I was there."

Th'ero gives Deitra a level look when she blurts out her question, mouth drawn into a thin line and it's clear she'll receive no answer on that part. The Weyrleader probably feels that she already knows too much and has seen too much for comfort. Carefully does he observe her reaction though, listening in silence once more as she speaks and then it's Th'ero's turn to sigh again. "If they Impress is beyond the point at this time." He points out with another dismissive gesture. "And I'm going to hold you to that promise. If it starts to reach the Candidates, I want you to play along that you know /nothing/." Th'ero stresses, no hint of amusement or lightheartedness. The Weyrleader means it and he's expecting Deitra to take it just as seriously to heart. When she mentions her reasons why though, he can't help but smirk as he settles back into his seat, arms folding comfortably across his lap. "Exactly. So you'll have to play /nice/ too." Play nice? It's a hint (or a trap) and Th'ero waits patiently to see Deitra's reaction to it.

The lack of an answer earns Th'ero a very careful look, but, she knows when to keep her mouth shut when there's no food to shove in it to prevent talking. Lips are pressed together still, then her bottom lip is drawn into her mouth, chewed on idly as a replacement of food. "Ain't able ta tell and all that." There's a nod to him holding her to the promise, "ain't the type ta break my promises unless I got reason ta break it. Ain't like this isn't important." In other words, she won't break the promises at all. Her head tilts at the smirk, then brows lift and Deitra is slowly returning the smile. "Sure. I intend ta play /very/ nice."

"It is very important." Comes a gentle reminder from Th'ero, though he seems convinced that Deitra not only understands, but that the candidate can be trusted - for now. But then she goes and springs the trap and the Weyrleader smiles a little knowing smile. "I'm sure you do." He says slowly, casting her another curious and searching look. "Just be sure that you do nothing that will bring too much attention or cause too much disruption." Another game is a foot it seems, with hidden messages galore but Th'ero doesn't elaborate any further, leaving it for Deitra to sort out. In the end, whatever the result, it will no doubt end up with him or another rider of rank speaking with her. For now though, the meeting seems to be at an end as he slowly rises to his feet, gesturing for her to do the same. "That's all I wanted to speak to you about. We're done and you're free to go to your duties." Th'ero is all formalities it seems, though it doesn't seem to sit well with him. Or perhaps it's last night's binge on wine that's catching up to him? A smile, though faint, is given to Deitra and then a brisk nod.

Deitra nods once for the importance of it all, giving another smile in response to his. "'course not. Nothin' ta bring attention. Can't show much favor ta some and not the others." A wide grin and slowly she begins to push out of her seat at the gesture from the Weyrleader. "Yes, sir." Formalities return as his do, inclining her head slightly. "Thank you for the talk, sir. The healers got somethin' for yer hangover if yer wantin' ta ask. Doesn't taste good, but it works." With the hint and warning both given the young woman chuckles to herself and quickly flees the office, the door closed very gently behind her.

As Deitra offers her advice on hang over cures, it throws Th'ero so off guard that the candidate manages to flee to safety before the Weyrleader can stop her and pepper her with more questions. Namely if it's so clearly obvious! Alas, she slips his grasp and he's left only to mull over it thoughtfully for half a second before sighing wearily. "Shard it all." Th'ero curses before taking his own leave of the office, quietly shutting the door behind him and striding down the hallway. But it's not by the spiral stairs that he descends, instead turning to head out towards another path that more or less links him back to his ground weyr. With the meeting done, he'll be taking his breakfast in the /quiet/ of his own accommodations, until duty requires he make a public appearance.

'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.