Simmer [Karredy]

[Zen]

A'zael

It had been nearly an entire sevenday since the last Threadfall, and Karredy's ridiculous stunt. Talera had returned from Igen with good news, his own endeavor at Benden had been likewise successful, and with that out of the way.... A'zael sighed, shuffling things around on his desk for the umpteenth time. There was no avoiding the inevitable conversation any longer. It was good he had waited anyway. Thinking about it, about Karredy at all, no longer caused a volatile flare of fury in him. Frustration, yes, but that was far more manageable. Hopefully that meant he could stay calm when confronting her. He had no desire to get into a shouting match.

He considered briefly whether he should go to her or call her to his weyr instead. From all B'rax had taught him, he knew there was some sort of subtle meaning to both courses of action, but for the life of him he had no idea what that might be. Would it be too much courtesy to go to her, considering just what they would be discussing? Would it feel like cornering her, because honestly what was she going to do, flee her own weyr? He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance at how stupidly complicated everything seemed to be for him ever since he became Weyrleader.

Shells to it. He strode out of his office and out of his weyr, down the hall to the Weyrwoman's door, and stopped short of knocking. Should he have had Fath send word ahead of him? Shells to that too. He knocked, and he waited. He didn't feel the need to announce himself. Zalmaranth would surely tell her just who waited outside her door. After all, Fath did so for him all the time.

@kiba

[Deleted]

At the moment she was re-copying a basket of the Weyr's records; paper didn't last more than a few months in the moist heat, despite efforts to store them properly.

A'zael is here, Zalmaranth told her as someone knocked on their door. The queen's tail twitched, not unlike a feline. I bet he's going to scold you like Talera did.

Well, he has a good reason to. Karredy sighed.

"Hello, A'zael." That was polite, but Karredy was usually polite nowadays; mostly because her other emotions were rarely strong enough to show. But at least she wasn't cringing like she had with Talera--when the realization that she'd messed up was still fresh and stinging. "Just wait a few moments, I'll move the baskets out of the way."

She blew a few curls out of her face. She'd need to ask Gisellaine how she managed her curls, because after spending her weaving apprenticeship in the similar climate of Southern Boll, Karredy had no idea why her hair had slowly turned curly here as opposed to there.

Wait, Zalmaranth said, but with the distraction of A'zael (and, well, her current life), Karredy only waved at the gold.

Zal, don't argue with him. All right? Now to get him a chair...

Maybe it was because she hadn't been a dragonrider then? Weavers often made it their literal job to be fashionable, after all. But now except for special occasions, all she had time to do with her hair was braid it--and sometimes tuck it down the back of her tunic, just to be safe. And spending most of the Turn shuttled between her Weyr and the infirmary after her almost-death certainly muddled things up.

(Why was everything always coming back to that?)

Wait, Zalmaranth said again, but again unnoticed.

Lately Karredy had trouble recognizing herself in the mirror, or the reflections off of the bath-water: No more baby-fat, little to no smiling except as The Weyrwoman of Mavros, and curls instead of the sleeker style she used to have.

She reached for the hair-tie on her wrist--

WAIT. A rumble from Zalmaranth this time, though an amused one, and it startled Karredy out of her thoughts.

She finally caught (or remembered) that her hands were covered in half-dried ink, and now there were splotches on the door. And the record baskets. And her and A'zael's chairs.

"...Oh." She got a washcloth and wiped her hands off, but what was she going to do about the rest? Tell A'zael to wait while she cleaned? "Well, sit down, if you like."

[Zen]

A'zael

Following her inside after she greeted him, A'zael pushed the door closed behind him as she asked him to wait a moment so she might get the clutter of her current work out of the way, “It's fine. I'll stand.” Restless, that's what he felt, mostly. He didn't think he'd be able to sit still for this conversation.

A number of initial things to say ran through his mind in quick succession, all dismissed equally as fast. She'd clearly been in the middle of something and the thought to apologize for interrupting occurred, an assurance to make this conversation as quick as possible so she could get back to her work. Instead he got right to the heart of the matter. Best to rip off the bandage quickly.

“I imagine you can guess why I'm here. We need to talk about your... actions during Threadfall,” and that was putting it as nicely as possible. He paused, considering just where to start and trying very hard not to just start berating her for the stupidity of said actions. “What. Happened.” He spoke with a very deliberate calm he did not feel. He had heard the summary of what she'd told Talera, of course, but he wanted to hear the story from her.

He couldn't help but think back on the similar incident with Rau's act of stupidity during Fall and how very poorly he had handled it. It was part of the reason he'd taken the time to calm down about it first this time. Granted, those had been far more stressful times for him as well, new as he'd been to Weyrleadership, with Karredy on her deathbed, the entire Weyr just waiting for her to take her last breath, leave them without a Weyrwoman, with only him, the most inexperienced bronzerider at Mavros, left in charge. He'd had the Council then, but everything had just been too much for him.

Things were better now. He knew better what he was doing. Karredy wasn't dying. They had more dragons, more golds, though that was a different problem. But they were taking steps to solve that, too. Benden and Igen were open to them, they had more options for candidates, and hopefully they just might get through the twins' clutches without another mass Betweening, or an even worse one.

Shifting, finding it just as hard to stand still as sit, he crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to let Karredy get through her explanation without interruption.

@kiba

[Deleted]

Zen

"I guessed you'd be talking to me about this, too." She fiddled with the washcloth, uncertain about whether to put it down--hardly what a Weyrwoman would do in the ballads. Harpers would never say a Weyrwoman fidgeted or mucked up explaining something, and at least half of the Weyrwomen in the ballads were the beautiful daughters of Lord Holders, too.

"C'mor was having trouble with... well, Thread," she sighed. "He was chasing down some clumps of Thread, but there was more heading for him. He didn't see it. And I couldn't see if anyone was coming to help him out, so... I went."

Of course she wouldn't have been able to see if someone was coming to help C'mor, she realized bitterly. He'd already been at the limits of her vision--with the ingrained habit of "watch for silvery things in the air," her main thoughts had been THREAD IS FALLING BY C'MOR, GO HELP HIM WITH THREADDDDDDD--and Zalmaranth wouldn’t have bothered checking for anyone, either.

"We were only planning to help him out with the stray Thread and then go back to the queen's wing, but when we got out of between, he was... burning. Zardilath said the wind blew everything back at them."

Oh yes, she'd forgotten protocol, too. "First I should have told someone that I was going to help C'mor with the stray Thread--like you, or another fighting rider," she said bitterly, brown eyes darkening further with tears. Please don't cry in front of A'zael, she thought. "After we got out of between, I really should have told someone C'mor and Zardilath were on fire. But... but I've barely done anything, and I--wait. I didn't help C'mor because I wanted attention!" She cut herself off as soon as she realized what the rest of her sentence might sound like. "I didn't want attention, or for people to write ballads about me, or anything like that. I just--I couldn't leave him there. And I haven't done anything. For months," she repeated hopelessly, though if A’zael understood what it meant, she really hoped he could tell her.

Please don't cry in front of A'zael-- 

"I mean, I've been doing my job, but so have the other goldriders, and they've been doing it for most of last Turn, so I just wanted to... to do something. Just--something besides my job and not being dead. I could have sewn a dress or visited my parents or asked you about Mollin and your baby--I don't even know if it's a boy or girl, all I know is that you two have one--but I don't know anyone that well anymore, so the thing I did ended up being Threadfall and now we're HERE and... oh Faranth, this doesn't make sense."

And there went her attempt to not cry in front of A'zael, she noted as heat started tracking down her face.

"Well..." She wiped her eyes with a sleeve. "At least I answered your question first. I was going stir-crazy or something after most of the Turn being not-dead, and C'mor was on fire, and I panicked. That’s what happened in Threadfall," she finished helplessly. "A'zael."

[Zen]

A'zael

Comments leapt to his lips several times throughout her story, and each time he bit them back, let her speak. She was all over the place. The word erratic came to mind. And then she started crying. Shells.

He rubbed his hand over his face, letting quiet draw out between them as he considered her mess of an explanation, and all the comments he had not made. Part of him wanted to comfort and part of him wanted to flee, because crying women always made him so sharding uncomfortable. Neither of those were acceptable courses of action right now. He couldn't just back down from the confrontation because she was crying, give in to those first panicked instincts that wanted to reassure and tell her it was okay, because no it wasn't.

Finally he forced himself to look at her again, “Do you realize just how insulting it is that you could not trust my Wing, could not trust me, to take care of our own wingrider? Instead of trusting me to lead my own Wing, trusting my riders to watch their wingmate's back, you abandoned your own Wing, entered our formation without warning, without cover, endangered yourself, your dragon, my entire Wing, all because of your own feelings of inadequacy? Is that what you're telling me?”

The question was a rhetorical one and he shook his head in disbelief. Talera was right. “You're unstable and you're unfit for Fall,” he told her bluntly, “My brother was scored in his mad dash to cover your unexpected appearance. You're lucky the results weren't worse. We're all lucky the results weren't worse!” He paused as the volume of his voice began to rise, taking a deep breath, “I know things have been hard for you, that your recovery has been long. I can certainly understand being frustrated, but until you have a better handle on these... feelings, I won't have you endangering my Wing, my Weyr, during Fall. Clearly you're not yet ready to be fighting again.”

He studied her for a moment, still fighting the urge to comfort. Why did she seem so much younger than he was? Talera's words hit him again. She shouldn't be leading fighting dragons, not until she's matured more. This was exactly what the older goldrider had meant. “I'm giving Talera leadership of the Queen's Wing until further notice,” he told her, resolved, “You can help organize the weyrlings for firestone refueling and assist the dragonhealers. Ground duties, until you can exhibit more control over yourself and I can trust you in the air.”

@kiba

[Deleted]

Zen

"Grounding from combat until further notice," she acknowledged, and rubbed at her eyes again. She wasn't crying as hard as she thought she would, but A'zael was still notably uncomfortable. "That's logical."

He hates when women cry, she remembered. At least she still knew that. Although he'd gotten something wrong--he seemed to think she felt inadequate. Not that she didn’t, but it wasn't quite the whole picture.

"I don't feel inadequate, though," she said. "And I don’t NOT trust you. Of course I want to do better than I'm doing right now, but I don’t feel inadequate as a… a state of mind. That would mean I have something to feel, and I don’t. Not for long, at least. Even now, being upset--we sorted it out, so pretty soon I'll be--" Fine? Better? No, those words meant good, and she didn’t feel there was enough left in her to feel good. "I'll be settled, I suppose. In the morning. Or once I get back to the records. And I didn’t help C’mor because I wanted to feel something, I’m not that stupid. It’s been a while and I already know it doesn’t matter what I do, because... because I can’t."

I need to explain it better, Karredy thought yet again. But explain what? The occasional spikes of emotion, like islands above the stretches of dread that had been following her since Zalmaranth’s first flight--or worse, the nothingness like between? How on earth did you tell someone you were bothered because you didn’t feel anything?

"I shouldn’t tell you about this." She sighed. "You have enough people to worry about. Anyway, I have my punishment. Is there anything else?"

Already her emotions were tapering off, as she’d told him they would--but the stillness as she settled in her chair was less “calm” and more “empty” or “drained.”

[Zen]

A'zael

Her words continued to sound nonsensical and A'zael was honestly growing rather concerned about her current state of mind the more she went on, and even more confident in the decision to keep her out of the air come Fall. But there was something terribly unsettling in the way all her previous emotion just seemed to... drain away all of a sudden. Not for the first time, he realized how little he actually knew her. She hadn't always been like this, had she? Was this the result of her sickness, her near death? Surely being buried alive had to have been a traumatic experience, but it had been two turns ago.... He supposed if he'd been buried alive he might not quite be in his right mind even two turns later either.

He sighed and took the seat she had previously offered him, leaning toward her slightly. Hadn't he been thinking recently that more communication between them couldn't hurt? And seeing her like this.... In a way it made him think back to his first few months as Weyrleader, all the stress and the responsibility he hadn't been ready for making him more miserable than he'd ever been in his life. It wasn't the same, maybe, he wasn't really sure, but he did know that it helped him to have someone to talk to, and the Weyrwoman's mental health could affect the entire Weyr, just as his own had the potential to do.

“Karredy. Just as you are Weyrwoman of Mavros, I am Weyrleader. We... we are meant to be a team,” he told her, calm, at last, “I'm trying to be a better Weyrleader than I've been. That means communicating better with you, and helping each other, so we can both do better for the Weyr. I don't know what's going on with you, I certainly can't say I understand it, but I am here for you, if you want me to be. You don't have to - I certainly haven't done much in the way of extending any sort of friendship toward you, and that's my fault - but I don't know how to help you if you don't talk to me.” He paused to let her consider that for a moment, and then he left the decision up to her, "Now I can leave, if you'd prefer. Or I can stay, and I can at least listen, if I can't do anything else for you."

@kiba

[Deleted]

Zen

He wanted to talk? That was unexpected.

She'd been trying to find someone to talk to, but the first issue was when. She had her hands full keeping records and stocks in order, to say nothing of the politics she hadn't been doing and the assistance from the other goldriders and the headwoman; the healers had a whole Weyrhold to look after; her parents had duties as beastcrafters. Even Gisellaine, timid and unsocial but reliable--she was a fighting rider and a Searchrider, and after three lost hatchlings in Aerroth's latest clutch, the Weyrhold's Searchriders were frantic to avoid a repeat, blinking off between for increasingly distant holds.

And the second issue was what to say.

"I don't even know if there's anything to TELL you, A'zael." Karredy fiddled with a page of records. "If I felt bad, of course I'd have told someone. But here, I just feel nothing. Happy, sad, stressed--it's all gone, and if it comes back, it doesn't stay. Like my feelings are stuck between. How do I tell people something's wrong because I don't feel anything? At best they might say there's no problem, and at worst they'll think I'm mad from... from being dug back up, or being sick for so long. Or both."

There was the last reason. It had been tiring enough with the physical issues of almost-dying--she’d prefer not to feed rumors that Mavros’ Weyrwoman was mad on top of frail.

"That's all I really know right now," she said. "You don't have to keep it secret if you think anyone else knows how to deal with this; shards, if someone does, send them to my weyr." She skimmed a page of records--not really reading, just trying to keep her hands busy. "And since I'm out of combat, I can travel to the other Weyrs if needed. Even if I can't do important meetings, I can at least make trips so the other Weyrs stop wondering why I'm not visiting. Gathers, Hatchings, supplies--" Oh Faranth, the pirates, she remembered with a wince. "Well, maybe not supplies."