Tarrant ambles in from the center bowl.
Sisala ambles in from the center bowl.
Tarrant enters the Infirmiry silently, looking for all as though he's stalking something. "Ilesyn?" he calls out.
Ilesyn's settled at her desk, fluffing about with a pile of hides, stiffling a yawn. She glances up, Tarrant's calling of her name drawing her attention. "Tarrant. I'm over here."
Sisala finds her way into the infirmary, her attention focused on the hunter she's following. Her expression is darkly drawn. She says formally, "Hunter. A word, if you wouldn't mind?" She closes after him, hurrying.
Tarrant moves forward. "I want to talk to you about a few things, if you have the time." A whirl, and he's staring at Sisala. "After i'm done speaking to Ilesyn. I'm in no mood to speak to you right now, if you don't mind." He turns back to Ilesyn, walking to her, and sitting down in a chair across from her. The hunter looks quite - unhappy.
Ilesyn's gaze is lifted from Tarrant to Sisala, her eyes narrowing as they shift back and forth between the two. "I think," she says, after a pause, "That you're going to have to tell me what's going on here, because I'm certainly confused."
Sisala says firmly, "Perhaps you'd be more in the mood to speak with me if you hadn't insulted my weyrsecond in the middle of the cavern?" She gives Ilesyn an apologetic look, "And this really isn't something the healer needs to be drawn into."
Tarrant turns slowly to the greenrider, very stiff and very formal. "If you would please leave me to decide what's in my best interests at this time, you will undoubtedly receive my attention to the fullest afterward. My life is my own."
"I'm a Mindhealer," Ilesyn points out, rationally. "Working out problems is what I do." Her hands are folded into her lap, head shaking. "If Tarrant wants to bring this matter to me, he's more than welcome to - I always have a spare ear for such things. Now, do you want to aid me in figuring out what is going on, or inhibit the process, or just leave now?"
Formality. Sisala quirks a brow at the hunter. "Very pretty manners. However, I'm just a greenrider. I suspect that our weyr leadership deserves at least as much respect as you'll give me." She glances towards Ilesyn, and says politely, "I don't know that mindhealing is needed."
Tarrant only glares coldly at the rider, not believing the woman's crassness.
Ilesyn, with an almost beaming smile, notes, "Mindhealing is always needed. I'm trained to get to the bottom of a problem, and that is exactly what you two seem to need, right here. I take it that Tarrant here," she turns her head so that she faces the Hunter, "was not properly respectful to-- the Weyrsecond, was it?"
Sisala says very politely, "I believe the phrase was 'pull the wherry out of your arse'." She quirks a brow at Tarrant. "Or did I get that wrong? I did just want to remind you of weyr protocol... I wasn't intending on getting a healer involved."
"That was only one of many things spoken by many people, yes," Tarrant speaks softly. "Why are you so adamant about me not talking to Ilesyn, Sisala?"
"I think I missed something interesting," marvels Ilesyn, always a fan of a good show. "Mindhealer, please. I assure you that my body-healing counterparts resent the fact that I am grouped as one of them."
Sisala turns towards Tarrant, looking at him. "Actually, hunter," Her words are very precise, very formal, and ever-so-polite. "I have no objection to you speaking to Ilesyn personally, a healer, a mindhealer, or anyone else. However, I thought perhaps you would like to know what the protocol for addressing one of the leaders of the weyr are, before you get yourself in trouble. If you'd rather wait for the weyrleader to address it with you instead... that is most assuredly your perogative."
Tarrant simply stares at Sisala. As if he didn't already know both the Weyrsecond and the greenrider were going to take this to the Weyrleader. "I'll be willing to listen to the /reasonable/ facts of such after i've spoken to Ilesyn. Tonight, even." His tones is quite reasonable, almost affable, now. Odd.
Ilesyn stays silent, throughout Sisala's words, her eyebrows lifting in silent - but ultimately professional - interest. She turns her head, as Tarrant responds to the greenrider, still listening. "If Tarrant wishes to speak to me, Greenrider," she notes at last, inclining her head forward, "Let him do so, so as to let him compose himself, and work through that which he will say, when brought to task for his actions, whatever they have been."
Sisala nods, "Certainly, Mindhealer." She nods to Ilesyn very politely. "If he's currently under your treatment, I would never wish to interfere." She turns towards Tarrant, and says quietly, "In my experience, however, insulting a leader of the weyr, running out, and hiding makes it that much the worse when you finally deal with it. You won't have to answer to me. In fact, should you prefer, you don't have to speak to me. Believe it or not... I was trying to help you."
"If you mean to try and provoke me with your words, you will not," Tarrant murmurs to Sisala, a bit of chill back in his tone. "I am not hiding. Simply seeking to understand. And I /do/ wish to speak to you tonight, before I see J'van. /If/ you can be civil, Sisala. I would... appreciate a bit of help. But not a figurative punch in my face. Are you up to this after i'm done here?"
"Thank you," says Ilesyn, inclining her head in response to Sisala. "It's much appreciated, both for my sake, and the sake of my patient." Patient? Things move quickly. She goes quiet again, listening to Tarrant, face expressionless.
Sisala pauses, "Honestly, Tarrant, that depends on how much time you spend with Ilesyn. I have night sweeps tonight, and I can't stay all night." She looks at Tarrant quietly. She ignores his implications about her civility and her manners.
Tarrant nods back at Sisala. "I'll do what I can, as will you. I shall speak to you later, if you're still available." And then he turns back to Ilesyn.
Ilesyn crosses her hands upon the desk in front of her, straightening her posture professionally. "I'm sure we shan't take too long, Sisala, although one never does know." Her attention is focused upon Tarrant.
Sisala nods to that, "I'll be in the living cavern, then, until its time for my sweeps." She nods to the duo with a very polite smile.
With that, Sisala slips out of the infirmary.
Sisala walks off northwestwards to the center bowl.
Tarrant sighs heavily, and looks at the Mindhealer. "I'll take my advice straight, please, Ilesyn. No need to bandy about with me."
"I never would," responds Ilesyn without so much as a moment of pause. "But first, you'll have to tell me what happened, because I'm still confused."
Tarrant grins mirthlessly. "Me and a few others were simply having a good - if interesting conversation in the caverns. I was... laughing, and so was K'dir. S'vilen," and the name sounds incredibly flat coming off of his tongue, " walked in and immediately disapproved of these shennanegins. I quite affably told him he might wan't to loosen up a bit. That ;aughing was /good/..."
"And that's all you said?" counters Ilesyn, following up the explanation with another question. "You just told him to lighten up a bit? That's all?"
Tarrant raises his eyebrow. "Of course not. I was simply pausing to see if you wished to educate me." The man continues. "I forgot how testy S'vilen is about people using his nickname. I replied to Sisala about something... Ah... I said to her: 'I think Siv is able to protect himself, Sisala.' She was being incredibly defensive of him."
Ilesyn leans forward, posture deflating now, so that she stretches out lithely, her head shaking slowly. "Your second mistake," she agrees, in a quiet voice. "I take it that he didn't like that, and nor, I imagine, did Sisala. She is certainly one that could learn to be less protective of her brother," she adds.
Tarrant nods. "No one is asking me, but i'll agree with that assessment - and volunteer that they /both/ should be talking to you about their problems." A snort from the hunter. "Anyway, he was all around irritated at we people acting so ridiculously." Another, arrogant snort. "As if /he/ has the right to dictate how people should have fun. Anyroad, the Weyrsecond decided to immediately take offense at my improper use of his nickname, and said something to the effect of 'not remembering ever inviting me to call him that - or even being asked about being called by his name - and that he could let /that/ pass. Obviously he could /not/," Tarrant injects harshly.
Ilesyn raises one hand. "Calm," she interjects. "Be rational, please. Take a deep breath, and then release it." She waits, and then, tossing her bushy, chestnut mop away from her face, considers. "From your description, I would agree that it seems... excessive, of him, to get so upset. If I were you, I would be very careful, from now on, to call him by title only." She allows something of a smile to cross her lips - "And then what happened?"
K'dir ambles in from the dark inner cavern.
K'dir comes in, hair wet, but smelling clean and fresh.
Tarrant does the logical thing and takes that big breath, his hands loosening from their unconscious balled-up fists. "Weyrsecond he shall be forever more. Osasune was looking at K'dir - who was still laughing on the floor. Kav looked up at the Weyrsecond, and gave this crazy salute. And then I went off." His voice has almost a dreamy quality as he remembers those seconds vividly. "I stood up and said to him, 'You are much too conscious of your veneer, S'vilen. I've tried my best to be deferential to your moods and your ways of thinking, however hidebound they may be. I think you'd do well to get that wherry out of your arse.' And then I walked out before I said anymore."
Ilesyn is sitting at her desk, leaning forward as she listens, and offers comments, to Tarrant. Her eyes flick upwards; she's got good hearing, evidently, noting K'dir's entrance with a short, sharp nod, even as she comments in response to Tarrant, "You lost it, in other words. I'm afraid to say, no matter what I think on the subject, riders - especially S'vilen - rule this weyr. That's why it /is/ a weyr. You'll have to apologise, although I think J'van is reasonable enough to understand, if you're careful."
K'dir steps in a little further into the room. "Am I disrupting something," He asks softly, keeping in mind what this room is.
Tarrant almost spins out of his chair, gazing at Kav with a slightly wounded look - quickly masked. "Why are you here, K'dir? You could get in trouble through sheer association with me."
K'dir sighs as his shoulders drop and he shakes his head. "You're either up or down, aren't you?"
"Don't exagerate, Tarrant," is Ilesyn's immediate response. "It isn't as bad as you think it is." She manages to smile towards K'dir, noting, "He's upset, but he'll be okay, I think."
Tarrant barks a short, mirthless gasp of laughter. "Absolutely. Hard to find the middle ground."
K'dir nods and smiles. "That's good," he says quietly. "I just came to say good night. I'm going on up to bed."
Ilesyn glowers, staring at Tarrant darkly. "Which is exactly what you need to learn to do. Be reasonable, and then things might happen reasonably."
Tarrant stands quickly and drops a light arm companionably about K'dir's shoulders. "You are a /good/ friend, Kav. I'm glad to know you - and glad that you think i'm not a complete wherry."
K'dir hugs Tarrant back. "Just take it easy on my cousin, eh? You two are sometimes a bid too much alike for each other's good."
K'dir goes over to give Ilesyn a bit of a warm hug, too.
Tarrant blinks at /that/, and then gives the rider a companionable ruffle of his hair once he gets back. "Goodnight, Kav."
Ilesyn hesitates a moment, but then allows herself to be hugged, arms fumbling to return the motion. "Good night," she agrees, echoing Tarrant.
K'dir smiles at yo both as he steps out into the snowy cold night, his flight jacket just thrown over his shoulders for the quickl flight up to his weyr.
K'dir walks off northwestwards to the center bowl.
"That young man is quite dear to me. Like a brother," Tarrant muses.
"It seems," responds Ilesyn, quietly, "That he has become that to many. He's-- an intrinsically nice person."
Tarrant nods at you. "Is that rare?" A shrug. "Before my 'brother' came in, we were talking, I believe. About how to be respectfully careful with J'van, since we know i'm seeing him soon."
Ilesyn hesitates long enough for it to be evident that she's thinking, and then nods. "I think so. Most people expect things in return - K'dir just gives, without hesitation." Her fingers are twined together, head inclined forward again. "Ah, yes. Explain to J'van what happened, but don't let your emotions get in the way. Be reasonable, admit that you shouldn't have said what you did, but note that you were frustrated at S'vilen's actions. If you admit that you were in the wrong, but that you thought he was overreacting, you might manage to come out all right."
Tarrant nods and listens intently. His encounter with K'dir seems to have positively reenergized him. "I /did/ overreact, and I was wrong. I should have chewed him out privately," Tarrant murmurs. "He lost face. Most certainly I shall not let emotion cloud me when I speak with J'van. He'll hear both sides of this mark, though."
Ilesyn manages even as much as a true smile, nodding. "Well-- not chewed out. Chewing out someone who out ranks you is generally frowned upon. 'Brought up your concerns' might be a better way to put it." Ilesyn, the hypocritical. "But you're right - he lost face, and he lost face in front of his little sister. That can't have made him feel good." Again, her head is brought into a nod. "Excellent."
Tarrant murmurs, "Any suggestions for me when dealing with J'van? Any personal peeves I should avoid?"
Ilesyn considers. "I admit, I don't know J'van all that well," she says, "And he's one person I don't think I've managed to piss off. So-- be polite, but don't brownnose, I suppose."
Tarrant actually smirks at your admission. "Well, it's nice to know that i'm not the only person pissing people off around here. And I don't have the brown-nosing genetic equation in my background."
"You don't know me all that well, do you?" responds Ilesyn, eyes gleaming. "I-- I'm told that I don't have much tact. S'vilen and I have had a run-in of our own, so I can assure you that I know how you feel."
Tarrant now grins lopsidedly. "I /know/ you're tactless. I was in stuck in here for sevendays with you. And I know that I can be tactless when pushed - and you've been the brunt of it at times." The smirk fades from the hunter's face as he ponders. "What the Shell /is/ rammed up the Weyrsecond's behind? That man is... almost insufferable. And i've /truly/ gone out of my way not to upset him.
Ilesyn's lips twitch. "I'm glad to see that that hasn't gone unnoticed, then," she agrees, entirely unrepentant about her flaw. She pauses. "I don't know. He's... well, so reserved that he can't cope with a lot of things. Quick to anger, not very open to new ideas. I am certainly not a fan of him, myself."
Tarrant nods. "Rather arrogant, hidebound, touchy, quick to anger, reserved, traditional, hopefully not completely without humor. I talked to him for a few seconds the other day - he seemed well, as decent as he ever gets." A rub a the soft stubble of his cheeks and chin. "And i'm most certainly am not, either. Thought he could as easily say the same about me."
"An apt description," agrees Ilesyn, sinking into silence again, as she muses over her thoughts. "Oh, that's just it. He's amiable, I suppose, but-- he's difficult to feel comfortable with, because he's so straight. Narrow. Whatever it is." Again, she nods. "I guess we just put up with him. It's easier - try and avoid too much contact, and lie low."
Tarrant mumbles an affirmative. "Though I won't go out of my way to leave someplace if he happens to walk in. I just don't need to do anything more than be remotely polite." A quick nod, and the hunter's deep blue eys turn to sheet ice for a second. "I'll be Scorched if I ever stoop to him, though. I'm not a dragonrider."
Ilesyn's gaze remains steady, as she agrees, "Reasonable. Don't make it look as though you're avoiding him, or ignoring him. Be natural, but polite." She shifts her shoulders, stretching them, as she adds, warmth attempting to melt Tarrant's iciness, "Good. Don't give in for what you are. Dragonriders are no better than anyone else."
Tarrant grins and nods. "After living in a Weyr half my life, i've seen it. They're as human as anyone else. And the Weyrsecond only proves it rather painfully." Tarrant suddenly rises, and stretches. "My thanks, Ilesyn. When we next butt heads in the future, i'll be certain to rein myself in a bit more, since I find that I like you more than would normally would be believed. Good evening, and I hope this who farking stupid charade has made your evening."
"Moreso, probably, because they're so inflated with their self-professed importance," concludes Ilesyn, grinning, as she inclines her head forwards. "It's made my evening more interesting, at the very least. It's-- well, not been a pleasure, but certainly not an awful thing. You're not so bad yourself. Not so different, perhaps."
Tarrant blinks. "Me and the Weyrsecond? Or me and you?" A tiny, impish grin.
Ilesyn considers, before noting, "Both, perhaps. Although you're certainly /not/ anything so near as Hidebound as the Weyrsecond, I'll quickly note."
Tarrant chuckles at that, and gives you an intricate, half-mocking, half-serious little bow. "Now there's something i'll have to think about." With a wink, he turns and leaves you to your thoughts.
Tarrant walks off northwestwards to the center bowl.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 11:22 AM