You amble southwestwards to the shores of Fort's lake.
Sanriel is on the beach, stretched out on a wide blanket wearing the equivalent of two straps of deep blue fabric, with a straw hat over her face to make sleeping in the sunlight easier.
If Ilesyn had hoped to be alone, she's out of luck. Theoretically, she's quite possibly not supposed to be here - hence the slow, careful wariness of her stride. Sanriel is caught sight of, and the Mindhealer-weyrling turns her stride, heading around towards the other side of the lake.
Sanriel is blissfully oblivious, and doesn't even twitch. Perhaps she really /is/ asleep - and if so, is likely to get overly-well-done on that side.
Ilesyn's wary of being 'caught', but apparently, she's more wary of Sanriel. Which means, in her desperate attempts to keep tabs upon the apparently sleeping harper, she miss-steps, and ends up slipping in the sand, and ending up upon her rear.
Sanriel cracks an eyelid beneath the hat, and peers under the brim. More admirers? No, merely Ilesy-ooooh... Ilesyn! One arm raises to shift the hat from face to forehead, and she props herself up on both elbows to watch the weyrling's graceful progress.
Ilesyn's expression turns sour. It's hard to miss Sanriel's motion, and though Ilesyn's rarely particularly worried about how she looks to anyone, the idea was not to attract attention from that quarter. She pulls herself to her feet, dusting herself off calmly, and turns again - away from the Harper.
Sanriel eyes Ilesyn a moment longer before calling out. "Ilesyn! Hello! Didn't see you there at first... What's going on?" Yeah, right.
Ilesyn turns, albeit reluctantly. A smile is forced -- literally -- onto her face, and she takes a few steps closer. "Nothing," is her quick response, and then, more slowly - drawled, "I'm just walking. Doing some self-assessment."
"Come sit," Sanriel invites cheerfully, patting the blanket beside her. "You've got a moment before... What was his name? Hasanth.. Baeda-no, that's Tarra-T'nar... Shards, I can't keep /anyone's/ name straight anymore! Anyway, you've got a moment before he needs you, haven't you?"
Ilesyn strives to hide her reluctance, and joins Sanriel, her legs crossed in front of her as she takes a seat upon the blanket. "I guess I've a few moments before he needs me," she agrees - not entirely hiding her wince at the subject.
"What's his name?" Sanriel wonders curiously, apparently without malice.
Ilesyn swallows. Several times. Muttered, beneath her breath, comes: "Nallath." Almost inaudible.
"Nallath," Sanriel tastes the name, then asks curiously. "Is it very different than you imagined? To have someone crawling around in /your/ head for a change, I mean?"
Ilesyn's expression turns vaguely relieved - she's not been made to repeat the name. Life is good. "Yes," she agrees, promptly. "It's nothing like I could imagine - nothing like I did imagine. I don't think it's possible to describe, even clinically."
"Oh?" That response only piques Sanriel's curiosity, and she sits up, wrapping her arms around her drawn-in knees, the better to listen intently. "Have your views on dragonriding changed? Err, I suppose you haven't actually /ridden - Nallath - yet, hmm?"
Ilesyn turns her head, gazing out over the lake rather than facing Sanriel. "I don't know," she admits, honestly. "I still think people are fools for wanting to do it, and yet-- well /he/ is more than I could have imagined. It's something of a compensation for the stupidity I'm going to have to join in on."
Sanriel chuckles softly before offering. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won't be around to watch it."
Ilesyn's gaze turns back. "You're leaving."
Elaesyth lifts her head and wuffles softly. Even to draconic ears (do they have ears?), this isn't sounding good.
Sanriel nods. "I presume, yes. Perhaps not. Actually, I don't know." With this confusing statement, she pulls a crumpled and many-times-folded letter from beneath one corner of the blanket. Glancing over at Elaesyth and handing the letter to Ilesyn simultaneously, she wonders quietly "Is that Avila's green? Faranth, I think it is. Shhh. This is secret."
Ilesyn stares calmly at Sanriel, accepting the letter somewhat hesitantly - a glance going towards Elaesyth, though her quick turn away is no doubt more due to the fact that she's here, and not with Nallath, than for any other reason. "Yes, it is," she confirms, unfolding the letter to peer at it.
Sanriel pages: The letter is very short, with the Harper Hall, and just asks for San to attend dinner at the end of the month.
"Hmm," Sanriel gives Elesyth a long, thoughtful look before she realizes that she's perhaps being rude, and raises a hand to wave. Turning back to Ilesyn, she says "See?"
Ilesyn gives a light shrug of her shoulders, handing the letter back once she's finished with it. "So what? Healer Hall used to send things like that all the time, so that we could ooh and ahh over other people walking the tables."
Sanriel shakes her head. "Harper doesn't do that. At least... not to posted harpers. Not to me."
Ilesyn stretches out her legs in front of her, bare toes wiggling against the sandy shore of the lake. "Well," she declares, calmly, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see, then. What do /you/ think it means?"
"A promotion." Sanriel says certainly. "Or a new posting. Or both." Shaking her head, less certainly, she continues. "I've got a week to find out, and I'm /dying/ to know. Analisa won't /tell/ me, which means it's either very good, or very bad. Or she's just being closemouthed. Not even Shoo knows what's going on."
Ilesyn comments, dryly, "Then perhaps you'll reach your goal. Composition Master before Twenty-five," she mimics - and is that a note of bitterness? /Her/ goal will never be reached. "You'll cope. But if it is a new posting, you'll have to come back and say goodbye, before you go." Does that mean Ilesyn cares?
Nervous again, Sanriel snatches the letter back and tucks it under the blanket again. "Yes, well. Of course I will. If that's what it is. Maybe you're right. Maybe the Hall's decided to take a page from Healer's book, and invite everyone to everything." Biting a knuckle nervously, she admits. "Faranth, I hope not."
Ilesyn's hands are crossed within her lap, her smile somewhat knowing. "Perhaps. I guess you'll just have to wait and see."
"Obviously!" Sanriel shoots back sarcastically. "It's not like I can bounce forward six days and see what happ-ooh..." What an idea.
Ilesyn's brows raise, though she doesn't query Sanriel's statement. "Somehow, I think that's going a little far. It's just a promotion. Does it really matter?" Because Ilesyn doesn't want to hear, evidently.
Sanriel looks at the Mindhealer like she suddenly grew another head, then says slowly. "I like to think that you know me pretty well, Ilesyn. In fact, I count you as a friend when I'm not angry with you. Now, taking what you know of me, do you -think- it 'really matters'?"
Ilesyn's eyes are shut, her head drooping slightly. "Of course it matters," she admits, somewhat sullen. "But please remember that all your excitement about a possible promotion in your craft is rather harsh to my ears - because I will never get the promotion I once had dreams about. I'm sorry if it sounds as though I am raining on your parade, but there it is."
Sanriel is silent, letting that soak in. After a moment, sh reaches a hand out to pat the Healer on the shoulder - and then thinks better of it. "I'm sorry, Ilesyn. I didn't think of it that way. I thought that... Well, I guess I thought that Naianth would sort of... I guess not." The hand pauses a moment longer, then returns to it's place curled around her leg.
"No, no, it's fine. This is your career - of course you should be enthusiastic about it." Ilesyn's words don't seem to decrease the amount of self-pity she has; her expression remains morose. "And it's Nallath." Muttered, beneath her breath.
Sanriel pauses another moment, then reaches that hand out again, giving the Healer a swift, friendly pat on the shoulder. "Buck up. We can go get rip-roaring drunk, or have a big, pointless debate if it'll make you feel better... Maybe both."
For once, the Healer doesn't shy away from that touch, though her expression remains rueful. "I wish. I'm not allowed to drink, remember. But pointless debate-- no, what's the bet we couldn't think up something to debate on," she concludes, wryly.
Sanriel pats once more, chuckling. "I won't tell. And it'll be a cold day in Monaco when you and I can't find something juicy to argu-debate about. Come on, we can go to my quarters and no one will bother us."
Ilesyn nods once, drawing herself towards her feet, hands immediately seeking towards her pockets. "I haven't been into the inner caverns since I collected my stuff," she notes, almost conversationally. "We'll have to think of debate topics as we walk. Just-- if I have to leave quickly, it's because..." her head is indicated towards the side.
Sanrielnods quickly and bounces to her feet, turning to lift the blanket and shake the sand out before tucking it over her arm. "It's a deal." She says with a grin. "And here's a topic for you - what sort of magic do I need to perform to get you to act in a play?"
"Me? /Act/" Ilesyn rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her as she waits for Sanriel, and then starts to trot back towards the weyr. "I don't think there's any way on Pern that you could manage that, I'm afraid..." And thus the argu-- discussion begins.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:59 PM