April 24, 2003
Shiae and R'hyn jump on Cardixa - and promote her to Wingleader.

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Dragon> Viasseth senses that Arisvath's touch is warm, like a fluffy blanket heated in front of the hearth, and his voice carries the faintest hint of a drawl. << Viasseth? >> Sharp, to the point, though perfectly polite. << Your rider's presence is requested. >>

Dragon> Arisvath senses that Viasseth comes suddenly awake, banishing his dream-haze to nothingness. << We come. >> His own voice is obedient, punctuated with the pungent smell of sea-salt.

Cardixa comes into the weyr.

A large table that Holders would use to seat the entire family has been moved into R'hyn's weyr - and what looks like the entire contents of the records room dumped onto it. Shiae stands behind it, arms braced against the wood, and scowling as she watches R'hyn pace. And pace. And fidget, and pace. "I still say it's the most logical, after the last fiasco." She shakes her head, frowning. "Will you sit? You'd think you were out on the Sands."

"I don't -know-," complains R'hyn, all frustration and poignantly pointed words. Pace. Fidget. "Sit. Oh." His expression turns almost relieved, as though he'd forgotten the existence of the common chair. He turns, sinking into the nearest, though the stylus in his hand continues to be twisted between his fingers.

Cardixa enters briskly, coming to a respectful -- if somewhat casual -- attention just within the entrance. "Hello the weyr," she says evenly, nodding at both Shiae and R'hyn. She pauses uncertainly, a slight twitch tugging at her eyebrows. Momentarily, she adds, "And good evening."

Shiae looks up at the brownrider's entrance. Dix could probably see her eyes rolling, though (with any luck at all) R'hyn won't. A girl can hope. "Cardixa," she greets, as coolly as if she'd caught Dix doing something obscene with sheep in the middle of a Gather. "How are you and Viasseth?"

R'hyn doesn't. Observant, he is not. Cardixa's entrance - for whatever reason - catches him unawares, and he immediately flinches just enough so that he drops his toy, and immediately leans down to scramble for it on the floor. "Uh," he begins, his words nearly colliding with Shiae's. "Yes. Good evening, brownrider." If his tone is intended to mimic Shiae's, he's doing an abysmal job of it.

Cardixa isn't some daft holder girl just newly arrived at the Big Skeery Weyr; something flickers in her eyes, sharpening them as they focus -- first inwardly, pensive, and then outwardly, responsive. Cautiously, suspiciously, she ventures, "We're fine, thank you." Another pause. "But you didn't call me down here to ask me how I'm doing."

"No," Shiae agrees, her tone still remote, "We didn't." She pushes herself lightly away from the table, folding her arms across her chest. "The Weyrleader and I have been discussing you and your... brown, actually." There's the faintest of hesitations before naming Viasseth's color.

R'hyn's nose wrinkles. For what purpose is unclear; his attention seems to be wavering between the stylus and the brownrider, as if he can't decide what is safer to look at. "Yes," says he, finally, and not quite firmly. "Viasseth."

Cardixa looks away from Shiae to search R'hyn's face -- he's the most confused of the two, and therefore, the most readable -- but, finding no clues (save for his oh-so-helpful echoing), she returns her full attention to the Weyrsecond. "Really." She shifts her weight a little.

"Really," Shiae confirms. So now that -that's- utterly clear... "R'hyn," she urges, a smidgen louder, "Wanted especially to discuss with you your performance in Fall." She turns a pointed stare on R'hyn - your cue - and waits there, her gaze almost... smouldering, completely at odds with her voice.

R'hyn nearly jumps again. Oh. Right. Him. He clears his throat. "Your performance in fall," he repeats, and then clears his throat again. "Uh, how do you think you've been going, in fall?" The stylus is nearly dropped again, and, going pink in the face, he hastily sets it down upon the table, in between two piles of hides. He'll never find it again.

"*R'hyn* did, did he?" Cardixa affects a more pointedly interested tone now, looking back at the bronzerider. She's catching on to some game now, and is more than willing to play. "And what does the good Weyrleader have to say about my performance?" Not a hint of sarcasm, here: Just the question, plain and simple. And when his question comes, she is ready: "We have been doing everything we should be. If we had been doing otherwise, I would have been informed."

Him, right. The Weyrleader. But it's Shiae's cool voice that breaks in again. "Perhaps we're informing you now."

"If you were informing me," comes Cardixa's riposte, equally cool, "you wouldn't be asking me, you'd be telling me."

R'hyn opens his mouth, and then shuts it again, when Shiae speaks. Yes, that's it. "Precisely, Shiae." He clears his throat - yes, yet again - and then remarks, "Perhaps you're right, Cardixa. So: what do I have to say about your performance? I don't think you're flying in the right place in formation. Viasseth is all wrong for it."

"Doesn't have what we're looking for in that wing," Shiae confirms, amusement - at Dix's words? R'hyn's? Some thought of her own? - lighting her eyes. "Completely unsuitable."

Cardixa's eyebrows shoot towards her hairline, at once defensive -- and then, apparently thinking the better of it, she rolls her shoulders, clasping her fingers together behind her back. "Really," she says again, trying to drawl -- but it comes out too fast this time, and she compensates by a quick lip-moistening. "And, ah, where *should* we be flying?"

R'hyn passes the baton back to Shiae, turning to face her, and tilting his head forward. "I think, Shiae, you would be better to describe our plan to be rid of this... ah, little problem." He's turned pink around his cheeks again, and his eyes seem far more interested in the hides on the table, than the two women.

Impatience flares in Cardixa's eyes at the Weyrleader's words, but she swallows that, too, replacing it with another small, sharp nod.

Shiae purses her lips at R'hyn, the moue most likely disguising her amusement from those who don't work with her daily. "You're going to have to do this eventually," she tells him with a faint headshake before turning back to Dix and leaning on the table again. "We want you to take over the wing." An eyebrow quirks. "Was that plain enough for you, Wingleader?"

"I did it last time," is R'hyn's oh-so-quick response - nearly a whine in tone. "Kymberli. And we all know how that turned out."

Cardixa stiffens, relaxes, and stiffens again, fighting to keep her expression neutral -- and doing a fair job of it, too, were the rest of her body not twitching with excitement. "I see." Is she slick or what? The look she gives R'hyn falls somewhere between disgust and guilty amusement.

Shiae waits a heartbeat or three. "Do you want it, or not? There's always C'ret, if you turn it down." She turns to argue with R'hyn as if rehashing old topics. "...C'ret's being doing quite well since he got cleared by the dragonhealers. Or E'van - though Faranth knows putting /him/ in charge would put the tunnelsnake among the eggs."

"Not E'van," vetoes R'hyn, and, by his expression, not for the first time. "No way." His attention - and, at last, his gaze as well - is turned towards Cardixa, his eyebrows raising expectantly.

Shiae continues to argue as if Dix weren't there. "He was Wingsecond at Fort. Say what you might about that, he /does/ have experience."

R'hyn merely shakes his head, squinting. "It's bad enough that Mechelle and Serriena don't get along. I don't want more friction."

Cardixa blinks rapidly. "C'ret? *E'van*?" She's all indignation now, straightening up. "Of course I accept. I just didn't know if there was some ceremonial procedure I'm supposed to--" She trails off as Shiae and R'hyn take up what is evidently a rather old argument. She waits a while, letting them have their row, and then continues airily, "...Well, anyway, I just thought I'd fly Fall naked from now on..."

Shiae turns to Cardixa with a definite amused smirk. "Don't be a wherry, Cardixa. Here - come get your knot." Unlike /some/ people, when /she/ puts things down, she can find them again. Lift a single hide, and voila! A Wingleader's knot. How handy!

R'hyn's expression turns relieved, and he, in turn, reaches for the stylus-- at least, that's the theory, because he fumbles about on the table for a moment, and then gives up. "I'll mark it in the records, then." he says, somewhat lamely. "Uh. Congratulations, Cardixa."

And lo: The Powers That Be gave Cardixa Rank, and it was Good, and Riders Fled, and Babies Cried. A lot. And who is Cardixa not to take advantage of some good ol' fashioned despoti-- leadership? Stepping forward, she accepts the knot with a salute to both Weyrleader and Weyrsecond. "Thank you."

R'hyn snorts beneath his breath, though he composes his expression in order to nod firmly at Cardixa, and return the salute. "You'll need a Wingsecond, too, at some point."

Cardixa nods, and even though she maintains eye contact with Shiae, her hands play at the freshly knotted cords. "I know," she says to R'hyn. "I assume I'll need to consult with you first."

"Well, we don't want you stealing away other wingriders," the Weyrleader says drily - oh wait, no, that's Shiae's mouth moving. And R'hyn's hand is no where near her butt. "But look around, see what you think, and come discuss a few names."

And isn't that a relief. "What Shiae said," agrees R'hyn, rubbing at his eyes. "But we're not going to turn down anyone suitable, unless we've other plans for them."

Cardixa lifts an eyebrow. "...plans?" That sounded... ominous. But never mind that. "I will." And that one's to Shiae.

R'hyn merely shrugs his shoulders, smiles goofily, and then notes, "You're free to leave, I guess."

Shiae's smile is far more restrained. "Goodnight, Wingleader. And clear skies." She cocks her head toward the bowl and Carianth, then turns back to R'hyn. "Now about P'rell. Y'lan's been complaining..."

R'hyn's hands go up in the air immediately. "Don't talk to me about P'rell, Shiae!" Please. Oh, the arguments...

Cardixa nods the careful nod of one placating a small, slightly slow child. "I will, then. Thank you both, again -- I'll report to you once I've come up with a list of possib...il..." Oh, never mind: the Odd Couple's at it again. With a discreet eyeroll, she ducks out.

Cardixa heads out of the weyr.

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