December 21, 2003
When former Starcrafter Kiora visits the Hold, Talysen is deliberately rude.

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You walk out into the coutyard.

Talysen's strides are lazy, with a side of disrespect, leading her from the Crafthall towards the general area of the Main Hall. She's dressed in what apparently passes as her pyjamas - and she's rumpled looking enough to suggest that, regardless of the time of day, she's just gotten out of bed.

Kiora is heading out of the main hall, as it happens, looking respectable in leathers. She's trailed by a lanky, black-haired boy carrying a stack of hides, and is chattering animatedly with very little regard for where she's going. "And B'myr showed me this neat way to get to the star stones from the baths, so I can go up there and look even when Siramyth's sleeping. You'll have to come see someday, Talbot -" She's interrupted (thankfully) by Talbot's abrupt "Evening, Master Talysen." Kiora is not put off, though, and promptly begins speaking again. "Evening, Master Talysen. Like I was saying, Talbot --" Ramble-ramble, et cetera.

Talysen casts a distinctly venomous glare at Talbet, apparently without cause, as their paths cross. Said expression does not change as she pauses to stare Kiora up and down like a prize pumpkin that has beaten her own entry. Snidely, she responds, "Good evening, Talbot. What have we got here, mm? Cozying up to the... Weyrwoman."

Talbot, somehow, manages not to glower, and instead forces a smile that is no more pleasant. "Hardly, Master Talysen. Kiora wanted to look at some of my notes, and since she's here, I figured I'd just send them with her now." Kiora agrees with an emphatic nod. "If it's not a problem, 'course. I don't have a firelizard to take them back and it saves him the trouble of finding one. Don't feel obliged to call me a weyrwoman, either, Master Talysen -- seems awkward." She smiles in what she assumes is an ingratiating manner.

Talysen wears her disbelief - feigned or otherwise - like a cloak, snorting horse-like at Talbot. "Oh, come now, Talbon," she seems to have forgotten his name; it figures, "Don't play dense. Our little chick has flown the nest, and you're doing your best to use her position to boost your own." She turns, slightly, to bestow a knowing smile on Kiora. "Of course, of course. Play down the power. Makes the little folk more comfortable." /Someone/ got up on the wrong side of the bed.

"Tal/bot/," Kiora corrects amiably. "And I haven't flown from any nests lately, but really, I dunno what all the fuss is about. Talbot's my friend, and I /really/ don't want anyone calling me weyrwoman, 'specially not you, you bein' a Master and all." Talbot just twitches. He's still a starcrafter, so it's far less wise for him to say anything.

"Talnot," repeats Talysen, airily - unconcerned. "Oh, of course you would say that /now/. But we understand, truly we do. You'll go home and talk about how hard it is to chat to the little people." Talbot is fastened with a dark smirk, while the starcrafter gesticulates with her hands. "You ought to be sending your lackies to run such errands for you. Your time is too important."

Kiora looks as if she's unsure whether to cry or get angry, so she opts to huff and let her eyes water up as a happy medium. "I'd say that anyway! I didn't /decide/ to become a weyrwoman, s'not /my/ fault -- or Siramyth's, it's just what happened. I'm just -- trying to come visit my friends!" Talbot quirks an eyebrow, remarking with the utmost politeness, "Of course, /now/ she could just go home and talk about what horrible hospitality she got from her former fellow crafters, Master Talysen, which is sure to make all of them eager to come to the Hall."

Talysen, for a moment, looks /almost/ pleased. Then, it turns to a commiserating smile, her head shaking quietly. "I'm sure it's very difficult. You're to be commended at how well you deal with it. Perhaps you'll make a better weyrwoman than Starcrafter." Talysen swings her gaze over Talbot's head, lazily, "Come now, Taldor. We all know that riders look down upon Starcrafters, no matter the reception they receive. It's about time we responded in turn."

"/I/ was a starcrafter," Kiora states, crossing her arms and deciding just to look cross. "I don't look down on /anyone/, 'cause my parents taught me that it's rude to think yourself better than people. I dunno who /you've/ been talking too, but they must not be very respectable." Talbot, at a lack for anything else to add that isn't disrespectful, again notes, "And my name's Tal/bot/."

Talysen's apparently biases are a curious thing for someone who - according to rumour - has been sleeping with the Lord Holder for turns. She smiles, though it's not a pleasant smile. "Of course, Weyrwoman," she says, with a faux sweetness to her voice. "If you say so. Forget I mentioned it." Her right hand is waved airily at Talbot, "Dalbot, whatever."

"You're very rude, you know," Kiora ventures to say, backing up a step and paling slightly. "I always thought that Masters were better people than that. D'you make everyone feel so guilty, Master Talysen, or do I get special treatment as a former starcrafter?"

The night grows late, midnight fast approaching on this spring evening. Flashes of lightning illuminate the sky 'neath a heavy layer of clouds. Thunder booms every few minutes, and a steady rain falls. The spring air is cool with an edge of perpetual humidity. (61F, 16C)

Talysen lifts thickly haired brows just slightly, her smile curving lazily about her features again. "Just like Weyrwomen, Masters have no compulsion to be /anything/ -- except experienced at their craft." The latter question she does not answer, though her mouth opens slightly.

Kiora frowns thoughtfully, and rocks back and forth, taking time with her response. "But from my experience, even though I don't have all that much, that ... that compulsion isn't supposed to have anything to do with makin' people feel so left out. /I/ didn't come to make fun of everyone 'cause they don't get to do my job, I came to see my friends, and make some time to keep learnin' what might be useful now that I'm a weyrwo -- a rider. I don't see why you have to be so cranky about that."

Talbot, who is not forgotten, just lingers in the background, attempting to find someplace to set his hides down until the girlfolk are finished.

"Oh, you feel left out?" says Talysen, with mock-sympathy. "Oh, the poor little weyrwoman. So left out and alone." Again, she ignores what - apparently - she has no answer for.

"Yes," Kiora replies promptly, stepping up again and putting her arms at her sides, fists clenched. "I feel like I'm bein' harrassed for somethin' I haven't done or tried to do or /anything/. What's your problem with me, Master? So I can either fix it or just avoid you if it's nothin' I can help."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Weyrwoman. I'll just let you get on your way, then, shall I? Good evening." And Talysen turns, abruptly, upon her heel, heading back towards the Main Hall. Well.

"/Arr/," Kiora replies eloquently. "Can't answer any questions properly, can she, Talbot?" Ki turns, too, and she and the boy head off towards Siramyth. "It'd be a wonder if anything got done in her classes ... an' you can just hand those up to me once I'm on Sira, 'kay? That'll be easiest."

Talysen disappears into the Hall, without glancing back, or altering her lazy, haphazard stride. Strange woman.

You head up the short flight of stairs to the Main Hall.

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