August 31, 2004
Jondeval's mother, Finola, is none too pleased with R'hyn.

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You follow the stone steps into the expansive galleries.

Finola is sitting, or perhaps hiding, in the upper tiers of the galleries. Taking advantage of the dinnertime hours and the growing darkness the healer has stolen up into the benches in a search of solitude with a glass of wine.

On the sands, Arisvath arrives, furling his wings in tight to avoid disturbing Siramyth, or any of the precious, rather-hard eggs. R'hyn's not far behind him, covered in firestone dust and ash, but heads instead for the galleries, taking the steps slowly.

Finola removes her feet from the bench in front of her guiltily and slouches down until she reconizes R'hyn. After a few moments of consideration the healer raises one arm in a definate beaconing motion, calling out a low "Weyrleader!" so not to disturb the gold on the sands.

R'hyn turns, sharply, a little surprised - no doubt at being drawn from his reverie - but far from displeased. "Journeywoman," he says, warmly, with a quick bob of his head, as he turns about to approach the Healer. If there's been anything going around about her response to Jondeval's search, it's clear enough that he's heard none of it.

Finola raises her glass in greeting to the bronzerider and gestures towards all the empty places around her "Please, join me a moment. There is a couple small matters I wished to discuss with you." Despite a clear line forming between her furrowed brows Fin's expression is definately more friendly towards the weyrleader then it has been in the past.

Lulled by this - or perhaps just oblivious, in his own way, R'hyn accepts the invitation, settling himself into a seat just along the bench from Finola. "Of course-- I'm always willing to be of assistance," he assures, attempting to wipe his dirty face with an equally dirty hand.

Finola looks at R'hyn, about to start in on him when she notices how filthy he is. Scooting over a little so he doesn't get any such filth on her she asks "What have you been doing? Cleaning out the blackrock bunker?" Swirling the contents of her glass Fin suddenly decides to take a different approach on the poor man and says idly "I hear I have you to thank for Searching my son?"

R'hyn allows a somewhat bland, apologetic smile, for the former comment. "Firestone drills - just flaming, and all. I just wanted to stop in here for a moment before bathing." His posture straightens slightly, and he nods, a smile creeping onto his face. "He's a lovely boy, Journeywoman. I think he'll do well, make an excellent rider."

Finola sniffs and sneezes as she catches the smell of firestone "I should have known" she allows. The look she gives R'hyn says that maybe a bath before coming here would have been better but she continues on, deceptively mild in her tone. "Thank you R'hyn, I think he's a good boy too but then I'm biased. I do think he may be a tad....young, for all of this." Fin's face takes on a harsh expression as she hisses "I would probably feel better if he were at least -twelve sharding turns-"

R'hyn, for a moment, looks as though he's going to make a cheerful response to the first part of Finola's words; before he gets a chance, however, the latter sinks in. He freezes. "What? He's not-- but he-- I--" R'hyn turns scarlet.

Finola looks oddly gratified at R'hyn's reaction and leans back against the stone wall behind her "He was eleven turns last fall" she verifies firmly. "I'm not very...happy about this but I'm willing to see him on the Sands on Hatching day as long as I get your assurances on a few matters."

"I -swear- I did say he had to be twelve, and he didn't say he -wasn't- and..." R'hyn trails off, fidgeting with his fingers, and looking as though he would really like to sink through the ground at this moment. "We could. I mean, get him off the sands. Maybe. It's hard, but... Oh. Assurances? Yes. Of course."

Finola shoots R'hyn a sardonic look "You can thank T'ren for keeping me from huntin you down immediately when I got the news. No..my son has needed something to work towards in his life and this may just be it. If he doesn't Impress I'll be very happy but if he does..." Her voice goes a little hard and she looks about ready to spit nails again. "Assurances. First, I have been told he wouldn't fight thread right away if he did Impress. Is this true?"

R'hyn refrains from responding to the first comment, but nods, slowly, as Finola continues. "That's right. Not until sixteen, by our policy. I want no part in sending children to their potential deaths." He seems, by his expression, more than a little aware of the somewhat dual system of searching children, in spite of this.

Evening twilight disperses and the true darkness of a spring evening settles in fully. The skies are clear and clean while the idle fingers of a faint breeze stirs the air. The spring air is cool, still brisk but no longer icy. (50F, 10C)

Finola looks mildly reassured by this and nods "Sixteen turns then? That is good, plenty of time for training though I can say I'd feel a lot better if Thread was not falling." Taking a sip from the red wine in her glass Fin swallows before continuing "What about going between and flights?"

R'hyn bites at his lip, and clears his throat, quietly, nodding. "I understand that, Journeywoman. As a parent. It's not an easy thing. Between will be up to his Weyrlingmasters, should he Impress; if he's shown himself to have sufficient maturity to deal with it, he'll join the rest of the class - the same as with any other weyrling. If not, he'll be held back. Flights will depend upon his dragon, but usually, in such cases, the dragon is... inhibited by the youth of his rider. They tend to mature together."

Finola taps her almost empty glass with a fingernail as she admits lowly "I don't like this R'hyn, he's just a boy..but it would seem that this sort of thing has happened before." Resigned, the healer looks down at the eggs with a new eye "It doesn't seem as if we have much longer to wait..and thank you for your reassurances. I had heard them from others but I wanted them from your mouth too."

"I understand," says R'hyn, still pink, but perhaps a little more in control. "I promise, we'll do everything we can to look after your boy, Finola. I /am/ sorry for it-- I really didn't know he was quite so young." Glancing out over the eggs, he nods, half-smile flickering onto his face, "Less than a sevenday, at a guess."

Finola looks over at R'hyn with an odd look "Well, I'm sure he wasn't about to offer the information that he was too young himself. I'm sure if it was going to happen it would happen in the next couple of turns anyhow. Perhaps it's better this way." Another, closer look of the eggs is taken and she nods in agreement "Very soon now then, so you won't be sand sitting for too much longer. What will you do with yourself?" she half-jests.

R'hyn nods, slowly. "I suppose. But." His half-smile still in place, the Weyrleader admits, "Not had too much time for that, this time around. Far too much to do. But I'll go visit my daughter, as soon as they've hatched... and be thankful she's still turns away from searchable age."

Finola nods her understanding "It's been a busy turn for everyone I think" she says wryly. "Why don't you bring your daughter here? I'm sure you could find someone qualified to foster her so you can see her whenever you have a free moment instead of having to make time for a trip?" Lifting her eyebrows at the weyrleaders last words she adds "You will be horrified at how fast the turns will go."

R'hyn shakes his head, admittedly quietly, "I don't want to disrupt her life, again - make her leave her friends, my family. It would be selfish of me." Groaning, albeit good naturedly, he admits, "I worry that you're right. Already - well, it seems like just yesterday she was a baby."

Finola studies R'hyn out of the corner of her eye and asks just as quietly "Again?" From the reluctant tone of her voice it may seem she knows something about the circumstances but crafters who don't hold a high rank rarely hear the 'good stuff'. Waving a hand at the hatching grounds she says on a different vein "If you think a few turns pass fast try fifteen. Thats how long ago it was when I was posted here for the first time. Just a few days ago I tripped over that same odd step in the lower caverns that I tripped over the last time I was posted here and broke my finger. Felt like just yesterday."

"Her mother died shortly after I came here," says R'hyn, quietly solemn, his gaze avoiding Finola's. "Really? Fifteen-- I was back at Southern, fifteen turns ago. That doesn't seem too long ago, either. Is Fort much changed - I mean, aside from the obvious?"

Finola reaches out to put a comforting hand on R'hyn's arm but at the last moment she hesitates then pulls back, curling her fingers into a fist. "I'm sorry." she says honestly. Clearing her throat and looking around the galleries and hatching sands as if for the first time before answering "Changed? The people have changed but not Fort itself. Last time I was here Priane was Weyrwoman and...well, you would have heard all about that. I see a lot of the same people doing the same jobs but, I don't know. I've changed a lot since that time and sometimes it seems like I'm trying to slip back into a shoe that is two sizes too small."

R'hyn turns in time to note Finola's hand, but makes no comment, instead nodding his head, almost embarrassedly - though it's hard to say why that would be. "Er. Thank you. Ah. Yes. Priane, yes of course. I can... understand that, I think. You've seen a lot of things, since then, and-- so have they, but it's hard to reconcile that."

Finola holds back a sneeze "You are right of course, though sometimes I think that Fort has always been considered an unusual posting by the Healers." is said tactfully, probably referring to past and present situations between Hall and Weyr. "Well, I have taken enough of your time tonight Weyrleader, and kept you from your bath." Standing up and rubbing her arms against the chilly spring night the healer edges past him.

R'hyn's bland expression betrays the fact that the rider probably has a good idea as to what Finola is referring to. "Oh! Yes -- thank you. I really should get cleaned up. Um. Have a good night. And, uh, we really will look after your boy, I promise!"

Finola turns around with a chuckle and gives R'hyn a warm smile before slipping back into the living caverns "If I had thought that the Weyr wouldnt' take care of my son he wouldn't be still be a candidate. Have a pleasant evening now." The sound of her booted feet echo down the hall as she slips back into the warmth of the interior weyr.

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