Who: Rori, Nala, Inaskashath, Jynth
Where: Rori’s Weyr, Honshu Weyrhold
What: Rori is angry that Arlet has got married.
Rori has not quite been herself since Aerishani informed her that she and O’rlen would be attending Arlet’s wedding. //Wedding//. Rori could not hide her stunned expression. “To a man?” she blurted out to Aerishani and instantly regretted it. There is no true reason for her sour mood, for Rori has everything she may want, and yet — and yet, she’s been spending much of her free time baking. She’s been baking so much that she’s gifted much of it around the Weyrhold and people are beginning to wonder what might be causing their junior weyrwoman to behave in such a manner. She’s in the kitchen again this evening, her attention focused on another tiered cake that she’s meticulously decorating. Inasashath is //bored// as she reaches her attention towards Jynth. << My love? Where are you? She will never leave this kitchen and I am tired of being ignored for puffed pastry. >>
<< She is only distracted, >> is Jynth’s opinion, yet he states so as if it is a fact, distorted shimmer of heat rising from metal warming his words. << She could never ignore you. >> Still, he soon lands beside Inaskashath and lets Nala slip down to the ground without any evidence of straps having been used, leaving her to head into Rori’s weyr and through to the kitchen without announcing her presence. She reaches a stop before the cake and the goldrider, each observed with a quietly unreadable expression, and folds her arms while giving an audible sigh. “Not that I am necessarily of a mind to dissuade you from continuing with such creations, but you should be aware that you have produced such a volume that it is becoming obvious to many that it is a symptom and not simply something done for pleasure,” she informs her. “A symptom of what, I feel it would be best for you to identify yourself.”
<< She is trying to be distracted >> Inaskashath notes with a wave of irritation, << And in doing so she is accomplishing nothing. >> She turns to Jynth once he lands, curving her body around his as Nala moves within the weyr. << Nala will help her sort herself out. >> is observed with confidence as Inaskashath queries, << Where have you two been? Is she well? >> Rori looks up at Nala and her sigh, moving to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand and smudge flour and sugar without care for what it does to her appearance. “I needed to stay busy,” she tells Nala as she glances down to her cake. “I’m… angry,” she tells her without making eye contact. “That she would invite O’rlen and Aerishani but exclude me. Was it a slight to me personally? Were only Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen allowed? She takes //our// eggs to //her// home without so much as a thank you or a promise to tend to them and then she goes and gets married and..,” she throws her hands up in the air and then promptly folds them in front of her. “I have no reason to care but I’m angry all the same.”
<< She will be, >> is all Jynth can say conclusively, as evasive as he ever is in revealing anything of his rider’s thoughts and feelings. His feelings are an easier matter, for he curls into Inaskashath and loops his tail around hers, snuggling close. “What if it was a slight to you personally?” Nala questions, tilting her head slightly. “What then?” She pulls out a chair from beneath the table and sits. “The matter of the eggs was out of our hands and highly unlikely to have been directly to do with her. She has no obligation to you, nor you to her. I believe any sense of that must have dissolved when you became Weyrwoman of the Weyr that was once hers. It cannot be said that that helped matters, surely.” Leaning back in her seat, she asks, “Are you upset because it seems she does not care enough about you to invite you, or that you are not the one she has married?” She lets no hint of any emotional investment in an answer surface, the matters placed before Rori in a practical and objective manner.
“I never wanted to marry her!” Rori’s is fast and clear as she rolls her eyes towards the ceiling and shakes her head. “What was I going to do? Tell everyone no to Fort? I had a duty to do as she did when she first went there.” She drops her arms to her side and grabs her icing bag to once more return to decorating the cake with delicate swirls. “Now it’s trendy for dragonriders to marry,” she mutters as she gentle turns the cake to continue decorating the other side. “And it’s no different than when Holders or Crafters do it. It’s a way to show off and show people up and make deliberate choices in doing so.” She pauses in her work and stares at Nala. “She went from Weyrleader of Fort with two lovers, to being a mother, now she’s gone and gotten married. It’s //ridiculous//.” Now that she’s uncorked her feelings they keep pouring out. She rubs the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m being unkind,” she observes, “but I can’t help it. At least, I don’t want to help it at this moment.” She looks back at her cake. “I know it’s the wrong reaction and I’m sure I’m disappointing you.”
“I think it would be a waste of everyone’s energy and incredibly petty if weddings were simply to show up other people,” Nala remarks, watching the cake rather than Rori herself. “If you believe the intention was to humiliate you or highlight any perceived inferiority, it would have been much more effective if they had actually invited you, so that people might witness it,” shades a little too dry. “What is interesting,” not disappointing, “is that you appear to be jealous. You could have held Fort if you wanted it. You could have anyone that you wish in your bed. You could be a mother. You could marry one day, if you chose to.” It’s quite deliberate when she runs her finger along one tier of the cake, drawing icing away that she licks from her fingertip. “You could have had those things with her, if you wanted them. Is that it?” She goes back for more icing, feigning obliviousness to what damage she is doing to the cake. “Perhaps you should seek her out. Talk with her. It is not as if Honshu does not know how to contact her.”
Rori pauses in her decorations further as Nala approaches and she lets the blueriders words settle over her. She watches Nala swipe icing with a furrowed brow and a tighter grip to her icing bag. She doesn’t notice it oozing on to the counter. “Maybe it makes me angry that we have to fight so hard to be together safely and she’s the one that started this fight with the Council and now she’s washed her hands completely of it.” She raises a brow as Nala continues to swipe at icing and reaches into the cake to rip a fistful of cake and icing out which she holds towards Nala with the hint of a smile on her lips. “Here, darling. Don’t stick to the icing alone.” She waits until Nala is near enough and then she reaches the cake up and smooshes it against Nala’s cheek. “Well?” she wonders, feigning surprise as she looks at her empty hand. “How did that happen?”
“The Council may not have been pleased that a brownrider was a Weyrleader, but they left her and other female brownriders who had flown queens well enough alone until Jynth decided that he wanted Inaskashath for his own,” Nala states, something darkening and distancing her gaze. “You can blame her for what he and I did all you like, but I am the one who cost her her rank, her Weyr and almost her life and mine. The Council could live with her. Not with me. It was too much. She started nothing, Rori. And you made your choices.” She only regains her focus as the cake touches her cheek and she levels an even stare on Rori. “Do you feel better now?” she enquires, dragging her nails through the cake to remove as much as she can. “You need to face how you feel and stop hiding away in here. And, until you do, I am going to do this to everything you make.” Promptly, she yanks at the base that the cake rests on and tips it towards Rori, making it topple over and collide with her.
“No, I feel foolish,” Rori admits as she stares at Nala, letting the full weight of her rage fall to settle in her stomach. She doesn’t have long to try and gather more words to say before the cake is toppled down and smashes into chest and dashes across her face before it crumbles on the table and splats icing on the floor. Her hands lift up in surprise as she stares, open-mouthed at her crumbled creation and then levels the same face on Nala. She flicks her fingers down her chest and shakes chunks of icing and cake on the table wordlessly. “I guess I started that,” she states, continuing to grab and flick things off of her. “I don’t know how I feel other than angry,” she tells Nala, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I’m angry. I don’t think it has much to do with Arlet… aside from feeling like she started everything.” She shakes her head and admits, “That’s the foolish bit, I know.” She smashes her hand down on the toppled cake to squeeze more mess out on the table. She lifts her gaze to Nala. “I’m sorry.”
“I think, perhaps, that you ought to consider why you are angry and if being so means that you are not content with what you have,” Nala says slowly. “If her marriage causes you to be unhappy, maybe it is an indication of what you feel you are lacking. In being unable to be happy for her… to the extent that it would appear… It seems that you doubt your own decisions. Or perhaps you feel guilty. If she would tolerate it, I would think seeing her and putting whatever you feel to rest would be an appropriate course of action.” She rises from her seat and moves to the nearest counter to snatch up a dishcloth and wipe the last of the cake from her face. “Ultimately, the choice is yours. To see her or otherwise. At the very least, I would examine your feelings. You could have everything that she has – and more. I suppose it depends on whether you feel what you have now is what you still – or will – want later.” Still not one bit of her own feelings does she let show, her, “I should take Cinder for her walk,” uttered as any other evening, as she turns to head back the way she came.