So Very Negligent?

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrleaders' Office
Office and retreat, this is the domain of Xanadu's Weyrleaders. The door is in the southern wall, quite close to the western end while the northern wall is dominated by big, expansive windows, framed by sumptuous deep blue drapes edged with a brilliant gold braid and tied back with a thick rope of braided gold and blue cord. In between, the western wall is covered floor to ceiling with shelves that house all sorts of records, manuals and supplies that are used on a day-to-day basis.
The southern wall has the Weyrleader's desk — plain fellis wood, well polished and masculine. From behind his desk, the Weyrleader can look straight through the windows and out onto the main airspace of Xanadu. The eastern wall is where the Weyrwoman's desk resides: a lovely piece of furniture made of warm cherry wood. From her seat, a glance sideways gives her an equally good prospect out the window. There are a few other seats, some comfortably arranged around a low round table for small, informal meetings while there also some that can be drawn up to one of the desks.
On the west side of the door, the space is occupied by a low oblong table where refreshments can be set without someone needing to intrude. There is also an 'incoming' tray where incoming correspondence or similar items can be left.

IT'S WINTER, MOTHERSUCKER! And since you clearly haven't had enough snow (shhhh, let a girl live her dreams through RP), Xanadu is filled with it. Oh yeah, it's one of those snowy days where the air is crisp and the world is grey, turning noses and cheeks and the very tips of ears red with cold but nothing that can't be fixed by the application of scarves, and thick hats, and woolen gloves. Risali probably looks absolutely ridiculous, but you can just GO RIGHT ON AHEAD AND FIGHT HER. She's inside but still fully bundled up, nursing a mug of something steaming as she pours over some document from her desk, besocked feet pressed against the lip of wood in order to provide some kind of surface for her on the back of her thighs. It's probably not the most productive, but the Weyrwoman looks very intently focused on whatever it is that she's reading — and concerned. Concerned enough that, after a moment, she closes her eyes, brings the paper over her face, and sinks further down in her chair with an exhale of… questionable origin.

You know what those scarves and hats and gloves also are? ARMOR. For THAT FIGHT YOU GONNA HAVE. D'lei is not so equipped, because he's got an unfair thermal advantage, but he does have a cable-knit sweater, and a pair of thick socks, so he's at least not being an utter temperature-flaunting jerk. He's also leaning back in his chair, with his eyes closed, because… zzzz…. he's thinking, okay, he's … sleep-thinking. It's like sleep-walking, and it's very much still related to the rash of sickness going through Xanadu, but… it's more of a second-order effect. Also, it's not very good sleep, which is why a questionable exhale is enough for him to, "…mhrblfrr?" He's awake, and making a questioning noise as he blink-blinks over at Risali. Huhwha?

Risali, from beneath her hidey-haven of papers, says nothing. She hears that questionable exhale (maybe; it's hard to tell because she's not moving and not reacting), but she needs just a moment to… pull them away from her eyes apparently. Grey eyes roll towards D'lei, settle as her lips pull inwards, starting the difficult task of deciding what words she wants to say in order to tell him what those papers (that she emphatically shakes at him, just a little) hold within. "One of the holders," she starts off, slowly. And now she's shifting to sit upright, pushing herself out of her chair as she moves across the office with agitation in her gait and a contradictive concern set along her brow. "Sent his son here for search." Upon onto D'lei's desk she goes, because isn't this how she always holds meetings with him? She just MAKES ROOM, like a CAT, and then she fits, and sits, and shoves feet into laps because if Dash doesn't wanna make room, she's gonna MAKE HIM MAKE ROOM. Or she will just put besocked feet on his arms; either way, he's got a desk-full of Risa. "And his son got sick." A heartbeat, as Risali pauses to let that sink in, the jostles those papers back in front of her own face. She clears her throat, and reads, "'In effect, the negligence of Xanadu Weyr to take proper precaution and quarantine its subjects resulted in the affliction of my son. Further, a lack of diligence on part of Xanadu Weyr left my son unattended long enough to suffer a fall during an episode of somnambulance and caused him grievous injury.'" A beat, an amalgamation of one too many emotions that ends on simply frustrated as Risa again looks up from those papers. "Grievous, D'lei. Grievous my ass. And he's asking for reparations." Maybe the armor will do her some good then, 'cause SHE CLEARLY 'BOUT TO GO FIGHT THIS GUY.

D'lei is assuredly not going to rush Risali. Not that he usually does, admittedly, but this particular time he's less waiting for her and more just bringing his brain into something that passes for alert and awake and ready to deal with this…. this…. this holder, and his brows arch a bit to acknowledge that fact…. and that it is, as it were, mere setup to THAT ISSUE. His gaze glances away from her as she approaches, because he knows what's coming next and so move aside, papers that he was allegedly working on before this impromptu nap, and make room for a Risa to fit… because SHE GONNA SIT. Which she does, and D'lei nods to her as he tucks his arms in around her legs… then grimaces, faintly. SICK CANDIDATES have definitely not been fun, buuuuut… that grimace deepens, joined by first a furrow, then an arch of brows, then… a sigh, as he leans back against the chair and thunks his head before… a crooked smile. "No, his ass. From the fall." Because D'lei just had to go there, but he follows it with another sigh, his hands starting to move in a slow rub along the back of Risa's calves. "Which one is he?"

IS THAT A FLICKER OF HUMOR? It is, though Risa's eyes say, 'BAD JOKE, DASH,' even if her lips stay sealed. "That's just it. He doesn't say. He didn't sign a name, just Hannista Hold. He said that he'd send somebody in time to negotiate — and he said that his son's name is…" A pause, as Risali brings those papers back and checks line after line with quick movements of the eyes and - "Eirimeide. Eirimeide? That name isn't familiar, Dash." PHANTOM CANDIDATE. At least… so far. "He - she? - also said that Rubicon will be sending a complaint soon, as some of their children have suffered in the wake of our carelessness." Yep, Risali's brows rise towards her hairline with incredulousness as those eyes slowly come away from the paper again to focus on the Weyrleader. "If that's true, what if all of the holds are going to come after us for something. And - wait." WAS THIS PAPER IMPORTANT, DASH? I looks blank, so Risali grabs it, grabs a writing utensil and leans over it as she writes a letter and — POP — ties it off to Potato as the preening gold appears from between. "Take this to G'thar." And there she goes again, back AND AWAY. "I asked Leirith to check with the other dragons," and maybe that's why she was so quiet, "But I wonder if Meion could help us somehow, to maybe pull records faster or…" an exhale. "Maybe I should find an assistant, but I have a feeling this isn't the last letter we're going to see to this effect." Because WHY WOULD IT BE?

D'lei frowns, his head tilting down just a bit as he attempts to think… then gives his head a shake. "Not one I know, either." Which doesn't necessarily mean much, because there are a lot of candidates this time around. (Blame Leirith for that!) The corner of his mouth works up just a bit, as Risali writes her note. "They should thank Faranth they're not living during a Pass." Back when dragonriding meant even odds of threadburn scarring and death! But no, this is the modern era, where people expect all the glory and none of the risk. D'lei tilts his head, turning it to look at the map of the region put on the wall. All those holds, and every one of them… a potential complainant, because… "We really did search at all of them, didn't we?" LEIRITH. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. D'lei sighs, then tilts his head back to Risali. "Mm. She's got her disease tracking running… maybe she has some of the right medical records. Or remembers where to find them." They can hope! And ask. And… "You could get Rhodelia to do it," he says, and half-smiles. "She takes decent notes. And she works in a bar, she's not going to be scared of some mean words." Drunks who think they should get another round say far worse things on a regular basis! If rather more slurrishly. "Leave us to focus on what to actually do about them. After, y'know, figuring out how to cure this whole thing." Besides TIME, HEALER OF ALL (BUT NOT FAST ENOUGH).

That huff of laughter that Risali laughs with is more agreement and exasperation than it is humor, a shake of her head that has her looking back down at that piece of paper in her hands and… setting it off to the side, as if getting it out of her purview will remove it from her mind. "They should thank Faranth for a lot of things," comes hushed, a veiled threat that… has no real heat behind it. "But we did. Because Leirith and Garouth decided that we needed FIFTEEN EGGS." YEP, that GLARE TOWARDS THE WINDOW is TOTALLY FOR YOU TWO BUTTHOLES. And then she's shaking her head again, flicking grey eyes back to D'lei for mention of Meion and her computing skills. "I'm sure the healers have them, but it'd probably be a lot quicker to have somebody looking through more than just the physical records." Meaning… yeah. Hopefully Meion does have a much quicker resolution to their problem. But the mention of Rhodelia does have Risali raising one brow, her lips pulling inward as if she's about to form a word and then, with just a touch of disbelief, "The… barmaid? That Rhodelia?" Is she staring at you, D'lei? SHE IS STARING AT YOU, D'LEI. And while he confirms that, indeed, she means, that Rhodelia, Risali's mouth moves, and then closes, and then pulls in a line as her brows furrow and she… drops her head back into her hands. It's not a no, but clearly the Weyrwoman ISN'T TOO SURE ABOUT THAT SUGGESTION. "I'm asking G'thar to have the AWLM's re-take a headcount and tell us who came in and who is missing, and to keep a close eye on any 'injuries'. What else am I missing, Dash?"

"Too bad they've got Leirith instead." Of Faranth, that is; not some ancient thread-fighting queen to be praised or blamed for all the woes of the world, but… a very real, very bright, very fifteen eggs sort of queen who SITS RIGHT HERE entirely regardless of whether she actually fits. D'lei nods to Risali, and half-smiles. "Besides. Asking Meion saves us from walking into the infirmary and getting conscripted." Because - despite UPSET HANNISTAN CLAIMS OF NEGLECT - Xanadu certainly is throwing every vaguely-able body toward dealing with this mess. Which, really, is the insult on top of the injury. Which the Hannista scion allegedly had, grievously, while here at the Weyr. There's a sideways quirk of his mouth for her disbelief about Rhodelia, and… yeah, it's not like D'lei has a strong argument to justify it. She is, well… a barmaid. And all he's really got is, "She helped out when I asked her." A shrug. "More than I can say of some goldriders." …okay, that's not entirely fair, Nessalyn does do… whatever Tineangrath insists upon. This is still rather less than might, ideally, be hoped for. Anyhow. D'lei tilts his head forward to kiss at the top of Risali's as she leans into her hands, then settles back. "I want to talk to Healer Hall. I bet there's a precedent for what actually counts as negligence during a medical situation… and having formal documentation for it won't convince them, but it will help shut them up."

"Lucky for us," Risali echoes that half-smile, because… well. Because she's a double-edged sword, isn't she? Sweet Leirith; loud, boisterous, but well intentioned Leirith. "It does," about Meion and… a half laugh for Rhodelia. "Half the weyrbrats would help if we asked them, Dash. That doesn't mean they're qualified." But… Risali seems to come up short on her own answer, as brows knit inwards, and her eyes jump to the left, and she takes that kiss while staring out of the window through her fingers because… "… I guess I've heard that my whole life, haven't I?" Meaning… Risali should know better. So she shifts instead, to drop hands and lean forward, to catch D'lei's face between her hands and sweep her fingers along his jaw as she studies the movement - studies him. "Okay," comes softly, around a muted smile that might hold just a touch of self-deprecation for previously issued comments (her own, that is). "I'll ask her." Because the worst thing that Rhodelia can do is… do nothing. Or, well… make it more chaotic, but these days Xanadu seems to thrive on chaos. Annnd, speaking of Nessalyn. "Tine is going to rise." Yeah. RIP XANADU WEYR. "Leirith says she's starting to glow." Which is not exactly important in so much as it is — because Leirith and Garouth's eggs are still on the sands, and if another batch of eggs comes… do they search more candidates and bring them to the infected weyr? Do they risk potential tension or facetious lies angled to gain footing from outside parties when Tine clutches? She doesn't voice those concerns. Instead, Risali closes her eyes and - "We should probably talk to the Harpers, too." To at least get an idea of what, exactly, it is that they're up against.

The most Leirith of Leiriths that ever did Leirith! (Though if there are any other Leiriths, D'lei certainly has not heard of them, and you'd think it'd be hard for a dragon like that to remain hidden.) As for Rhodelia… a wry tug of D'lei's mouth. "So ask someone else." Or, well… don't. Because what are qualifications, anyhow? Just a thing imposed by people who think - for whatever reason - that they're the ones qualified to qualify people! Which is rather recursive, when you get right down to it, and means… well. Something, or else nothing. Risali's fingers find that quirk around his mouth, the wry expression of it that… doesn't always have reasons, or at least not coherent ones, and doesn't need to have his way, but… well. He says things, because if there's a thing Dash is not terribly good at, it's shutting up. But - good at it or not - he nods slightly but makes no other comment about Risali's tread backwards over her own words, acknowledging it but… not really leaning in on it. That's her choice, to do or not or … whatever else. With whatever impact it may have on the chaos level… which may not even be enough to notice, let's be honest. That news about Tineangrath gets a rises of D'lei's brows, an arch of 'really?' and then a tilt of his head back and an exhale. His mouth works, a couple times, with things that he doesn't say, and then… "Right." Fact: NOTED. He's… not going to say anything else, at least partly on the grounds that it might incriminate him, and they've apparently got enough of that going around. "….at least the Halls are near each other," he says of the Harper idea, then grimaces. "I wonder if K'ren put them up to this. It seems like it'd fit her philosophy." An exhale, and then a shake of his headand a grim not-smile. "We'll figure it out. Somehow."

"Don't do that," Risa whispers, maybe even HOOKING A FINGER IN THE CORNER OF WRY SMILES to tug them sideways and turn the effect into a caricature of what it once was. "I have enough people disappointed in me." And… there's a hint of humor, a hint of honesty, a hint of something that has Risali, eventually, looking away. There's another hint of a smile for the acknowledgement of Nessalyn's impending state of being and… a nod. "Yeah. I wasn't exactly the best version of myself when I was at the hall, so let's hope that there has been enough time for the law Harpers I brushed shoulders with to forgive me." But curiosity tilts Risali's head at the mention of an unfamiliar name, grey hues shifting back to D'lei through the corners of her eyes as her brow raises. "K'ren?" That's the problem with being so caught up in the happenings of the weyr and your own sick children: you slip out of the loop. Still… Risali takes a moment to study Dash and then… looks away again. "I hope so. Otherwise all of the holds are going to mysteriously burn down overnight." SHE IS KIDDING. Probably.

D'lei does smile, with his mouth tugged to it, but there's an earnest depth beneath it - a little muted, a little sad, yet there's still a warmth beneath all that, one that remains despite the fact that he's tired and worried because of sick people (and, now, accusations that he isn't doing all he should about them). But… he doesn't say anything to answer that, just the quiet smile and a soft motion of his fingers to brush against her legs in his lap, and… so it is. "Maybe I should go to the Hall instead," he says of that, with a touch of humor buuuut also of serious. "Just to make sure they don't decide they want to represent Hannista in all of this." IS HE DISSING PAST RISALI? …. okay maybe, but she kinda deserves it. Just as much as all those law harpers she offended CLEARLY DESERVED whatever terrible things she did to them in times past. And… speaking of the occasionally prickly… "K'ren is a delivery rider from Ierne. First time I met her, she drunkenly told me about the global economy. Second time, she called me a sparklybutt and stormed off because I dared to suggest she either wait for someone suitable, or bring in her delivery so I could see to it." A crooked smile, then… right. Connection: made. "The one who shouted in the infirmary." Risali was there, after all, and heard the shout - if not what followed. "Her." SUCH A CHARMER, RITE? D'lei grimace-smiles. "Maybe we should just burn everything. For diligence."

"I don't know what that look means," Risali whispers - but not in a manner that bespeaks a desire for clarification. Instead she traces those familiar paths her fingers always seem to take, and then she smiles - then laughs. Because OF COURSE D'LEI IS DISSING PAST RISA. And Current Risa still has proper amounts of Past Risa woven into all of that Risa, which is probably why she's leaning forward just enough to PUNCH HIS ARM (gently) and then dropping her hands to the ones at her legs, to brush her fingers against his, to glide over them and tug feather-light in a way not meant to dislodge the contact, but to feel him while he touches her. "Are you saying I don't have any charm, weyrleader? I could always just… have Leirith interrupt every mock trial until they give up." Because THAT wouldn't go HORRIBLY WRONG or anything. But, at least there's mischief in that sideways pull of her lips, a clear indication that she's joking. The way she arches her brow and listens to stories about K'ren, however… is not quite so joking. "Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who finds your ass horribly distracting." Okay, so maybe she is joking, but only because this is Risali and… well… this is how she operates when she's not running away. "Ah," she whispers, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as if she might conjure back the face of the yeller. "Well, you are the Weyrleader, D'lei. I believe that means that you're always available." A beat. "Also that you have command over the wings that have all the firestone." THAT EXPRESSION. That's a playfully colluding one, the kind that says, 'I WON'T TELL IF YOU WON'T TELL,' around a slow, wicked smile. And then a sigh. "Maybe you should go home and get a little bit of rest. I sent the kids to Dad, and Cita is…" Well. A healer. More than capable of tending them, which makes it easier, "… probably going to show up here with a sedative if she finds us asleep at our desks." Because have you met Cita?

Does D'lei even know? If he does, he doesn't answer, just splaying his fingers a bit amid that caress and smile. As for Risali's ability to charm… "You're more the impassioned sort." A crooked grin, and a lean in to brush his lips to the corner of hers because HE LIKES IT. The same cannot exactly be said for everything he's discussing, but hey. Maybe a certain barefoot brownrider just had a bad day and wasn't her best self. "I thought it just meant I was the one who walked in front," he says of his Weyrleaderyness. "So everyone else could stare at my ass." IMPORTANT PUBLIC DUTY. But, despite all the other duties they may have… they aren't going to get any of them done falling asleep here, and D'lei … struggles mightily to not yawn as his hindbrain hears about the possibility of sleep. Which he manages, but it's obvious in his face even so. "…let's go." SLEEP CALLS. "If the world wants to end… it can do it without us for a bit." BAI WORLD. IT WAS REAL.

"There's nothing wrong with passion," Risa intones - not that he implied there was. She meets his grin with her own smile, meets that press of lips to the corner of her mouth with eyes closed halfway to the meeting and her hands reaching out to catch in his hair, to curl, and twist, and pull in a bid to prevent his escape. "Mmm," she murmurs, pressing her lips to his instead of settling for more demure displays of affection. "It's a nice ass, Dash." And… they are both tired. It's probably why Risa presses her forehead to D'lei's and holds there for a moment, as if warring with two very different halves of herself: one half that says go, sleep. "… Yeah," she whispers into that breath of space she's left him, and then she… lets go. She drops her hands from hair to desk, pulls her feet from D'lei's lap and moves to stand. Once she's on her feet, she leans down to steal another kiss. And then another, for good measure. Then she's angling for her boots to ADD ONE MORE LAYER, because besocked feet are not the best protection against snow. Regardless, the Weyrwoman sees the Weyrleader home. She sees him to bed, even, and somehow manages to resist the pull of body heat and shared blankets to, eventually, sneak out of bed and return back to their office. D'lei has done enough. Now it's Risali's turn.

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