Important (Nessalyn Is Searched!)

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.

Did Risali really summon Nessalyn to her office all official like? There was one gorgeous gold flit that persisted in delivering letters with VICIOUS ATTACKS TO FINGERS and then VICIOUS DIVEBOMBS until an acceptable level of food was procured to send her back on her way. That left Nessalyn with a note in looping scrawl (BET YOU THOUGHT HER HANDWRITING WOULD BE MORE CHAOTIC, DIDN'T YOU? Jk you probably never thought about it and neither did I until this very moment) simply asking for Nessalyn to come to the office of Xanadu's leaders. D'lei's desk is empty - for now. The Weyrleader is likely out tending to wing business, or tucked away in a meeting, or doing any manner of things that Risali has opted out of until those nasty splotches of bruising on her face calm into something less terrible, but she has her crutch settled against her desk, her foot propped up on what looks suspiciously like D'lei's chair, and she's reclining as much as she can, balancing her writing utensil on the bridge of her nose while she holds a paper up over her head and reads it. Ladies and gentlemen: your Weyrwoman. THERE IS SO MUCH GRACE INHERENT IN THIS ONE. BASK, AND BE AMAZED.

It's true that Nessalyn considered smothering Risali's firelizard, but only for a fleeting moment as the creature tried to murder her. She even considered shoving it into a closet, before remembering how useless that would be. ACCURSED BEASTS. Needless to say, it took much longer than it should have to get Nessalyn to cave and just give the poor creature what she wanted in the first place. She's not entirely sure of the reason for her summoning - it could be the fork-flinging, or the fact that she was trying to break into the locked rooms in the stores, or any number of other things she wasn't supposed to do. She's still on one crutch (twinsies!!) as she makes her way into the office, foregoing any knocking because she was summoned. "Well, you don't look like you're waiting for me to get here so you can yell at me about something," she comments as she eyes She Of Such Grace across the office. "Your miniature gold monster tried to kill me."

Risali looks up from that piece of paper without looking surprised to hear somebody walking through the door - probably because half her life has become men and women walking in unannounced with grievances (and probably about her dragon, or her other gold monstrocity) - and it takes her a moment to do more than blink and track Ness' progress in. Slowly the weyrwoman shifts to bring her feet down to the floor, to turn proper in her seat and catch her pen between fingers as it rolls and threatens to hit the desk. "Did you do something I need to yell at you about?" Risali asks suspiciously, grey eyes narrowing before she HOLDS UP A HAND, and then brings fingers to the bridge of her nose for a very tender pinching because she's still bruised up, y'all. "Don't answer that. If nobody else is in my office complaining about it, then I really don't want to know." But there's humor there, a tug at the corner of her lips when she drops her hands that hurts just enough to turn it into somewhat of a grimace even if the transition is on the subtler side. "Actually, I just wanted to check on you." By attempting to murder you again and YES SHE DID ABUSE HER AUTHORITY TO DO IT. "And to ask you what you think about this request for enough paint to turn a brown bronze in the hopes of overthrowing D'lei as Weyrleader." D'MERIAL, Y'ALL. DISPLEASED WITH THE DENIAL OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT REQUESTS OUT THE WAHOO.

"I did tell Sylvarin to trick some children, but I don't think he actually did it." And she's deeply disappointed in her Stud Bagel for it. Otherwise, Risali's suspicion is merely met with a shrug. "D'lei already lectured me, you're in the clear." Nessalyn has definitely done other things that deserve a lecture since D'lei last saw her, but if Risali doesn't want to hear it, Ness is perfectly happy to kee her mouth shut. She limp-hobbles her way over to a chair, flopping down into a seat across the desk from the goldrider. On any other day she'd likely stand, but leaning on a crutch is the worst, so down into a seat she goes. "What no one saw can't hurt them." Now she's just teasing, the faint smile upon her lips tempered by her own injuries. "I'm fine." That's flat, dismissive. She doesn't want to talk about it, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. The request does cause her to lean forward, interested. "I say you should absolutely approve that request. Maybe get him a little extra that someone can dump over the head of whichever idiot made that request in the first place."

Risali's mouth parts, brows knit inward in confusion, and it's clear that she's trying to form words when information passes - but then Risali's face goes lax, momentarily bereft of emotion, offering only a soft, "Ah," instead of the question she was about to ask, as if something just made sense in her head. But it probably didn't; Risali just isn't the type to press and so she doesn't ask; if D'lei handled it then Risali DEFINITELY DOESN'T HAVE TO. "Well I hope it was worth it." Because hey, some spots of trouble are worth the repercussions, but it's unimportant. So Risali gives Nessalyn a LOOK for that comment that answers the techcrafter's mischief with her own, a soft huff of laughter that Risali releases on an exhale as she puts that paper down on her desk. "Well, now you can't give an opinion because your judgement is clearly compromised." About D'lei, she means. "Though I was thinking about getting some paint and just painting him." A beat, a shake of her head. "No, no. He'd like that too much." A sigh, a ROLL OF HER EYES, and Risa's attention is focused right back on Nessalyn again. TAKE HER DISCONCERTING STARE AND LIKE IT. Or maybe Risali is just trying to think of words and doing what she does best: FAILING MISERABLY. "Did you see the eggs?" Abrupt change there, but SHHH.

Nessalyn offers only a noncommittal shrug when it comes to whether or not it was 'worth it'. It wasn't much of a lecture in the grand scheme of things, but throwing a fork at someone wasn't even worth that much. NO ONE GOT INJURED SO IT WASN'T ANY FUN. But Risali doesn't need to know any of this, not because she expects the Weyrwoman will lecture her further, but because Ness considers it so negligible. "Look, you have to give idiots the opportunity to prove what fools they are. That way, you can shove it in their face next time." After his dragon is painted bronze, they can all point and laugh. "That's why you just throw it on him, so he can't enjoy it." There are probably some people out there who'd still appreciate it, BUT WE DON'T NEED TO TALK ABOUT THEM. Nessalyn is clearly still musing on the concept of dousing someone in paint as Risali stares at her, her gaze mostly focused on the goldrider but still slightly distant. "What?" She betrays her own distraction in the moment it takes her brain to catch up to the words spoken. "Yeah, I saw them."

There's a scrunch of Risali's nose, a tell of her humor as she wrestles with the beginnings of a smile and shakes her head. "We've tried." YEAH, NESS. He is totally one of those who likes it. "This man writes us some unreasonable request every single day. From assless leathers to this," a finger comes down on that piece of paper, "there is absolutely no shame in him." But she won't go into the THINGS THAT MAKE D'MERIAL D'MERIAL. Nessalyn will probably run into him around the weyr someday/, and she will understand. And then she will regret it. BACK TO THE EGGS THOUGH. Risali raises a brow and //waits, and when nothing is forthcoming, she prompts with, "Well, go on." WHAT DID YOU THINK. "Make you think any harder about letting Kaellian poke you with his sword?" Rudest, it's Risa.

"You should just give him everything he asks for, honestly. I don't think he'll enjoy it nearly as much as he thinks he will. He's probably getting a kick out of being denied." Nessalyn could be genuinely trying to help with this suggestion… but of course, it's equally possible that she's just hoping to incite chaos. Or catch someone wandering the Weyr in assless leathers. Nessalyn passes her crutch from hand to hand, letting it tip from side to side as she keeps alternating hands. She watches Risali through the gap in those crutches, eyeing the woman with a faint frown when she seems to want something more than 'I saw them' as an answer. "They were eggs?" DID YOU WANT COMPLIMENTS, RISALI? BECAUSE WE DON'T DO THOSE. "Kind of dark." A shrug suggests that this isn't a bad thing as much as an observation, because Ness has perfected the art of seeming to have zero opinion at all. "Wait, why would it make me think about that?"

NO, NESS. That's what Risali's look says anyway, as she leans a little further over her desk to adopt a stage whisper. "He wants to have an orgy. In the Weyrbowl. We don't even have a Weyrbowl, Ness." DO YOU SEE? ABSOLUTELY UNREASONABLE. "And he doesn't want assless leathers for him, he wants them for everybody." Like a mandatory sexy-time party suit so you're READY TO GO when you're READY TO GO. But back to eggs and not the acts that make them (D'MERIAL), because the eggs are more important and so are those answers. Grey eyes are focus on Nessalyn while she gives her NOT-COMPLIMENTS and then drop to her hands as she exhales another laughter. "Because they're the product of reproduction, Nessa. Keep up." WHICH IS PLAYFUL, but also about the sexy-time acts and not actually about the eggs. Or both? Yeah. We'll go with both. STILL NOT THE POINT. A beat, two, three, four, Risali drumming her fingers awkwardly on the table and then - "Where do you see your life ending up? I mean, at the end of the day, when you're old and grey and you can't move because every joint hurts and the healers are trying to mend all those unexpected ailments that come with age. What is your big accomplishment?"

Nessalyn's features distort in disgust - at least as much as they can amidst healing wounds. "Why don't you build him his own special bowl? You know, where he can have orgies and stay locked away forever." So less a bowl, and more a jail cell. BASICALLY THE SAME THING. Either way, this new information seems enough for Nessalyn to let go of her previous strategy of granting all of his wishes. "I'm not wearing assless anything, for a multitude of reasons." She shudders at the thought. THINK OF ALL THE PALE MOONS THAT'D BE VISIBLE AROUND XANADU. Better to forget about those and focus on other things, even if the talk of eggs and Kaellian's sword only makes her slightly more comfortable. "That's… why would I make that jump? Just because Leirith wants people to give birth to eggs, doesn't mean the rest of us think that way." It's bewilderment mixed with faint disgust, because she doesn't want to be talking about sexytimes with anyone. "I associate dragon eggs with dragons, not men trying to sleep with me." Which is probably healthy, actually. She passes that crutch from hand to hand a few more times, catching it in her left when it seems that Risali is actually asking her a serious question. She looks to the Weyrwoman in askance for a moment, a silent 'are you for real?' before she seems to decide that yes, Risali is. "I don't know. I don't really see myself old and grey, first of all." She lit herself and other things on fire, plus nearly got killed by a crazy man in the woods, and she hasn't been at Xanadu that long. There's no way she's living to old age. "I'm not really aiming for Master, since I know enough to do what I like and I'll just keep learning on my own time. So, I don't know. No big life plan here."

Nevermind D'merial, nevermind babies; Risali's answer to both of Nessalyn's answers is a flicker of smile, and a twinge of something more serious when the techcrafter answers Risali's Actually Important point. Those fingers drumming shift, come together and interdigitate as grey eyes study Nessalyn's bruised face and hold in a way that is not so normal in those everyday interactions with Risali. "Nessalyn," comes soft, tentatively slow as if Risali is trying really hard to decide what words she wants to deliver and just what impact they might have before she settles on them. "You know you are important, right?" But Risali doesn't wait for an answer, because it's a rhetorical question. "You know that you deserve so much more and are capable of so much more, right? Because if you don't, I'm telling you now. And if you never hear it again, then I hope you remember me saying it now. You can deflect me with scorn, or humor, or whatever is going to make you more comfortable in this moment because I get it." Because Risali does. SELF-DEPRECATION IS HER AWKWARD JAM WHEN PEOPLE TRYING TO PAY HER COMPLIMENTS. Or just running away altogether, but shhh. "But it seems like somebody needed to remind you that you're important. I have a feeling people don't tell you enough." Maybe because Risali is similar in disposition if vastly different - both misunderstood, both pariahs in their own ways, both fighters even if their demons are different kinds of monsters. And slowly, slowly, Risali shifts one hand back, pulls open one of those drawers and retrieves… GLASSES. And some damn good rum. She sets them on the table between them, and then places a knot beside those - pristine and white, innocuous except for those implications that come with it. "Maybe you don't have a clear direction because you were meant for better things - which is not to imply that what you're doing isn't important, but maybe not necessarily where you need to be." And now Risali is dropping her gaze, focusing on pouring drinks and pushing one glass closer to Ness as she retrieves the other. WHAT? SOME DAYS MAMA NEEDS HER JUICE, OKAY. But she doesn't drink it, she holds it up in silent question, won't drink until Nessalyn takes that knot because that is what this is about: Toasting the unknown, and the courage to face it.

That soft, slow voice immediately puts Nessalyn on edge, although what she expects to hear, she's not sure. She just knows it can't portend anything good. Brows draw together against the protest of bruised skin, this talk of her importance immediately drawing a frown to her lips. She all but flinches away from the idea. Her crutch suddenly seems much more interesting, one fingernail digging into a bit of rough wood, attempting to break off splinters rather than listen too closely to what Risali has to say. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but she doesn't say anything. If it means anything to her, if those words manage to get through that hard head of hers and make any difference, she doesn't show it. She keeps her head tilted just enough to avoid direct eye contact while still giving herself room to claim that she's not hiding. Because she's not - she's simply evading with precision. "Yeah, okay," she mutters finally, her only acknowledgement that Risali has said anything to her, the words offered with some hint of that expected scorn. Frankly, she'd prefer that running away altogether route, but it's difficult to run on crutches and she doesn't fancy injuring herself again while trying to escape this awkward situation, so she forces herself to stay put. Blue eyes focus in on that flash of white when it enters her peripheral vision, and she seems almost… relieved? Yes, that's relief coloring her features, smoothing away some of the tension building there. She reaches out for it, running a finger briefly over the pristine knot, before tugging it a bit closer to herself. "I was thinking about asking you for one of these," she admits. Her reasons for wanting that knot may not be the best, but since she doesn't seem inclined to share them, NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW. With a little nod, she takes it, gripping it tightly as she balances her crutch to reach with her other hand for the drink. This she definitely needs. She clinks her glass against Risali's before downing it quickly. While she's doing her best to school her features into that usual 'idgaf' mask, it's a thin veneer over the tumult beneath.

But Risali doesn't demand more because let's face it. Risali herself fumbles over the implications of compliments and well-meaning words - she struggles with them more than she struggles to grapple with insults, so there's no offense taken to that scorn or that borderline dismissive answer. Risali just half-smiles in a way that says maybe she expected that and harbors no humor to soften the expression. But then it doesn't matter, because admittances are met with a raised brow, but questions are silenced by the meeting of glasses and that lapse as Risali downs hers as well. It's only after she's tucked that rum back into her desk that she's clearing her throat. "Our rules here are a little less traditional than other weyrs, Nessalyn. Sex is not forbidden, but pregnancy is, and we ask you to be discreet in your activities. You're still not allowed to have a man or a woman curled up in the barracks with you. You can still drink, but only so long as it doesn't become something that hinders your ability to function." A beat, and then softer, "And no fighting. No doing anything that gets the attention of the guards, because then whatever your intention was for that knot," Risali's fingers point towards it, "we will revoke it. And then Leirith might sit on you just to reiterate her disappointment." But then just like that, Risali is drawing papers back to herself, retrieving her writing utensil in a move that might be dismissive, but is probably SAVING THEM BOTH from that horrible awkward that comes after those PESKILY ODD, SOMEWHAT EMOTIONAL THINGS. "There's a guard outside who can help you if you need help finding the barracks, but they're over by the arena." A beat, and then one last flicker of grey eyes up, as Risali offers a soft, but honest, "And good luck, Nessalyn." But then she's back to her paperwork, giving Ness ALL THE FREEDOM to do ALL THE BAD THINGS while she tells D'merial NO. FOR THE EIGHT HUNDREDTH TIME.

There are a few little splinters of wood on Risali's floor now, evidence of Nessalyn's slow destruction of her crutch, which she returns to when her glass is drained. She hisses suddenly as one of those spliters goes too deep beneath her nail, and promptly sticks her finger in her mouth. It's with this winning look that she turns her attention back to the Weyrwoman, now that it seems all emotional things have passed. "Got it," she replies, with a little eyeroll for the mention of sex and pregnancy. NOT A PROBLEM, RISALI. No fighting or getting into trouble with the guards has her pursing her lips for a moment, because impulse control is not her thing, but she does know the drill. She has lived under stricter rules in the past, after all, so it can't be entirely impossible. (Gossips are already betting that she'll last a seven or two at best.) "If I'm going to get thrown out, I'll make sure it's for lighting something on fire, so Leirith forgives me." A brief flash of something that's almost a smile, before Nessalyn takes the shuffling of papers as her cue to exit. She's already working on re-situating that crutch under her arm when Risali speaks again. "Thanks." It's gruff and clipped, but there's more feeling behind that single word than a mere 'good luck' deserves. AND THAT'S AS MUCH EMOTIONAL NONSENSE AS RISALI IS GOING TO GET. Nessalyn is going to make a quick escape, pausing only to suggest, "I do think you should give him the paint, and then schedule a public shaming. It's good for morale." Wisdom imparted, Ness slips out the door, HOPEFULLY NEVER TO SPEAK OF THIS DAY AGAIN.

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