The day after the barracks incident, Lanti interviews Bajiren

Logfile for Lanti on Harper's Tale
Started at 2009-11-13 11:11:19 -0400

MOO Time: 2009-11-13 07:11:20
And on Pern …
The time is 05:11.
It is sunrise of the eighth day of summer.
It is the fourteenth Turn of the Tenth Interval.
It is a summer before dawn. The early morning hours are calm, and only a faint breeze stirs the air. The air feels cool, still, after the passage of the storm, and the scent of rain lingers.

Note: Since this is ICly the day after, the IC date is the fifth day of summer, not the eighth.

Council Room
The Weyr's council chambers balance the necessity of a show of power with the austerity of good-taste and few resources. A vast, stone table rings most of the chamber, its slate-grey tableau polished to a subtle sheen and surrounded by straight-backed, black-padded seats; the centre of the table is a wyverthian tangle of dragons in a mosaic of ceramic, shell, and stone. Obsidian darkens the inner circle, the ebony glass surrounded by a thin ring of orange that splinters outwards into the flight of dragons like Rukbat's seering fingers.
Sisal banners of black and orange flutter along the walls of this windowless room, broken only by Thread-maps that are tacked to wall and table or neatly rolled up onto some of the many ledges.

The beginnings of the young man are starting to break through the appearance of the boy; now standing easily at 5'6, Bajiren is also starting to fill out a bit in the shoulders and arms. Though with a bit more muscle mass, he's still lanky by any measure, and his feet still seem clownish compared to the rest of him. Jaw is a bit more defined, though the freckles along his cheeks haven't disappeared with age - and now they have, more often than not, a pimple here and there to keep them company. Eyebrows remain a golden colour, though the tufts of hair on his chin that he likes to call a beard are a darker orange, to match his slightly unkempt, feathery, short hair.
A loose pair of cargo pants, a bit long for him, and wearing at the cuffs that drag below his heels, are cinched tight with a belt to keep from falling off his near non-existant hips. On tap Bajiren has a simple, short-sleeved off-white tunic, which actually fits rather well over his shoulders and chest. Both shirt and pants bear the markings of dirt, kitchen grease, and a few less mentionable things, that go with the daily life of a candidate.
He is a teenager of about 14. He is awake, but seems rather distracted.

As the Turns have passed, time has chiseled away most of the softness from Lanti's body, leaving behind angles lean and stark, though not altogether harsh. She is a shade taller than average, but her skinny frame serves to make her look just a bit taller than she really is. Lanti sports the same red-gold hair of her mother, its waves just brushing her shoulders. From her father she has inherited eyes of a clear sky blue with darker flecks of navy, and her pale lips form a generous mouth. The rigors and demands of her profession have given Lanti a muted but harder edge, only strengthened by her intensity.
Dressed for some serious riding, Lanti's outfit is made of leather, and little else. At least, not that the casual observer could see. Her boots and wide riding belt are heavy black leather, against which the metal rings and clips shine like silver. Her trousers and jacket are also leather, dark brown and trimmed in glossy, thick cording of Istan orange. On the back of her jacket, the symbol of Ista Weyr has been embroidered in sleek black and orange thread. If headed Between or colder altitudes, Lanti usually wears a white scarf that peeks from behind the collar of the jacket, and her leather riding helmet with goggles.
Lanti wears the knot of an Istan junior weyrwoman, with brilliant gold thread winding its way between the cords.
She is an adult of about 33. She is awake and looks alert.

By the look of things, Lanti is just about done with these one-on-one's, in many ways. She's hunched over a notepad, still writing notes from the last interview. Used plates and mugs litter the far end of the table, but at the near end there is still a klah carafe and a half-full pitcher of juice that still has a few beads of condensation on the sides. The breakfast pastries and things are pretty well picked over, but Lanti calls over a help yourself with a vague wave at the food without looking up just yet. By the sound of things, they'd better be just about done with these things. Maybe a dawn start wasn't the best idea. Or maybe they should have started earlier. Or maybe Lanti's running on less sleep than usual.

Bajiren has on his innocent face. The candidate walks in with his hands held behind his back, his head tilted a bit to the side, eyebrows up just a little and eyes wide, so as to make himself look altogether sympathetic. "Thanks," is said as he steps up to the table, waiting a moment to grab one of those pastries. Just long enough to say, "Y'look sleepy. Tryin' t'figure out who wrecked up th'barracks all night?" One of the many wounded parties now grabs the pastry, tears a bit off of it. "Man, I only had one breakable thing, an' even /that/ managed t'get knocked over. An' it was all stored safe an' everythin'." See? Wounded party.

Because that look is so believable, right? Right. Lanti looks up in time to see Bajiren's "innocent face", but her only reaction is to lean back in her chair and wait. "Among other things," she answers his first question, her voice a dry drawl. "You failed to mention Gil's love of thunder." Luckily for Bajiren, that seems to want to tug her lips into a crooked smile, but she soon wipes her expression clean again. "I heard a funny rumor this morning, Bajiren."

Well at least the grin that the mention of Gil and thunder brings to Baji's face is sincere. "Ohhh… Was he lickin' your feet all night?" He shakes his head. "S'what he'd try'n do t'me, used t'have to wrap my feet in the blanket real tight, just so he couldn't get at 'em." The boy, for his part, maintains bits of that amusement, even once the goldrider's gone serious. "Oh yeah? Someone's pants fall down in th'caverns at breakfast or somethin'?"

Lanti shifts in her chair, then sighs. "I made the mistake of letting him sleep at the foot of the bed, thinking it was big enough." She shoots Bajiren a look that clearly says that assumption was erroneous. She glances at her mug, at an empty plate beside her, then at her notebook, which she's been keeping carefully tilted toward herself. No sneak previews. "It seems one of our candidates woke up to a face full of nasty," she announces, dropping that steady blue-eyed stare directly on Bajiren's face. "Smelled like pretty familiar shit, Bajiren."

Bajiren returns that gaze quite evenly, though his brow furrows just enough, and his head cants just so, so that he'll look a little bit confused. "Familiar?" His head tilts to the other side. "So what, y'want me t'go undercover an' figure out who's been raidin' your, uh…" How to put it delicately…. "crapper? Gotta say, that might get in th'way of some of the classes an' stuff - but I do know most'f what people are sayin' 'bout cleanin' dragons anyway, so…" Nod. "Yeah, could pro'ly do it."

"Knock it off, Bajiren," Lanti snaps. Yeah, she's tired, and he's near the end of all the interviews going on today. "I've been feeding /and/ picking up after Gil enough to know what goes in and what comes out. You're sharding lucky I can't prove it, or you'd be back in Iqiazath's weyr within the candlemark." She sets down her notepad without breaking eye contact. "If one of your fellow candidates rats on you, you're screwed, just remember that." Of course, that could go two ways. "Now," she continues after a pause, her voice cooling slightly, "was anything of yours damaged?"

Bajiren's jaw clenches just a little at being snapped at, and the boy gives a nod. "Well s'a good thing I didn't do anythin' t'have anyone rat on, then." It's said testily, even if he maybe doesn't deserve to be testy with a junior weyrwoman. Arms cross over his test, the pastry dropping some crumbs on his shirt in the process, though he at least doesn't squish it into his elbow or anything. "Nothin' really broke, just… some sand I had from 'Reaches got spilled, is all. Got most'f it back into a container. Mostly, stuff was just all thrown 'round, near my cot, an' th'guy next t'me too." Perhaps still hurt by the accusations, he adds, "Y'can even ask him."

Lanti's expression doesn't change, but eyes twinkle slightly as if she'd like to smile, or at least grin. For a moment, anyway. "Well, you're free to go, unless you'd like to add anything for the record." She picks up the notepad again and idly taps her pen against it.

"For the record?" He bites at the inside of his cheek. "For the record, I think that holder girl's losin' her shit. She kept on talkin' 'bout raiders. Maybe she thinks they're after her. Maybe y'oughta post guards 'round her or somethin'. Betcha Ista'd be /pissed off/ if she got taken away from us. Maybe guards'd keep her outta trouble." Pause. "Or at least y'could send 'er home where it's safe." It's said with a great deal of concern in his voice, and that slight professionalism that's probably a mimicry of one of the sergeants at High Reaches. "Or where, if she does get kidnapped or somethin', it won't be our fault." Baji, always with Ista's best interests at heart.

"We could disguise her," Lanti counters, perhaps a little too amicably. "As a watchwher? No, maybe a wooly. She's still small enough, that might work." The joy of fake amusement. "Bajiren, if someone were able to kidnap her under our nose, we would deserve to be at fault. But /thank you/ for your concern. You'll just have to worry about Abriwind a little longer. I'm sure she'd love to hear how much you care." Pause. "Anything else?"

Bajiren shrugs, uncrossing his arms and tearing at another piece of pastry, which is popped into his mouth. "Guess so. Maybe I'll just keep an eye on her for ya, then. I /did/ get guard trainin' for a while there, y'know, was even guardin' the sands at 'Reaches now an' then. Some girl won't be any trouble." The next question brings a moment of reflection, and the mastication of another bit of pastry, before finally he shakes his head. "Nah, can't think of anythin'. 'Cept that I'm sorry Gil kept you up. He's more'f a pansy 'round thunder than Saji is 'round him."

"Just remember what I said," Lanti says, suddenly sounding as tired as she looks as she starts to shoo Bajiren back to the ledge. "Come on, I want to get these over with and get some real food. Sick of pastries. And Baji? Just… don't touch that girl, all right?" She stops there and rubs a finger wearily across one of her temples. "You may all be candidates, but we don't need any new trouble with the Hold. I don't care who she provokes, or how loudly. And… try to pass that along to everyone else, too."

"Don't worry, Lanti, I /always/ listen t'what you say. Want me t'tell Baedia to come see you now? Maybe send her up with a meatroll or somethin'?" See? Helpful. There's a slightly more solemn nod, and finally the boy does look a bit admonished. "I ain't gonna touch her, don't worry." The slightest hint of a grin as he adds, "I'll make sure ain't no one else who does, either. See ya, Lanti. Oh, an' I figure I can come an' get Gil after lunch, if that's okay, take him out real quick, then drop him back off with you." And he just turns from his shoo'd direction long enough to fire off a quick salute.

[End of log]

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