Western Weyr - Weyrleader's Office
This appears to be one of the spare private rooms, hastily reworked into an office space. Instead of the usual bed, clothespress, table and chairs, there's a filing cabinet, a floor lamp, and…a table and chairs. The table holds a smaller desk lamp, a personal computer with connection cables spilling down the back, a dispatch radio, plus a scattering of files, papers, and writing materials. Beside the workspace is a smaller endtable, seated upon which is a klah percolator and half a dozen mugs. None of the three chairs match each other, or the tables, but they seem to be solidly made and in good repair.
Piled up against one wall are half a dozen cartons, apparently also filled with files of some sort. The room is rather sparsely decorated, with only a scrap of faded carpet beneath the table and an embroidered wall hanging hung on the wall opposite the door, in bold copper and russet threads.
Changing times meant a lot of changing leadership. Out with the old and in with the new! New weyrleader, weyrsecond, and some new wingleaders too. At least one new one. The transport wing was languishing a bit, and needed some kick starting. Plus the wingleader had become very lax, as Zi'on had come to find out. After asking him about the missing fruit crate, he couldn't find any of the paperwork to say how the crate had even gotten to the weyr in the first place. And it turned out that more than a few of the wingriders were not filling things out correctly (accidentally or on purpose couldn't be said). So Zi'on removed the leadership and now needed someone a little more savvy in the seat. The furniture for his office is still on order, but at least he's gotten some filing cabinets and has started reducing the amount of paperwork that was laying around from a reorganization with Ila's assistance. Though right now he's sent the weyrsecond off to fetch that weird blonde trader guy.
There's some minor commotion at the door, but it's no Weyrsecond or blonde trader guy — instead, a weyrbrat trudging into the office ahead of the Weyrwoman, the two of them toting a box of folders, files and assorted paperwork with them, before the whole mess is set onto the nearest vacant surface, and the weyrbrat is sent scampering off, glad to escape the watchful eyes of the 'adults'. "Aint botherin' you, am I, Zi?" Enka asks of the bronzer, clearing off a spot for her to lean, hipshot against. "That was found in the caverns," she points at the box. "Some old papers for the Weyrleader, although, lookin' them over, you'd probably just want to dump the lot of them. They look at least fifteen turns out of date." On the other hand, throwing away things might not be a good idea, there might be something important in there.
And hunt down that weird blonde trader guy Ila'den has! He'd found the man doing whatever it is that a Rorn does do, and was even devious enough to make it seem like /he was in trouble/ for the entire duration of their journey back to the Weyrleader's office. It's probably why Ila'den looks like he's trying so hard not to laugh when he comes through the door and holds it open for S'rorn to come in behind him, keeping grey eyes decidedly focused /away/ from Zi'on for fear of bursting into laughter. He never /said/ that Rorn was in trouble, just suggested it with solemnity and his demeanor. The only time his eyes jump up is when he spots Enka, and there's a smile for the Weyrwoman as he passes off a little salute and a, "Morning, Enka."
And the Rorn does enter, as that's what Rorn's do, treading lightly as he sets foot into the office. Clearly the blond trader guy is looking rather nervous, his eyes darting to various objects in the room in his distraction while /still/ milling through the millions of possibilities. Why did he get in trouble? Did he trade something he wasn't allowed to? Was there a contract? An agreement? His papertrail have a hole? A fault? His goods not good /enough/? Not only that, but the tiny bells on his belt are jingling a little more than necessary. The brownrider clears his throat and gathers his senses as he turns to the leadership, offering his salute. "Brownrider S'rorn reporting, Ma'am. Sir."
Zi'on looks up from his desk at the commotion coming from outside the door. Zi'on is separating things out into 'trash' 'file' and 'look at later' piles. There's sigh as more papers are added to the pile. "Yeah, alright. I think you're trying to kill me with all this paper, Enka. I guess it's just as well we sort though all of it now, rather than letting things drag out. A lot of this belongs in the record room. Like this." He holds up a paper. "I don't know who Bobby Bronin the bastard brownrider is, and I don't know why he signs all this paperwork like that, but I don't need to know why he counted every redfruit he brought back with him and wrote down how many bad ones there was. I'm having a bonfire tonight, I think." Fetching riders generally wasn't a weyrsecond's duty, but there weren't any weyrbrats handy and this was important. Zi'on stands as Ila enters and offers his seat to Enka. "Ah, good. You're back. S'rorn, have a seat." He motions to the chair in front of his desk. Ila is free to sit or stand. As long as he doesn't burst out laughing during the preceding. Zi'on leans forward and props himself up on the table with his arms. "So how are things going? Everything okay at home, Qiana treating you well?" Zi'on sounds serious, though not angry. Yet?
"Wouldn't do such a thing," Enka tries her valiant best to defend herself of that accusation. "If I killed you from the massive overload of paperwork, I'd end up havin' to do it, and I couldn't foist it off on Rea or Iris cause they'd probably run away screamin'." On the other hand, the goldrider's office doesn't look nearly so cluttered, maybe it's just the change of administration on the Weyrleader's side. "You can put stuff in the records room, I hardly go in there myself, I'd bet there's a real treasure trove of junk that nobody gives a flyin' redfruit about." she does grin a bit, "And a bonfire would be nice. On the beach." with useless paperwork as the fuel. "Thank you, darlin'." the offered chair is accepted gladly enough, the goldrider taking her place with a slight inclination of her head at Ila'den as he salutes and greets her. "Mornin' Ila'den," and then she turns her attention towards the saluting brownrider, but says nothing, instead letting Zi'on take the lead.
"Back in just enough time to hear 'bonfire,'" Ila'den says around a deviant smile, and those brows arch up towards Rorn with /meaning/. Perhaps you will be a sacrifice, brownrider? When S'rorn is through the door, finished with his greetings, and asked to sit, Ila'den closes the door behind him. There's a clap to the trader's shoulder, the kind that says, 'Be strong', and then those arms cross over his chest as he stands sentry near the entrance, opting to follow Enka's lead and allow Zi'on to head the entire conversation. Hopefully the bronzerider can school himself enough to /not/ burst out laughing during the precedings, but the twitching corner of his lips seems to bode ill for all. Here's to hoping that Zi'on made the /right/ choice in his 'wingman'.
Rorn nods his head and slowly, carefully takes his seat. Though, he's cautious. All the man can do, is sit up tall and wait patiently while his Weyrleader speaks before him. The questions leave him a bit uneasy though they're harmless enough. The brownrider clears his throat once more and tilts his gaze to Zi'on, doing his best to stay calm. "Things are going rather well, Sir, as is Qiana. Our home is finally settled just fine, I'm caught up on my commissions and I've no issues within the wing that I'm aware of." His dragon is doing fine but to mention that is hardly necessary. He's constantly out there making his presense known, rather noisily at best. The clasp on the shoulder he received might as well weighed more than a ton, the heat of it feeling as though it's burning through the brownrider's skin. Bonfire… Roasting Rorn's can't be good for the morale of the weyr, or anyone's thighs for that matter. Still, the image does flicker through his mind atleast once before he blocks it out with random mental fodder. Rorn swallows hard but keeps schools his demeanor as calm as he can manage.
Zi'on laughs at Enka's denial. "I suppose that's true. You could always chain them to the office so they do the paperwork and can't run away." Really it was just Zi'on wanting to clean out the filing cabinets in his office. There was no need to keep things that were over ten turns old, unless they had some specific value. In which case they could move to the records room. Some form of OCD more than like, and this way he gets familiar with all the paperwork. Zi'on grins to Ila, then. "Yep. With a big porcine roast, all over old cruddy paperwork." Once Rorn has said his peace about how things are going, Zi'on stands up straight and claps his hands together. "As you know there have been a lot of changes around the weyr lately. New people coming into positions, old people going out. It's all a part of weyr life really, transitions to the next thing and all. I need everyone performing at their best. And we've had some thefts recently at the weyr, which is obviously of great concern for all of us at the weyr. Food is important, there are lots of mouths to feed and the cotholders around can't much spare to be giving the weyr extra crates of food and all because we can't keep track of them. Don't you agree?" Where exactly is Zi'on going with all of this? Well, some people in the room knew.
Enka chuckles softly. "I suppose I could, but that involves tryin' to catch them in the first place, and there's two of them and only one of me. At least one of 'em would get away while I was tryin' to chain the other up. And Mir'd be no help." Because the senior queen would be asleep, and wouldn't see the point in grounding a junior gold just so her rider would chain or tie their rider up. "Make a grand old party of it," Enka puts in, in regards to the specified bonfire. Steepling her fingers, the goldrider leans forwards, elbows resting against the arms of the chair as she regards S'rorn, waiting for his reply to Zi'on.
Mmm, porcine roast. As delicious and wonderful as bonfires and the foods that go with them sound, Ila'den's much more interested in watching the interaction between Zi'on and S'rorn than paying attention to the byplay- and finding a better view. This is why Ila'den finally crosses over to the desk the other three are occupying, though he makes no moves to lean in /ominously/ like the two leader's are. No, Ila'den opts for ominious looming slightly behind and off to the side of Rorn, where he can gleefully watch the brownrider's face. Hey, they might not /actually/ be getting ready to spit him over a bonfire, but they're certainly gearing up to offer him their own special brand of torture. He wouldn't miss it /for the world/.
S'rorn quirks a brow at the information being offered to him in regards to the weyr and he thinks about it carefully. The brownrider brushes his blond hair from his face with his fingers before returing his hand to the arm rest, without averting his gaze from the Weyrleader. "I've heard about the thefts through the dragons. Things going missing. Things shouldn't be going missing if someone is taking a proper inventory of all the stock we receive and make sure those numbers are accountable and recorded at every point until they get to their intended areas. I've been managing my paperwork for turns, it's not a difficult task though I admit it takes some dicipline." His voice is calm but there is a slight stern tone to his words, surely they couldn't be accusing him of this. There are bad traders out there, but he isn't a /traitor/. If you've a food ration to yourself in the caravan and you don't keep track of what you have, your sevenday ration slowly turns into a three day and hunting is near impossible during some parts of the winter. Same goes for materials for his trade. His supplies fall short, that's marks gone before he's earned them and even less means to survive out on the roads. This, Rorn would know. Ila'den moving behind him only makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end but nothing more is betraying his composure. Yet.
Zi'on laughs a bit at Enka. "Oh come on, I bet you could take them. Just knock one of them out and tie up the other one while they're knocked out." He nods about the bonfire. "Actually I was thinking of hosting a big fancy party at the lodge. Not really a bonfire roast kind of party, but with fancy clothes and cocktails." Zi'on turns to his weyrscond. "Ila'den would you mind fetching me the box out of the top drawer?" Ila knows which box. The box with the new shiney knot it. Zi'on listens to what Rorn has to say, crossing his arms with a serious look on his face. "Good. I agree. And it's mainly the wingleaders job to make sure his riders are doing what they ought to be doing. And making sure the paperwork is done properly and promptly so the weyr doesn't fall behind on things and end up starving during a long rainy season, for example. And it's my job to make sure we don't have people who are less than qualified at their jobs doing them. So I think you can understand why I'd be asking -you- all of these questions. Ila'den?" He'll let the other bronzer offer Rorn the knot. Share and share alike in the torture.
"I could, couldn't I?" Enka does lean back now, lips twisting into a wry little smile at Zi'on's words. "I'd only have to hit them hard enough that they don't know what's comin'. Although I suppose it would have to be Rea, I'd rather not take a chance on Iris havin' a fall at this point." Although the goldrider might sound serious, she really doesn't mean it. Not like she'd slug any juniors and tie them up while they're unconscious, anyway. She likes her tying victims to be well, very conscious and enthusiastic about it, ahem, cough. "Now /that/," the Weyrwoman remarks, "sounds absolutely delightful. I've heard about this lodge of yours." But there's no getting in, not even for her. Her gaze drating over towards Ila'den when the bronzerider is directed at the box, she looks back towards Rorn with a rather expectant air, something akin to baited breath.
Ila'den finally joins in on Enka and Zi's conversation, to add only, "I'm not so sure that paperwork would be all they'd be doing if you knock them out and tie them up, Enka. At least not for Iris, anyway, as far as Zi'on is concerned." Zi'on earns a wicked smile, and then Ila'den is promptly on his feet to do the Weyrleader's bidding. The bronzerider crosses around to fetch that box with its super secret contents, and he holds it with a look that just might suggest he's holding the knife they mean to do poor S'rorn in with. The weyrsecond waits for Zi to finish, and then he leans over the brownrider while opening the box simultaneously. It might even be a proposal, except that Ila'den doesn't go down on one knee, and that's a /knot/ hiding inside of that box, not a ring. There's a chuckle of laughter, though nothing that might possibly be deemed inappropriate, and Ila's clapping Rorn on the shoulder again as he murmurs, "So what do you say, S'rorn? It's better than being tossed into a bonfire, aye?"
Now, one thing is for certain, is when this man was a boy and he got into trouble, there was no beating around the bush. If he was going to have to walk over to the bushes or the nearest tree to get a switch, or to another wagon for a strap of leather, he would've been told before he had a chance to breath in and speak to whom he answers to. There's something odd about this meeting, so he doesn't jump to conclusions yet. Though, still, there's a thought in the traders head. He was raised by common men, and women. Other /traders/. There's no telling how these /riders/ do things and for all he knows, there's some rusted hacksaw in that box to take his hands. A thief can't steal without hands, right? He's no thief! S'rorn begins to rub his wrists unconsciously as he lets his gaze shift to the other bronzerider. Box? What box? What's in this box? This dangerous box? Beads of sweat slowly begin to form on the brownrider's head, cold trails already rolling down his back… And then the box is opened. His shoulders slump and he's able to finally exhale, relief washing over his face. A knot? For him? Suspiciously, he glances around the room, at openings, boxes, the other riders and he leans back, rubbing the sides of his face to encourage bloodflow back to his brain. "All of you," he begins with a light chuckle. "All of you are soon to be the death of me. Bonfire. You had me. Yes, I'll straighten things out. I don't know about my formers but I like having all my affairs in order." Shame, Ila'den down on knee proposing would've earned him a sandwich, at the very least.
Zi'on grins to Enka. "You're a scary weyrwoman, you know that. Plotting the ways to knock out your juniors after you've murdered me. Shards and shells." He's helping though, and mostly teasing. "We'll have to work out the details a little later. When things are more settled. To celebrate and all." It would be a one time thing of course, letting ladies into the lodge. Just enough to give them a taste of what they couldn't have! Zi'on grins to Ila. "Eh, I dunno if it'd be as fun with Iris tied up. I'm the one who likes to be tied up, I think." There's no knife in the box, just a knot. The wingleader's knot, for the transport wing at Western. No one's carrying around any beating sticks either. Yep, things are strange at the weyr. Well, sort of. Mostly they're just teasing S'rorn. When S'rorn reaches for the knot though, Zi'on laughs. "Sorry. We wanted to make it memorable." He moves around to pat Rorn's back in a manly congratulatory way. "If you need help we'll be around to help you get things in order. It's a lot of responsibility. If you want to name a new wingsecond you're more than welcome to, as well. Enka and her juniors deal mostly with the weyr supplies so though you'll report up through Ila'den, expect to have to deal with her as well." And a beer and a shot of saucy wench from Zi'on, had Ila proposed.
Enka's reponse to Zi'on is a wicked little teasing smirk. If he'll tease, well, she'll just tease right back. "Just livin' up to my reputation as a senior weyrwoman. Knockin' out my juniors, tryin' 'em up and killin' my Weyrleader with paperwork. It's all in a day's work." She nods a bit. "No real rush, havin' a fancy party like that, been a lot of changes lately, so things might need to settle a bit." It'd be the height of teasing, to let the womenfolk get a glimpse — a sample — and the forever deny them. There's a soft chuckle from Enka when the exchange between Zi'on and Ila'den occurs. "Can arrange that too, for you, darlin'." Is that meant for both weyrleader and weyrsecond, or just the former. Hard to say. "Felicitations, S'rorn." the goldrider addresses the new wingleader with a big smile. "Know you'll do a good job."
Ila'den chokes down laughter when Zi'on mentions being the one who likes ropes, and comments no further than, "I will have to keep that in mind, Weyrleader." Perhaps there are PRANKS in the making? The bronzerider does, however, regardless of whom she was addressing, give Enka a gregarious smile. "Iris might pay you back the favor, Enka, and then where would we be?" He and Zi'on would probably be quite happy with two goldriders wrangled, but Ila doubts the same can be said for the women. Still, sexy ladies without their full faculties is /not/ the focus of the current 'party', and so the weyrsecond leans one hip on the desk in order to congratulate S'rorn as well. "We'll only run you as ragged as you run us, and I know you'll do great. Congratulations, S'rorn." It /is/ a pity that Ila didn't make a proposal out of it… That would have been a story for the ages.
S'rorn chuckles and slowly shakes his head. "I've got my work cut out for me. Shards. Where do I begin? I have to find… all of the paperwork." With that lovely little revelation, the smile on his face slowly fades and his eyes look over at the piles existing in this room. "Then I'm going to have to reestablish how the paperwork is supposed to be done and how inventory is supposed to work proper… I'm going to need more filing cabinets." The brownrider begins to rub his face once more while he gathers what's left of his wits. The bar is definitely in order after this! "Definitely going to need a Wingsecond to make sure things continue smoothly the way I need them to." Who can he puni-er, mold into the ocd management system to benefit the weyr…
Now that S'rorn's been properly congratulated and all, Zi'on heads back around to sit on the arm of his chair, which Enka is currently occupying. "Well, at least let me live for a little while. I'd like to see Ezio hit his first birthday at the least." They could go over the party specifics later. Zi'on grins to Ila. "I have to get something out of it though, if I'm gonna be tied up." So Ila better be ready to put his money where his mouth is. Or something. Zi'on nods to Rorn. "I've got a lot of it here already. Trying to separate the useful from the not useful. Get the stuff from the last turn or so into one pile so it can properly organize it. You should take some space in the records room. There's no sense in you having things at home. The weyr wasn't built in a day though. So just focus on keeping the day-to-day running right now. I would suggest with gathering up all your wingriders and letting them know who is boss. I can help, or Ila. I mean the crate missing was one thing, but we don't want to be caught with our pants down again."
Enka tilts her head up a bit to look at the Weyrleader perched on the chair arm, and she grins a bit. "Well, shells, I wouldn't kill you off that fast. Need to keep you around for a while." Not only to see Ezio hit a turn old, at least, but with Miraneith all knocked up now, and being gravid, there'd be no leadership flight for a long long time to judge by her lapses between rising. No point in killing off a Weyrleader to have to do all the work of two until then. She nods slightly, lips twitching with amusement at the conversation between the bronzeriders. "Well, Iris might have a bit of trouble tyin' me up once I've got her good and trussed. And I did mean that I could oblige anyone who /wanted/ to be tied up." A sly little sideway look around the room then, "for which I could probably make it worth anyone's while, but…" a long pause comes, Enka nodding at Rorn. "I'd advise waitin' at least a few days so you can observe your new wingriders and see who works best. Of course, there's always the option of bringin' in someone from any other wing, if you feel that they'd suit you more. It's a last resort though, might breed a bit of animosity."
Oh, and what a wicked smile Enka gets, when Ila'den chuckles in good humor and pushes himself to stand from Zi'on's desk. He refrains from comment, and turns his attention onto S'rorn to reiterate what the Weyrleader has just said. "I'll be available whenever you need me, if ever, unless Zi'on's got me doing something more important." Like non-Weyrsecond jobs of hunting down /more/ people, or presenting more ominious boxes ominious. "For now, though, I have another matter to attend to, and I do hope you'll all forgive me. Congratulations again, S'rorn. Glad to have you on board." There's another salute, for all of them, and then the bronzerider is hunkering towards the exit. Vamoosh!
The newly knotted rider rises to his feet and sighs. "Waiting a couple of days is a good idea. After that, things are going to get ugly. I almost have sympathy for the rest of the wing but as I might've mentioned before… I kinda like eating and I'm not going to let the rest of the weyr fall into ruins because some idiots are too lazy to do some bloody paperwork correctly." The brownrider's shoulders slump as his lifemate obnoxiously asks over and over and over if they can go to the feeding grounds now. He could go by himself as he always does but Nyzieroth is being rather obnoxious today. "I best be off, another duty with a stomach calls. Thank you Ma'am, Sir. I won't let you down."