Methods and strategies.
Who: Miniyal and Issa
Where: Weyrlingmaster's office
When: 17:16 on day 10, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: The weyrlings have been given an assignment. Miniyal has some concerns with the subject of this report her group has to do and while waiting to snare the weyrlingmaster gets his wingsecond instead. Who tries to make a point. And doesn't quite do so.
6/11/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 17:14 on day 10, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It is nearly almost dinnertime. Sort of. There's still almost another hour of Things To Do. Most of the weyrlings are still at what they should be doing and some of them are. . .not. Good excuses one and all for not being at what they should do including one in particular. It's not that surprising for Miniyal to be doing other than what she should be. She does try, and often succeeds, at not doing it often enough for D'ven to notice and yell. Not that she minds the yelling. It's all just ignored as much as anything else. However, today something cannot be ignored and there's a general sort of lurking by the goldrider outside the door to D'ven's office. The door is open a fraction, but no one is inside. That must be why she is outside, waiting. Someone will show up eventually. Especially since she is not where she should be. That generally gets noticed.
Recently, Issa has been found in the training cavern only in the mornings, the baby in her belly taking too much of a toll on her energy for her to handle much more than that. But though she left earlier in the afternoon to tend to her own life, she's back here for a quick moment to look into the lives of the weyrlings, a folded hide in her hands and headed straight for the office that Miniyal lurks outside of. The sight of the goldrider as she nears registers no surprise with her, and it's merely a warm and curious little smile that greet Miniyal as Issa pauses a few steps down on the short set of stairs that lead to the office. "Miniyal? What're you doing?"
"Ma'am." The slouching is mostly corrected so that Miniyal might salute. She makes an effort to be proper. It's not really very often that she makes that effort, but she does now. Likely, for her own reasons. Isn't everything for her own reasons? Still, the effort is made. "I was looking for D'ven, ma'am. But he's not in his office. Maybe you might be of assistance? It's about that assignment regarding the other weyrs, ma'am. I'm. . .not sure that it would be wise for me to be assigned to report on Telgar."
An eyebrow is cocked at Miniyal, but it has no effect on the strength of that smile that Issa favors her with as she listens to the reason Miniyal is seeking out the weyrlingmaster staff. "Go in, go in," she urges quietly, one hand lifted to wave the goldrider lightly in as she slowly begins to climb the few steps she has left. "And why would it not be wise?" she asks, though it's clear with the way that the pregnant greenrider continues to push forward that it's not a question meant to be answered until they're both inside the confines of the empty office.
If it is inside she must go then it is inside she will go. Miniyal pushes the door open all the way and steps inside. She stands there by it waiting for Issa and when the other woman has entered as well the door gets closed for her. After that she takes a few steps inside the room, but makes no effort to seat herself. Just slides her hands into her pockets and looks at Issa. "Because I can't /not/ tell the others in my group what I know about Telgar's last weyrleader, ma'am. And I am constantly being told that spreading the information I possess is wrong." She pauses to hold up a hand. "And you know what I know. And D'ven knows what I know. And I really don't need another scolding from the Weyrwoman if word gets out I've done yet another thing wrong. And don't say I can not tell because if you truly think that then I've made no impression at all on you, ma'am."
When Issa steps into the office, she makes her way behind the desk with that hide in her hand. While Miniyal speaks she sorts briefly through the messages already waiting for D'ven at the edge of the desk and places the one she has in among them, appropriate to its urgency. Little glances dart up to the weyrling, though, revealing by stages the wider smile that's building behind that mundane business. "I don't expect that," is what she begins with, one last pat given to the small stack of hides before she straightens, her weight shifted to the same hip her hand comes to rest on. "Look," she starts again, focusing her gaze on Miniyal, "I know that you can't keep quiet on what you know about Telgar. In fact, I don't want you to. What I'm trying to give you, though, is a... different approach. Than the one you've been using." With other such things, the momentary glimpse of hardness around the edges of her smile, of slight thinness around her eyes, surely implicates a certain little journal she found in her possession not long ago.
"With all due respect, ma'am," Miniyal begins once Issa has had her say, "It's still me that gets to listen to lectures about not knowing when to shut the fuck up." Which is perhaps not exactly the way other people might see the lectures she gets from the Werywoman, but is how she sees them. One hand comes from a pocket to try to tuck her hair behind her ears. It falls forward again almost immediately and this time she doesn't try to fix it. Instead she just slides her hand back into its pocket. "I am quite aware many people do not agree with my methods, ma'am." Closing her eyes she sucks her lower lip into her mouth to chews on it. When it is released from her teeth she opens her eyes once more. "Who told you? And what exactly did you object to? I doubt it was so much the way the information was delivered as the information that was delivered, ma'am."
"Who do you think?" Issa responds, question for question, though this one seems more rhetorical than anything else. "And of course it was the information, but receiving it without knowing who sent it or with what motive didn't exactly help anything," she tells Miniyal, her voice slowly firming as she goes. "But that's beside the point," she dismisses, regaining control of her tone with that simple shift. She gently strokes her fingers through the front of her curls, eventually dragging the length of her hair behind her shoulders as she continues. "You're a goldrider now, Miniyal," she says as if the weyrling needed reminding, "you're not always going to be able to be as blatant as you have been. I'm trying to show you how to do what you want by compromising a bit on those methods of yours that seem so unpopular. There is a halfway point between spouting your every thought and 'shut the fuck up.'"
Her eyes roll and for a second there's something in Miniyal's eyes. It's impossible to tell what it was because it disappears again so she can go back to careful blandness of expression. "And she gets mad at me when I don't tell her things. When she proves over and over she can't keep her mouth shut." It's mumbled. A comment to herself that slips out into something vocal without her meaning it to, possibly without even being aware of it. "I don't understand that. The information should be more important than the manner in which one reads it. The motives are irrelevant, ma'am. It's what is given that matters. However, since it appears my motives are forever believed to be something wrong-" Pausing she lets out a sigh and looks down at the floor. "Simple. She's back now. She's close. You will try to find a way to speak to her. She will let you tell her what you will. And if that is your wish then fine. But if you're going to live here with divided loyalties that could impact us then you need to know whom it is you are loyal to. That is all." She stops again so she might shake her head, sending her hair falling freely over her face. "I do not spout my every thought, ma'am. I never have."
Issa lets Miniyal talk about motives and loyalties without comment, without even a flicker in her expression, but when she moves on, the greenrider smootly pipes up again. "Good. Then you have less work to do than I thought." Meanwhile, the chair to her left gets a good long look before she proceeds to sit in it-- a longer process than it once was, involving a slow lowering and a few soft grunts between her words. "What should be and what is aren't the same things. Motives matter, people matter," she tells her, each word stressed. She shifts heavily to settle herself as comfortably as possible before looking up at Miniyal again. "Learn to work with it," she utters, her tone both slower and softer. "This research assignment is an exercise. Use it."
"Ma'am? Why should I learn to work with something that is wrong? Why should I accept it and work with it when I can instead work to change it with my actions?" It is never simple. Ever. At least not with Miniyal. However, it seems she is going to let it go. For now. "If it just might be noted, ma'am, for the record I tried to stop this. So when Roa or R'vain or both decide to have some sort of fit. . .I tried to stop it. This was not my idea. Thank you for your time, ma'am."
"Because you're not changing anything with what you're doing," Issa tells her bluntly and immediately, soft tones abandoned along with her strictly calm expression, a tiny frown of frustration dropping down between her brows. "Can't you see it's not working?" If Miniyal should even begin to edge doorwards, a simple clear of the wingsecond's throat and a wave will beckon her back. "You can send the Weyrleaders to me if they have a problem with this, but the /point is/," and a finger is jabbed into the arm of D'ven's desk chair, Issa leaning forward as much as her stomach will let her, "that they're not supposed to have a problem with it. This is a slow leak of information, not a torrent. Try out a bit of subtlety."
There is no edging for the door, not once it become apparent that she is going to keep speaking. "Who says it is not working, ma'am? Who has decided that my methods are incorrect and I should give up on them?" For a moment her eyes focus directly on the greenrider. When the moment has passed she returns to looking at the floor. Miniyal once more removes a hand from her pocket to swipe at her hair. When that is accomplished she tucks it back into her pocket. "Yes, well, there are plenty of things people should not have problems with and they do. It's not like or them has any idea what I've done in the past. Assuming you know what does and does not work with what I have done assumes anyone has full access to my plans or my actions. I refuse to accept that just because it is disagreed with makes it wrong. There have been people who knew what I did and did not think it was wrong." Well, maybe one. Maybe.
"But there are also people who think the way you do things is wrong," Issa counters, insistent, "and if you want to convince those people as well, of anything," she stresses, "then you have to change your tactic. I don't care about your long-term plans, and I am not the one saying that your methods are wrong. I am the one telling you that if you want to deal with those people who do, then you can try something different," this too, gets stressed, highlighting her avoidance of the word 'better,' "and still be able to achieve the same effect." A breath breaks into her words and Issa relaxes her previously unnoticed tension to press her shoulders back against the chair again. "Do you play any games Miniyal?" she asks, though it's not so casual as to indicate a release of the topic. She has something in mind.
"Whatever you say, ma'am." A small shrug accompanies these words, but there is little change in expression or tone. Perhaps a bit of weariness about the whole thing that Miniyal cannot quite hide. Weariness is, after all, not much of an emotion. Miniyal blinks behind her hair and looks up from the floor a moment before shaking her head. "No, ma'am. Not anymore."
And if Miniyal can't hide her wariness, Issa can't quite keep her weariness under wraps; it's the kind of weariness of the maze-wanderer, who's tried a hundred different routes only to be met with the disappointment of a dead end. "Well, back when you did," Issa prefaces, her voice at least conferring some measure of patience still, "did you use the same strategy no matter who your partner was or what your partner tried?"
If it were not for Miniyal people in the weyr would not be able to practice their patience nearly as much. "Basically. I mean, I always lost, but it was just because the right situation had not happened yet. But without testing a strategy in all available situations how does one know for sure when and where it will work? Some losses are to be expected, but that does not mean that the strategy itself is flawed." Once again proving that the veneer of logic she so often pretends to have is very thin indeed.
Issa slowly drops into a lean against one of the arms of the chair, the one closer to Miniyal though it doesn't seem to be a shift that entails any increased level of interest. "And how many losses are you willing to take, before you decide a strategy's flawed? Hundreds, thousands? Have you had a win yet, Miniyal?"
"However long it takes, ma'am. I have made revisions to my plans as they are needed." Miniyal sweeps hair off her face and this time the other hand comes up from a pocket as well. So she can twist around her finger the ring worn on it. Twist, twist, twist. "I do not see my life as a game, ma'am. What I do- What I need to do is not a game to be played. It is very serious. I take it very seriously. It is not a thing of wins and losses. It is a struggle to make the world aware of what it needs to see. Whatever the cost."
Issa takes another deep breath and turns her eyes down to trace the very edge of the desk in front of her. "It's an analogy, Miniyal, it's not to be taken literally." Blue eyes flick up again and study the young goldrider's face for a moment in silence before she says, "Forgive me, but I think that if the cost is never communicating the things you want the world to see, then the strategy isn't worth it."
Miniyal's eyes drift downwards and then back up to give another tease of a meeting of glances between her and the wingsecond. "It's not like I have anything to lose, ma'am. If I fail, I mean. It's what I have chosen to do.. If I make it harder than it needs to be then that is my choice as well, ma'am." Now she does take a step backwards, not edging for the door, but heading for it with that one step. "Is that all, ma'am?"
"No," Issa answers immediately, eyes firm on the weyrling. But the words that follow are softer, dealt as if it were a conversation in the living caverns and not a confrontation in D'ven's office. "Will you indulge me? This once? Try a different approach with this project. Adapt just a bit and see how it works."
"Ma'am, all things considered I don't see where your ways work any better than mine." Miniyal takes another step backwards. "You sneak around as much as I do, only you stay hidden all the time. You don't ever let people see what you are doing. At least I do not always hide. At least when I think something is worth it I will do what needs doing. Do you really think I am so dumb, ma'am? Why does everyone feel the need to assume I don't know what goes on around here?" Stopping after that one step she looks up and over again. "Everyone knows what I do. Do you think I don't know that? That when something turns up everyone automatically looks to me and assigns the worst motives to why I did it. Like it or not, ma'am, this is who I am. This is what I am doing. I've lost everything but Peloth and the truth. I can't lose anything else. And I can't change just because someone asks me to."
As Miniyal babbles on, Issa's legs stretch behind the desk as far as their able, then retract again, but by the time the weyrling has finished she's decided that it's better for her to just stand, awkward and bottom-heavy. Eyes focused on something farther than the wall behind Miniyal, she listens, and she doesn't move her gaze an inch as she responds with a weary last effort, "You wouldn't be losing a thing. You'd be gaining so much. But if you can't see that, then your group is reassigned to Ista Weyr." She says it without any evidence of thought on the matter, as her attention moves itself to the desk and a bit of a mess that lies on one corner. A crumpled cloth napkin is picked up, palmed, and then Issa looks back at Miniyal. "And you can keep your truth all to yourself." A brief pause. "Come see me if you change your mind in the next few days." And that, it seems, is it, for the wingsecond continues to clean up the clutter of the desk, selecting an entire file of hides and bringing it with her to the cabinets meant for keeping such things.
"Thank you, ma'am." Reassignment being what she came for. Miniyal doesn't bother with a salute and just turns to show herself out. At door, hand on the knob, but before she opens it she glances over her shoulder. "I use that trick too, ma'am. Change the subject, end the conversation, excuse oneself from saying anything else. Especially when the other person has said something that bothers me. Completely ignoring it. The best option. Have a good evening." Then the door is opened and she finally escapes.
Issa looks up from the open drawer, a finger still held in the spot she inserted the file. A chuckle answers her parting shot, not tense but actually amused. "You don't know people as much as you think you do, Miniyal," she tells her, but it's kindly said. It's the last thing the weyrling will hear before she leaves the wingsecond alone in the office, working when she shouldn't be.
Where: Weyrlingmaster's office
When: 17:16 on day 10, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: The weyrlings have been given an assignment. Miniyal has some concerns with the subject of this report her group has to do and while waiting to snare the weyrlingmaster gets his wingsecond instead. Who tries to make a point. And doesn't quite do so.
6/11/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 17:14 on day 10, month 12, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It is nearly almost dinnertime. Sort of. There's still almost another hour of Things To Do. Most of the weyrlings are still at what they should be doing and some of them are. . .not. Good excuses one and all for not being at what they should do including one in particular. It's not that surprising for Miniyal to be doing other than what she should be. She does try, and often succeeds, at not doing it often enough for D'ven to notice and yell. Not that she minds the yelling. It's all just ignored as much as anything else. However, today something cannot be ignored and there's a general sort of lurking by the goldrider outside the door to D'ven's office. The door is open a fraction, but no one is inside. That must be why she is outside, waiting. Someone will show up eventually. Especially since she is not where she should be. That generally gets noticed.
Recently, Issa has been found in the training cavern only in the mornings, the baby in her belly taking too much of a toll on her energy for her to handle much more than that. But though she left earlier in the afternoon to tend to her own life, she's back here for a quick moment to look into the lives of the weyrlings, a folded hide in her hands and headed straight for the office that Miniyal lurks outside of. The sight of the goldrider as she nears registers no surprise with her, and it's merely a warm and curious little smile that greet Miniyal as Issa pauses a few steps down on the short set of stairs that lead to the office. "Miniyal? What're you doing?"
"Ma'am." The slouching is mostly corrected so that Miniyal might salute. She makes an effort to be proper. It's not really very often that she makes that effort, but she does now. Likely, for her own reasons. Isn't everything for her own reasons? Still, the effort is made. "I was looking for D'ven, ma'am. But he's not in his office. Maybe you might be of assistance? It's about that assignment regarding the other weyrs, ma'am. I'm. . .not sure that it would be wise for me to be assigned to report on Telgar."
An eyebrow is cocked at Miniyal, but it has no effect on the strength of that smile that Issa favors her with as she listens to the reason Miniyal is seeking out the weyrlingmaster staff. "Go in, go in," she urges quietly, one hand lifted to wave the goldrider lightly in as she slowly begins to climb the few steps she has left. "And why would it not be wise?" she asks, though it's clear with the way that the pregnant greenrider continues to push forward that it's not a question meant to be answered until they're both inside the confines of the empty office.
If it is inside she must go then it is inside she will go. Miniyal pushes the door open all the way and steps inside. She stands there by it waiting for Issa and when the other woman has entered as well the door gets closed for her. After that she takes a few steps inside the room, but makes no effort to seat herself. Just slides her hands into her pockets and looks at Issa. "Because I can't /not/ tell the others in my group what I know about Telgar's last weyrleader, ma'am. And I am constantly being told that spreading the information I possess is wrong." She pauses to hold up a hand. "And you know what I know. And D'ven knows what I know. And I really don't need another scolding from the Weyrwoman if word gets out I've done yet another thing wrong. And don't say I can not tell because if you truly think that then I've made no impression at all on you, ma'am."
When Issa steps into the office, she makes her way behind the desk with that hide in her hand. While Miniyal speaks she sorts briefly through the messages already waiting for D'ven at the edge of the desk and places the one she has in among them, appropriate to its urgency. Little glances dart up to the weyrling, though, revealing by stages the wider smile that's building behind that mundane business. "I don't expect that," is what she begins with, one last pat given to the small stack of hides before she straightens, her weight shifted to the same hip her hand comes to rest on. "Look," she starts again, focusing her gaze on Miniyal, "I know that you can't keep quiet on what you know about Telgar. In fact, I don't want you to. What I'm trying to give you, though, is a... different approach. Than the one you've been using." With other such things, the momentary glimpse of hardness around the edges of her smile, of slight thinness around her eyes, surely implicates a certain little journal she found in her possession not long ago.
"With all due respect, ma'am," Miniyal begins once Issa has had her say, "It's still me that gets to listen to lectures about not knowing when to shut the fuck up." Which is perhaps not exactly the way other people might see the lectures she gets from the Werywoman, but is how she sees them. One hand comes from a pocket to try to tuck her hair behind her ears. It falls forward again almost immediately and this time she doesn't try to fix it. Instead she just slides her hand back into its pocket. "I am quite aware many people do not agree with my methods, ma'am." Closing her eyes she sucks her lower lip into her mouth to chews on it. When it is released from her teeth she opens her eyes once more. "Who told you? And what exactly did you object to? I doubt it was so much the way the information was delivered as the information that was delivered, ma'am."
"Who do you think?" Issa responds, question for question, though this one seems more rhetorical than anything else. "And of course it was the information, but receiving it without knowing who sent it or with what motive didn't exactly help anything," she tells Miniyal, her voice slowly firming as she goes. "But that's beside the point," she dismisses, regaining control of her tone with that simple shift. She gently strokes her fingers through the front of her curls, eventually dragging the length of her hair behind her shoulders as she continues. "You're a goldrider now, Miniyal," she says as if the weyrling needed reminding, "you're not always going to be able to be as blatant as you have been. I'm trying to show you how to do what you want by compromising a bit on those methods of yours that seem so unpopular. There is a halfway point between spouting your every thought and 'shut the fuck up.'"
Her eyes roll and for a second there's something in Miniyal's eyes. It's impossible to tell what it was because it disappears again so she can go back to careful blandness of expression. "And she gets mad at me when I don't tell her things. When she proves over and over she can't keep her mouth shut." It's mumbled. A comment to herself that slips out into something vocal without her meaning it to, possibly without even being aware of it. "I don't understand that. The information should be more important than the manner in which one reads it. The motives are irrelevant, ma'am. It's what is given that matters. However, since it appears my motives are forever believed to be something wrong-" Pausing she lets out a sigh and looks down at the floor. "Simple. She's back now. She's close. You will try to find a way to speak to her. She will let you tell her what you will. And if that is your wish then fine. But if you're going to live here with divided loyalties that could impact us then you need to know whom it is you are loyal to. That is all." She stops again so she might shake her head, sending her hair falling freely over her face. "I do not spout my every thought, ma'am. I never have."
Issa lets Miniyal talk about motives and loyalties without comment, without even a flicker in her expression, but when she moves on, the greenrider smootly pipes up again. "Good. Then you have less work to do than I thought." Meanwhile, the chair to her left gets a good long look before she proceeds to sit in it-- a longer process than it once was, involving a slow lowering and a few soft grunts between her words. "What should be and what is aren't the same things. Motives matter, people matter," she tells her, each word stressed. She shifts heavily to settle herself as comfortably as possible before looking up at Miniyal again. "Learn to work with it," she utters, her tone both slower and softer. "This research assignment is an exercise. Use it."
"Ma'am? Why should I learn to work with something that is wrong? Why should I accept it and work with it when I can instead work to change it with my actions?" It is never simple. Ever. At least not with Miniyal. However, it seems she is going to let it go. For now. "If it just might be noted, ma'am, for the record I tried to stop this. So when Roa or R'vain or both decide to have some sort of fit. . .I tried to stop it. This was not my idea. Thank you for your time, ma'am."
"Because you're not changing anything with what you're doing," Issa tells her bluntly and immediately, soft tones abandoned along with her strictly calm expression, a tiny frown of frustration dropping down between her brows. "Can't you see it's not working?" If Miniyal should even begin to edge doorwards, a simple clear of the wingsecond's throat and a wave will beckon her back. "You can send the Weyrleaders to me if they have a problem with this, but the /point is/," and a finger is jabbed into the arm of D'ven's desk chair, Issa leaning forward as much as her stomach will let her, "that they're not supposed to have a problem with it. This is a slow leak of information, not a torrent. Try out a bit of subtlety."
There is no edging for the door, not once it become apparent that she is going to keep speaking. "Who says it is not working, ma'am? Who has decided that my methods are incorrect and I should give up on them?" For a moment her eyes focus directly on the greenrider. When the moment has passed she returns to looking at the floor. Miniyal once more removes a hand from her pocket to swipe at her hair. When that is accomplished she tucks it back into her pocket. "Yes, well, there are plenty of things people should not have problems with and they do. It's not like or them has any idea what I've done in the past. Assuming you know what does and does not work with what I have done assumes anyone has full access to my plans or my actions. I refuse to accept that just because it is disagreed with makes it wrong. There have been people who knew what I did and did not think it was wrong." Well, maybe one. Maybe.
"But there are also people who think the way you do things is wrong," Issa counters, insistent, "and if you want to convince those people as well, of anything," she stresses, "then you have to change your tactic. I don't care about your long-term plans, and I am not the one saying that your methods are wrong. I am the one telling you that if you want to deal with those people who do, then you can try something different," this too, gets stressed, highlighting her avoidance of the word 'better,' "and still be able to achieve the same effect." A breath breaks into her words and Issa relaxes her previously unnoticed tension to press her shoulders back against the chair again. "Do you play any games Miniyal?" she asks, though it's not so casual as to indicate a release of the topic. She has something in mind.
"Whatever you say, ma'am." A small shrug accompanies these words, but there is little change in expression or tone. Perhaps a bit of weariness about the whole thing that Miniyal cannot quite hide. Weariness is, after all, not much of an emotion. Miniyal blinks behind her hair and looks up from the floor a moment before shaking her head. "No, ma'am. Not anymore."
And if Miniyal can't hide her wariness, Issa can't quite keep her weariness under wraps; it's the kind of weariness of the maze-wanderer, who's tried a hundred different routes only to be met with the disappointment of a dead end. "Well, back when you did," Issa prefaces, her voice at least conferring some measure of patience still, "did you use the same strategy no matter who your partner was or what your partner tried?"
If it were not for Miniyal people in the weyr would not be able to practice their patience nearly as much. "Basically. I mean, I always lost, but it was just because the right situation had not happened yet. But without testing a strategy in all available situations how does one know for sure when and where it will work? Some losses are to be expected, but that does not mean that the strategy itself is flawed." Once again proving that the veneer of logic she so often pretends to have is very thin indeed.
Issa slowly drops into a lean against one of the arms of the chair, the one closer to Miniyal though it doesn't seem to be a shift that entails any increased level of interest. "And how many losses are you willing to take, before you decide a strategy's flawed? Hundreds, thousands? Have you had a win yet, Miniyal?"
"However long it takes, ma'am. I have made revisions to my plans as they are needed." Miniyal sweeps hair off her face and this time the other hand comes up from a pocket as well. So she can twist around her finger the ring worn on it. Twist, twist, twist. "I do not see my life as a game, ma'am. What I do- What I need to do is not a game to be played. It is very serious. I take it very seriously. It is not a thing of wins and losses. It is a struggle to make the world aware of what it needs to see. Whatever the cost."
Issa takes another deep breath and turns her eyes down to trace the very edge of the desk in front of her. "It's an analogy, Miniyal, it's not to be taken literally." Blue eyes flick up again and study the young goldrider's face for a moment in silence before she says, "Forgive me, but I think that if the cost is never communicating the things you want the world to see, then the strategy isn't worth it."
Miniyal's eyes drift downwards and then back up to give another tease of a meeting of glances between her and the wingsecond. "It's not like I have anything to lose, ma'am. If I fail, I mean. It's what I have chosen to do.. If I make it harder than it needs to be then that is my choice as well, ma'am." Now she does take a step backwards, not edging for the door, but heading for it with that one step. "Is that all, ma'am?"
"No," Issa answers immediately, eyes firm on the weyrling. But the words that follow are softer, dealt as if it were a conversation in the living caverns and not a confrontation in D'ven's office. "Will you indulge me? This once? Try a different approach with this project. Adapt just a bit and see how it works."
"Ma'am, all things considered I don't see where your ways work any better than mine." Miniyal takes another step backwards. "You sneak around as much as I do, only you stay hidden all the time. You don't ever let people see what you are doing. At least I do not always hide. At least when I think something is worth it I will do what needs doing. Do you really think I am so dumb, ma'am? Why does everyone feel the need to assume I don't know what goes on around here?" Stopping after that one step she looks up and over again. "Everyone knows what I do. Do you think I don't know that? That when something turns up everyone automatically looks to me and assigns the worst motives to why I did it. Like it or not, ma'am, this is who I am. This is what I am doing. I've lost everything but Peloth and the truth. I can't lose anything else. And I can't change just because someone asks me to."
As Miniyal babbles on, Issa's legs stretch behind the desk as far as their able, then retract again, but by the time the weyrling has finished she's decided that it's better for her to just stand, awkward and bottom-heavy. Eyes focused on something farther than the wall behind Miniyal, she listens, and she doesn't move her gaze an inch as she responds with a weary last effort, "You wouldn't be losing a thing. You'd be gaining so much. But if you can't see that, then your group is reassigned to Ista Weyr." She says it without any evidence of thought on the matter, as her attention moves itself to the desk and a bit of a mess that lies on one corner. A crumpled cloth napkin is picked up, palmed, and then Issa looks back at Miniyal. "And you can keep your truth all to yourself." A brief pause. "Come see me if you change your mind in the next few days." And that, it seems, is it, for the wingsecond continues to clean up the clutter of the desk, selecting an entire file of hides and bringing it with her to the cabinets meant for keeping such things.
"Thank you, ma'am." Reassignment being what she came for. Miniyal doesn't bother with a salute and just turns to show herself out. At door, hand on the knob, but before she opens it she glances over her shoulder. "I use that trick too, ma'am. Change the subject, end the conversation, excuse oneself from saying anything else. Especially when the other person has said something that bothers me. Completely ignoring it. The best option. Have a good evening." Then the door is opened and she finally escapes.
Issa looks up from the open drawer, a finger still held in the spot she inserted the file. A chuckle answers her parting shot, not tense but actually amused. "You don't know people as much as you think you do, Miniyal," she tells her, but it's kindly said. It's the last thing the weyrling will hear before she leaves the wingsecond alone in the office, working when she shouldn't be.