[PRP] Rumor Has It (Ink and Zheria) [Fin]

[Masterharper]

Mx Cherie

((OOCly: I assume Ink would know that her request for news of the day is for an update on any assignments she'd sent her on.
News from her friends would likely mean people they're watching or keeping an eye out for -- either people they need to help get out of bad situations,
fellow allies, or notable Weyr gossips/rumor -- and any trouble is likely sorts like Gansley and other thugs or pests.))

Zheria said nothing as Ink brushed, and braided, her hair. She had her eyes closed, taking a moment to simply enjoy the feel of fingers combing through her long locks. She did not fear Ink's betrayal, or worry that said hands would turn aggressive, or cruel; no, she trusted the woman, with as much trust as Zheria knew to give. The dark haired bluerider had been nothing but loyal to her since she'd helped plan her escape from Nabol, and had risen up from simply another pawn, to an integral part of her network. While D'mon had his handful of Wingleaders, Zheria had her own people on whom she relied.

"Tell me, Ink," she finally broke the silence. Her words were quiet, soft, and just loud enough for the black haired woman to hear. She well knew that her room was quiet, safe, secure; no one was here that shouldn't be, and the walls were thick and soundproof. Still, old habits died hard, and the stone Weyr often reminded her of her time back in the mines... and there, no one was safe and privacy near non-existent. Better to be cautious than reckless, and Zheria was anything but careless. "What news might interest your Weyrwoman this day?" She didn't need to spell out what she needed to know; if anyone was listening in, they might simply think she was hoping to be entertained with conversation. "Have you heard from our friends at all? Any troubles ailing you? It's been some time since we last spoke."

She leaned back into the others touches, waiting.  

[Masterharper]

Mx Cherie

Zheria listened to the other woman speak, leaning into her skilled hands, but intently focused upon her words. She said nothing for a moment, considering her response, and debating what must be done. Pern was nothing more than politics; there were those who played the game, and those who did not. As the Weyrwoman of High Reaches Weyr, she had little choice -- particularly if she wanted to keep her home, and her riders, safe. She was granted a unique position to know what was going on around the world, well before it was made public, if it was ever publicized at all.

"Do tell them that I'd be more than honored to make an appearance. I did quite enjoy the last entertainment, and would be happy to bring a few of my best escorts and dance partners." If there was an uprising in Nabol, or some other territory, Zheria certainly wanted to at least be aware, if not have to make an appearance and weigh in on the matter. If nothing else, she had people who could assist - or hinder - depending on what needed to be done. The Weyrs weren't to interfere with many of the world's happenings, and yet, Zheria found it harder and harder to abide by such things. While she would not involve her Weyr... she had people she could entrust such things to, and not all of them were affiliated.

"Mmm, though I might miss our nightly rendezvous, I would encourage such a trip, if Morth might be so willing." It was a shame her blue had lost his ability to fly -- but the dragon seemed to be content enough to allow his rider the freedom she needed. Whether that meant staying in the Weyr, or journeying outside of it. "If white silks are coming into fashion, I dare say indulge as you best see fit."

While Zheria was well aware of the healthy white dragon population within Ruatha, it was all Fort Weyr would need to deal with -- some sort of rebellion to strike it on their own. But could Pern support Weyrholds with Thread's return? Would they fight with Fort Weyr, or would they make their own way? Ruatha had always been a bit of a wild card, and while they were not covered by High Reaches, they did share a border with Nabol. That in itself made Zheria curious to the outcome, and whether or not Gansley would wish to press his advantage.  

[Masterharper]

Mx Cherie

Zheria considered the woman's request, weighing her current needs against Ink's request to spend a good portion of the time away. This wasn't necessarily uncommon, though Zheria also understood that Ink's absence would and could easily be noted. Morth would likely not be accompanying the woman, and would still need care; and some excuse for the blue rider's absence would need to be noted. Perhaps the woman was being called upon for her weaving skills, or looking to do a little studying beneath some Journeyman or Master somewhere or another; with Morth's inability to fly, and the Hold too far to talk, it could account for her absence.

"Who has time for fishing?" She gave a small snort, though the judgment in her words was not true. "If you must waste your time on such hobbies than do so, but return to me with haste once you've satisfied such a need. Morth still needs his rider, after all." In case any one was listening, she needed to be truthful to her role. Of course Zheria would turn up her nose at the idea of fishing... but Ink knew her words were hollow, simply a precaution.

"Bring me back a necklace of crimson thread with a gold and ruby pendent, and matching earrings made of western hill gold." A death sentence for someone, and a bloody warning for two others. She'd get Ink the details privately through Morth of the who, and the where.  

[Uta]

Mr Cheri

It was more than Morth who needed her back. While Zheria was the sort of woman who toyed with men, broke them without care, and used men and women both to her hearts content -- there were very few who were able to worm their way into her hearts. Lady Ink was one of her few exceptions, and one of her few friends. Though she used the blue rider as a tool -- and a deadly one at that -- it was clear she trusted her. Ink was as close and dear to her as Olliah was, if not, perhaps more so.

Olliah was the gentle heart to smooth down ruffled edges, and to help keep the Weyr rolling. Ink was the sharper heart that took care of things when diplomacy failed, or was never an option to begin with. Zheria had put trust into the other, and it had, thus far, paid off. She needed Ink and her knowledge, just as she needed the woman's arsenal of weapons.... and she also needed her for softer, more tender moments.

Oh, she could seduce anyone in the Weyr if she really wanted -- but tonight? With Ink's hands in her thick locks of hair, and the knowledge she would slip away in the morrow, the Weyrwoman decided there was no time like the present. "You spoil me," she purred at Ink's words, the possibility of some sort of surprise. Ink knew what she liked, and what she enjoyed most. Reaching up, she let her long arm reach back, to gently pull the woman away form her hair. Twisting, she let her lips brush against the others neck, jaw, and cheek, before pulling her down into a kiss.

The time for words was over.