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Date Posted: 13:22:13 09/20/05 Tue
Author: Yima
Subject: Sorry to keep T'bel waiting... I was house-sitting all weekend, and their 'net connection is horrible. >_< But now I get to write Yima! *squees*
In reply to: T'bel and Quilth 's message, "omg.. it lives... *happy squee*" on 09:02:33 09/16/05 Fri

Seeing the Weyrleader approach her, Yima tenses a bit more, but straightens and composes her face, forcing herself to meet the man's eyes. Crouching like a frightened firelizard isn't going to impress him. He may have a bronze dragon, but I have Yimask, she reminds herself. Not that there's any question which is superior - in intelligence, strength, and the rank automatically bestowed upon them by the people of Pern - but knowing that she has one unwavering friend, loyal enough to die for her if necessary, is an enormous confidence boost. T'bel's glance at her beltknife serves as a sharp reminder that this is not proper behavior for her surroundings, and Yima quickly pulls her hand away, not without a twinge of unease at the subtle submission, and clasps both hands behind her back to keep her fingers noticably distant from the hilt. The first words out of her mouth are automatic, a courtesy that she hopes will help smooth over her faux pas, though she slides straight into business from there. "Congratulations on your flight, Weyrleader, and on an impressive clutch. I meant to speak to you, or your Weyrwoman." The Weyrwoman is Wessae - Yima had heard that much during her short time here - but a little part of her mutters that it would be easier if she knew this man's name, as well. Aaach, there's no disrespect in just using his title, she decides, dark grey eyes fixed solidly on the Weyrleader's face. But his offer to move elsewhere, while presumably meant to put Yima at her ease, only makes her stiffen slightly. She knows it's not meant as a challenge, but admitting to the fear gnawing in her gut would be too humiliating now. "Talking here is fine. I'm Yima, handler of gold watchwher Yimask, and currently acting as CraftMaster for the wher-handlers on the island." Her voice is hoarse, raspier than usual, and she pauses and swallows in an effort to minimize her sore throat. She's been talking so much in the past few days, and she's not used to it yet. So you'll have to get used to it, she reminds herself firmly. The pause also helps her organize her thoughts a bit more. "We are anything but self-sufficient at the moment, I'm afraid-" and it hurts to admit that, but while she could feed her people from the jungle if she absolutely had to, there's just too much that the jungle can't supply "-and I would like to make arrangements with the Weyr to have some of our needs supplied, until we can stand on our own again. I won't take advantage of the Weyr's kindness, and I feel that there is much the watchwhers could do for you." It's not a moral matter for Yima; whether the Weyr would be kind enough to help without an immediate exchange or not (and she doesn't even know if it would), that would put the Wher Hall in the Weyr's debt. And that would be unbearable. She pauses here, eyes fixed on the Weyrleader as much to keep them from darting about the cavern as to take in his reactions, and waits for his reply.

((I know that Pup and I had Yima stopping briefly at the Weyr before she charged off into the forest, and as the first wher-handler I've been assuming she might have been an object of curiousity for some of the dragonriders, but I don't know if T'bel would have heard anything about her. So I'm erring on the side of caution, and having her assume that he hasn't - because I'm sure she'd rather introduce herself redundantly than risk him thinking that she's anyone less than who she wants to present herself as.
...Yima has image issues, I think.))

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