Klah First, Shade Second

Writers: Heather, Hunter
Date Posted: 7th June 2025

Characters: Rasme, Xu'ma
Description: Rasme and Xu’ma gossip over the changing leadership
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 6, day 20 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Thiseta, Eyla, Q’vettan, Aydhan
Mentor Approved by Heather

Rasme

“Hey Xu,” Rasme said, using her casual nickname for the other Master Dragonhealer. “Do you have the hides on wingsail membranes? I’m going to have one of the apprentices make a newer copy of it for me.” She leaned against the doorframe of his office as she pointed at her one eye. “The current copy is getting a bit too worn for me to see clearly.”

Xu’ma didn’t look up right away. He finished scribbling a half-legible note in the margin of the report in front of him before glancing toward the doorway, stylus still perched between two fingers and mouth quirked into a dry smile.

“Course I do. But don’t tell me you’re trusting an apprentice to copy anything finer than a numbweed inventory without turning it into a firelizard footprint chart?” He pushed back his chair with a creak, rising to root through one of the cluttered shelves beside his desk.

From the corner shelf, a pale blue shape stirred with a disgruntled trill. Nusk, who had been dozing in regal disapproval atop a pile of unused folders, cracked one eye and let out a sharp, irritable chirp at the sound of rifling hides. His tail flicked once, twice, then slapped the edge of the shelf with all the dramatic disdain of a creature whose rest had been so rudely disturbed. Xu’ma didn’t even glance over.

“Blame Rasme, not me,” he muttered to the firelizard. “I’d never dare wake you without cause.”

“Aha! I’ve got two copies actually,” Xu’ma turned to Rasme with a triumphant grin, casually waving two rolled up hides back and forth. “One from the archives and one I scrawled myself in the middle of a Fall with ichor on my boots and a brown’s foot in my lap. Guess which one has better margins.”

“The apprentice who will do the copying is my granddaughter.” There was a gleam in the woman’s blue eye. “Which guarantees it will be done correctly, or else.” Her smile was wry as she pointed at the copy in his left hand. “I’ll take the one from the archives, no offense to your scrawling, which I’m sure is impeccable given the circumstances.”

Xu’ma raised an eyebrow and held the annotated hide aloft like a precious artifact. “You wound me, Rasme. This ‘scrawl’ was penned one handed while I held down a screeching green with a busted shoulder and a bronze keeling like his tail was on fire. Which it was, kind of.” He tossed the archival original to the goldrider while setting his own copy down with exaggerated care.

Nusk gave a cranky huff from his perch, clearly tired of the noise but unwilling to abandon his vigil.

Xu’ma gestured toward the stack of hides still crowding one side of the table. “There’s more if your granddaughter’s feeling ambitious. Though I’d double-check the one marked ‘emergency sail patching technique.’ I may have accidentally drawn a mustache on the anatomical diagram.” A beat passed before he added, “In my defense, I was very tired. And a little drunk.”

“I once found someone had drawn a bathing suit onto the gold dragon used to display dragon anatomy.” Her lips quirked upwards. “I would, of course, never approve of drawing on the instructional texts, but… Someone was quite a gifted clothing designer.” Rasme tapped the hide in one hand. “You had lunch yet?”

“Negative. I’m all kinds of ravenous,” Xu’ma said, stretching lazily before slanting the goldrider a sidelong look, his grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Or is this one of those ‘lure me in with conversation and detour me into hidework’ days?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she waved a hand. “Let’s get something to eat and gossip about all of new changes.” Rasme began counting them off on her hand. “New Weyrwoman. New Weyrleader. New Weyrdragonhealer. New Wingleader for Cherry Wing.”

Xu’ma groaned good-naturedly and stood, stretching his arms overhead with a pop of tired joints. “You just _had_ to bring up all the changes. Fine, fine, fine. Feed me and I’ll complain in a controlled manner.”

Rasme flashed a grin at Xu’ma’s acceptance. Having a coworker to complain with was a necessity of life, the goldrider thought.

“It still seems odd to look outside the Weyr for a Weyrdragonhealer when there were two _perfectly_ seasoned and capable Master Dragonhealers right here,” she gestured between them. “Eyla and I have known each other for Turns upon Turns. I don’t begrudge her the position, but I do find there to be some _stupidity_ amongst our illustrious Weyrwomen for not talking to one of us first.”

He fell in beside her with the ease of long familiarity, rubbing a hand over his face and then through his hair. “Weyrdragonhealer? Would’ve been nice,” he admitted, not bitter, but thoughtful. “But with half my bloodline still blowing up forges at Dragonsfall, I can’t exactly pretend I’m here when it seems half the time I’m putting fires out elsewhere... Eyla’s a solid choice. She won’t sugarcoat anything and she’s already got the infirmary whipped into shape.”

He cast Rasme a sideways glance, a ghost of a grin surfacing. “Now Aydhan, _that’s_ who I expected to end up Weyrwoman. Steady hands, sharp mind. Then Thiseta’s queen rose first and the rest of us just had to smile and nod like we weren’t all taking bets.”

Rasme’s shoulders lifted in a shrug as they entered the Dining Cavern. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think Aydhan doesn’t seem very interested in the actual _work_ part of her job. Maybe the dragons could tell. Still, I would have preferred it be her as to a new outsider. Not that I know of any reason it _shouldn’t_ be Thiseta, but Aydhan saw us through Riyanth’s death and the subsequent fallout.”

As they turned into the food line, Xu’ma grabbed a plate, making a tight-lipped face before moving on, steering away from that particular subject.. “And Q’vettan as Weyrleader… shards, I _liked_ him as a harper. Hope he doesn’t miss singing once the paperwork really hits.” A shrug. “Still. He’s clever. And clever’s better than charming, when you're trying to hold a Weyr together.”

“He’s charming like a tunnelsnake,” Rasme said with a quirk of her lips. “He’s too smooth. I’m not sure I completely trust him, but he certainly has the qualifications. Being a harper so well trained, he should be an expert in handling disputes around the Weyr. We need someone like him dealing with that slippery Lord Holder, Bryvin.”

Xu’ma leaned back with a low breath, fingers drumming once against his mug. “They’re going to have their hands full, both of them,” he said finally, his tone dry but not without a thread of sympathy. His lips twitched in a knowing smile. “Harper or not, charm only gets you so far.”

The conversation slowed as the pair of master dragonhealers turned their attention to their plates, the aroma of fresh bread and spiced tubers filling the quiet between them. Between thoughtfully chewed bites came the occasional remark, half-serious speculations on who among the new leadership might prove useful or merely decorative, and who’d be in over their heads by the next Fall.

By the time their plates were cleared, the klah pot nearly empty between them, the easy rhythm of their banter had softened into something companionable. Talk drifted back to the dragon infirmary, to dragons still mending, to the subtle ache in Rasme’s shoulder and the stiffness Xu’ma hadn’t quite walked off. The world outside might be shifting - new faces in old roles, young dragons rising, alliances reshuffling - but here, over half-warm klah and shared fatigue, some things remained constant. And for now, that was enough.

Last updated on the June 8th 2025

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Klah First, Shade Second