A Breakdown in Communication

Writers: AL, Halyonix
Date Posted: 29th July 2025

Characters: Relea, Mirona
Description: Mirona confronts Relea.
Location: Green Valley Hold
Date: month 3, day 7 of Turn 12

Relea

Mirona had been rather successful in avoiding both Coran and his wife for the sevenday or so after the embarrassing incident, but Green Valley Hold was not a large place, and its lack of size worked against her. She could run from what happened, but only for so long.

She knew this. But still hated it when she turned the corner, and there she was. Pretty and golden. “You,” Mirona exhaled, frustrated that apparently now was the moment for them to see each other again.

Fortunately, Corlea was not with her. Taken to the Aunties to play with the other children, it left Relea free, and at the same time, that freedom burdened her. Her heart ached with the pain of the last turn, and that ache only flared when she spied the woman with whom Corlan had been dancing that fateful night that she returned.

She couldn’t hear the word the woman spoke, but Relea could read her lips just fine. What good would talking do? She could not speak in the same way, and she highly doubted Mirona knew how to sign. Glancing around, Relea decided to at least be decent and inclined her head in a silent but polite greeting.

“Is that--” Mirona started to say, letting her anger momentarily lead. But then she remembered that night and how the woman had spoken with her hands, not her voice. She exhaled. “This might not work at all,” she said softly. Or could it? Unless Mirona decided to uproot herself again, she was going to be running into Relea often. Should she fall into the habit of being spiteful and catty? She could at least try to find out _why_ Relea hadn’t signed the divorce papers.

“Can you read?” Mirona asked, an idea coming to her, but she still had no idea if Relea could even understand her.

Again, Relea inclined her head, affirming that she could, indeed, read Mirona’s lips. That skill was born out of necessity, for more people had know knowledge of sign than did. For a long time, she had very few in the world who could speak her language. That world had expanded a little, but as a whole, she relied on watching people’s mouths. She’d gotten to the point she could even tell when someone spoke with a different accent.

Thinking that Mirona might have found a way to communicate, she motioned for Relea to follow her into one of the nearby rooms that was usually used for instruction. She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled quickly: “Why didn’t you sign the divorce papers?”

It was then that Relea realised when Mirona said ‘read’ she’d meant the written word. Of course, Relea could read, and had, in fact, used that method to communicate with others in the wider world. At one time, she carried a stylus and board with her at all times. After marrying Coran, the family made efforts to learn her language. At the Weyr, others, too, had adapted. Often, she had her daughter or someone else to interpret for her and had gotten out of the practice of carrying writing implements. Hesitating, she took up the pen, her words writing out in an elegant, flowing script. “Divorce is not something to jump into lightly.” She paused, then added, “I wasn’t ready to give up on our marriage.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell hi--argh,” Mirona said, out of habit falling into audible speech before writing it all out so that Relea could read. She added a “why?” at the end of her query.

At the statement and the following question, Relea frowned. If she had the ability to speak, the conversation would have flowed more smoothly and ended more quickly. Alas, Mirona had no knowledge of sign, so they were stuck with more archaic means. Taking up the quill, she etched out an answer. “I needed to think on the decision. It is not something to do lightly. The Harper Hall sends out a notice of final dissolution. He should have known I did not sign the documents since he did not receive notification. Regardless, I did write, but I received no replies.”

Mirona scowled. So there was something to the story that she was missing? Why would Coran not respond? With her arms crossed over her chest, she took a moment to pace and think. Initially, she had been working towards becoming more valuable to the Hold, leveraging her meager skills and healthy ambition to raise her rank. She had thought she would use an angle with Coran -- maybe even a real romance -- to continue with that. She had to think of her son and the stability needed for him now. She couldn’t flit around like she had at the Weyr.

Relea’s return cut off the romantic approach entirely. Mirona could adjust to that, though. She didn’t need a man to make a new life for herself. In fact, it would be a refreshing challenge to rise up without one.

Mirona paced for a moment more, mulling it over. How did she want to do this? It was a small Hold. She could not make an enemy of someone, especially someone attached to Coran. She was still angry that he had neglected to tell her all of this, but she would have to work through that with him.

She went back over to the paper. “I won’t stand in your way,” she wrote angrily, in big letters. “But don’t get in mine. I have to think about my son. His needs. I won’t be a drudge.”

The words didn’t make any sense to her, and Relea’s frown returned as she read them. Casting a glance over at the woman, she leaned down to make another response of her own. “Why would I get in your way?”

Mirona scowled thoughtfully. Then she straightened her stance with quiet pride. “Because Coran was courting me. And I’m not going to fight you for him,” she wrote quickly. “I don’t want to be your enemy,” she added. It was a small Hold. If she was at odds with this woman, it would do no one any good.

For a moment, Relea didn’t reply. At first, she had wanted to kick and scream and cry, but Mirona’s reaction wasn’t of someone who intentionally sought to lead her husband astray. It was the reaction of someone who truly hadn’t known. Since Coran hadn’t the decency to think, either before he had his affair, or about the very fact he hadn’t received word on a divorce, she couldn’t blame Mirona, even if she wanted to. It wasn’t the woman’s fault, and it would serve no purpose to blame someone who was truly blameless. Both of them had suffered because of him. Taking a deep breath, she nodded, then wrote another message. “I don’t hold any ill will toward you.” Toward the person at the Weyr? Absolutely. Toward Mirona? No. Not unless she actively tried to come between them. Of course, if Coran allowed someone to do that a second time, he would not get any further chances.

In harper tales, this would be the point in the story where the two women professed their undying friendship or something unrealistic. Mirona read the message twice as she pondered her next move. She eventually decided that she would have to think about it. “Thank you,” she scribbled. “Good luck with him.” Another pause, and then, as a gesture of good will, she added, “And good luck with the baby.”

Relea nodded. If anything, Mirona was as much a victim as she was. Although it gave them something in common, it was not enough to establish more than a thin thread between them. Instead, she was happy to remain at a distance. Her focus couldn’t be on anyone but her husband and her children.

Well, that was probably the best she was going to get. Mirona nodded back at Relea and then went to leave.

Last updated on the September 2nd 2025

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A Breakdown in Communication