Should We Be Concerned? [OPEN]

[nineofswords]

Loud sounds were coming from Attolia's weyr. Shouting, getting increasingly loud, and increasingly infuriated. The odd swear was even able to be made out, which was odd coming from the usually poised, composed woman. The wher seemed to be intermittently broadcasting to everyone in the nearby weyrs as well, as if he was also enraged and unable to control his volume, but they were odd snatches of phrases that offered no further insight into the situation.

Then came a crashing sound, like something had been thrown. " --ridiculous!"

Would not have to be, if you --

Scrabbling sounds.

"Get back here, you forsking --"

-- claw walls!

Something was clearly going on in there, and no one was happy about it.

[FirebrandPhlox]

The commotion next door caused Chess to look up from the book she was reading. It was one of the ones N'ell had brought her, and though she didn't have much patience for the written word, being stuck in her weyr meant that she had absolutely nothing better to do than suffer through dull stories written on duller parchment.

Kichsk looked up from his napping spot too, his frustration of being awoken from his nap flooding Chess's mind. She pounded on the wall next to her head and shouted as loud as she could. Keep it down over there! Ah can't even hear myself think with that racket! If you don't shut up, Ah'll send my wher over there to make you shut up, I swear!" Kichsk snorted and glared at the wall where the noise was coming from, not offering any words of his own.

It was an empty threat, as both Chess and Kichsk were still confined to their weyr under house arrest, but she hoped her neighbor didn't know that and stopped causing a ruckus, whatever it was about.

[nineofswords]

The pair's attention snapped up at the sound of pounding on the walls as well as shouting. Attolia shot the wher a look. "We are not finished," she hissed, and stormed out of the room. Attolisk gave a lazy, luxurious stretch, and then followed along behind. "I don't need your help," she snarled at him.

Oh, not here to help, Attolisk assured her happily. Here for show.

Attolia heaved a sigh, then stopped at the door to her immediate neighbor on the side the banging had come from, startled to see guards posted at the door. Attolisk let out a laugh only he and his bond could share. Well well well. Look like you pissed off handler of wher who go rogue. Guess maybe you need my help after all.

Attolia grit her teeth, then raised her head to an imperious angle and flicked her hand dismissively at the guards. "Go stand at either end of the hall," she ordered them. "My bond and I wish to speak privately to your charge, and I will not have you listening in."

The guards protested that they weren't allowed to leave their posts and Attolia's eyes flashed. "Are you telling me that you're both so incompetent as guards that you can only keep a threat contained at its door, and cannot block its means of egress? Do I need to speak to the squadleaders about sending you back to the wherlingmaster to re-educate you in threat mitigation?" she asked in a voice like sharp ice. The guards rethought their position and moved off a ways as she'd ordered them to.

She rapped smartly on the door, more out of warning than courtesy, and swept into the other handler's room. Attolisk padded in after her silently, brushing against her as he curled his body protectively around her legs. Attolia's gaze was cool and steely. "I am curious how exactly you intend to have your wher shut us up," she said, her voice almost conversational but for a slightly hard edge to it. She smoothed the front of her dress. "It was an...interesting thing to hear from someone who is under house arrest for allowing her wher to go on a violent rampage through the lower caverns."

[FirebrandPhlox]

Chess sprung up from her chair as the door to her room opened. The commotion next door had stopped, but she didn't much appreciate someone barging their way into her room. She raised an eyebrow as a beautiful woman who looked like she had stepped out of a tapestry stepped into the weyr. Her wher was brilliantly colored, with a mix of pigmentation and patterns Chess had never seen on a wher before.

Damn, she knew how to make an entrance.

"Ah would have figured somethin' out!" Chess glared back at the intruder. Truly, she had made the threat without any plan or way to back up her words, but she didn't appreciate being made out to be a fool, like the woman seemed to be doing. She clenched her hands into fists. "And it's not like Ah wanted him to go off like that. We're still figurin' out this whole bond thing."

Kichsk let out a loud sigh as he rose to his feet and stood next to Chess. His eyes swirled with annoyance. He didn't care for the intrusion either, especially since the other handler had brought her wher with her.

"Who do ya think ya are, anyway? Makin' a big ol' racket then bargin' into people's rooms? Think yerself one of them fancy Holders or somethin'?" Chess sneered. The woman certainly looked the part, and Chess had no patience for Holders.

[nineofswords]

Attolia raised an eyebrow right back at Chess. The other woman hadn't come out swinging at the intrusion, which showed either a cooler head than Attolia had been lead to believe she possessed or else the woman was less quick to lash out when her private space was invaded than Attolia herself would've been. She'd remember that.

She kept her eyebrow raised at Chess's response. "So you didn't want him to go on a rampage, but you would have 'figured something out' for how to send him to shut us up? Have I understood that right?" She tilted her head at a slightly more imperious angle. "I should hope - for your sake at least, given the situation you currently find yourself in - that I have not understood you at all, as I do not take kindly to threats of any kind. I find them tiresome, as they are all too often overused. If someone is planning on doing something, it is better sense, I find, to simply do it." There was perhaps the implication of a threat in Attolia's own words, but phrased in such a way that Attolia felt rather confident that she could easily argue that she was being in no way hypocritical. "And perhaps if you find your wher so difficult to manage, you should be sent to the wherling barracks to refresh yourself on the basics," Attolia informed Chess with absolutely zero sympathy. While it was true that Attolisk was a handful, at least he didn't go on rampages, clawing at everyone in sight.

When Kichsk got up, Attolisk moved so that he was no longer touching Attolia and the large brown wher. Humans clearly in bad mood, he said conversationally. Why not let them yell, get out of their system and we take nap? Attolisk wasn't normally one for diffusing a situation, but he couldn't afford a fight in a room this cramped. Attolia would get hurt if it came to blows between him and Kichsk, and it wasn't worth it for Attolia taking her bad mood out on a neighbor. Attolia harmless. Might even be funny, watching humans try to solve fight without us.

"Silence," Attolia hissed at him, then turned her attention back to Chess. "I should think it'd be quite obvious that since I am in a Weyr with a wher, I am a threadfighting wherhandler. I am not resistant to the ways of the Weyr, but I have little patience for people trying to dictate how I live my life or issuing threats when they believe themselves to be safely anonymous." She had far more pride than to allow that, after all.

[FirebrandPhlox]

Chess didn't take kindly to being scolded, especially by fancy ladies who marched into other people's rooms like the owned the place. This woman knew nothing about what she had been through, or what it was like to suddenly become so isolated in a new place. And Faranth, did she like to go on and on.

No hurt Chess. The brown growled at the intruders. Not nap until gone. He tilted his jaw forward, indicating Attolia and Attolisk. He made no indication he was going to attack though, and stood next to Chess at attention.

Chess had enough. She stomped up to the woman, shoving her face mere inches from the shorter woman's. "Ya spit a lot of hot air and know nothin' about me. Ah don't take kindly to that. And my threats ain't empty." In a split second, she swung her fist at Attolia's jaw, hoping to catch her unawares.

[nineofswords]

It Attolia could've read Chess' mind, she would've laughed in the other woman's face. Attolia had been alone for so long, had long since lost her reason to trust others. Even Attolisk was someone she did her best to keep at arm's length despite his best efforts. She'd been burned a few too many times, and between the wher's literal flame pattern and his fiery temper, she was still not sure how far she could trust him with her heart.

What she could see, however, was a little girl, crying in her room and throwing temper tantrums because she had been confined to her room. It was not not something Attolia had any respect nor patience for. If she had acted in such a way, she would've been home still, miserable, stuck in a loveless marriage. So she radiated her contempt.

Attolisk sighed at Kischsk's proclamation. Oh well. Attolisk tried. He lay down at his mistress's feet, apparently ready to take a nap, even going so far as to mostly close his eyes. He looked for all the world like a feline half asleep. But he was sitting upright and his eyes were cracked open just the slightest. No matter how relaxed he might appear, he was not yet ready to completely let his guard down until the brown did as well.

The only thing you are trying is my patience, Attolia snapped at him silently. What happened to being here for the show? Or are we boring you already?

Is early yet. First ballad barely sung. Big number yet to come, you see. Know you. And girl is very upset. Will be very dramatic fight. And I have front row seat.

"Ass," Attolia hissed through gritted teeth, losing her control enough that she didn't quite realize she'd spoken aloud.

And then Chess punched her. At Attolisk didn't so much as flinch. Attolia's anger flared hot and fast. The child had dared to touch her! And Attolisk hadn't done anything about it, for all of his big talk.

You walk in her den and talk down and expect what? Cookie? Attolisk snorted at her. He spoke aloud to the room. Nice hit, for human. That your freebie, since we invade. Do again, I start take offense.

Attolia was seeing red. She had been punched in the face like this was some kind of common bar room brawl. There was only one real way to save face to such a grievous insult and still maintain her decorum, and it was by slapping this misbehaving child across the face. She shifted, beginning to do so, when Attolisk stretched out at her feet, looking for all the world like a languid cat, but knocking Attolia off balance as he did so. None that, he told Attolia. No provoke further. She angry enough, and would hate you to get another bruise. Your words more than sharp enough.

Attolia let out a noise of disgust at the wher, but turned furious eyes back to Chess. "Very well. So your threats are not empty. I will certainly keep that in mind." She slowly rose herself up to her full, uninspiring height, a height which was dwarfed by her sense of pride. "I hope you are aware, then, that I am not a woman who can afford to make empty threats either. I do not have the money, the status, nor the physical prowess or..." she looked Chess up and down with the most dismissive expression she could muster, "...the enthusiasm to make up for it in a fight. My wher is small by comparison to other such creatures. So when I say that I will not hesitate to bring your continued violence to the attention of the Weyr's leadership should you strike me again, know that it is no exaggeration, no hot air, but a reality as tangible as the bruise that will begin to develop on my face before long. So." She flared her skirts, then ran her hands down them, smoothing them. "Would you perhaps like to talk in a civilized manner, or shall I go and we continue shouting through walls like sailors in a storm?" She tilted her head. "You have perhaps...heard things I would be loathe to be repeated. You have done things I'm sure you would rather not leave this room. I happen to find it more pleasant when I know the nature of the person holding me hostage. As our hostage of each other is now apparently mutual, perhaps we ought to get to know one another a touch better?"

Attolisk radiated pleasure, though he was not so much a fool as to commend her for trying to make friends. He knew she would not take it well and would flee the room prematurely if he did.

[FirebrandPhlox]

Oh, it felt good to get a nice solid hit against Attolia's flapping jaw. Chess had put months worth of frustration into her swing, and it connected as well as she hoped it would. There was a feisty glint in her eye as she saw the fancy little lady go to retaliate, before her wher stopped her from swinging. Chess felt a cloud of disappointment that she wouldn't get to blow off more steam by fighting the intruder.

Careful. Kichsk warned. Fight much, get us stuck here longer. He was still eyeing the strange wher who seemed to not have a care in the world as the women fought each other. Kichsk didn't know what to make of the chatty fellow, but he seemed intent on not letting the violence escalate. Carefully, keeping his eyes on Attolisk, Kichsk settled into a seated position next to Chess. If his handler was going to blows with the woman, he wouldn't interfere in a human fight unless needed.

Kichsk's words, followed by Attolia's threats, made the reality of what Chess had done start to sink in with her. "Oh shards. Ah didn't think about gettin' into more trouble with all this," she said as she shook out her punching hand. Attolia had a solid jaw, probably from all her yapping. "Ah'll keep quiet about all this and won't punch ya no more if you keep this to yerself. That's what yer gettin' at with all the fancy talk, yeah?" Chess was trying to follow along with everything Attolia was saying, but Faranth could the woman go on and on.

"Ah'm Chess," she said, holding a hand out to shake, like her Daddy did when he met new folks. She tried to make her voice sound cheerful, but was cautious of the fancy lady and all her big words. "And that's Kichsk. Ya take a punch awful well..." she trailed off, waiting for the woman to give her name.

[nineofswords]

Attolia gave Chess a disapproving look when she said it hadn't occured to her that she could get into trouble. "You should start thinking your actions through a bit more carefully," Attolia advised. "Otherwise you are liable to land yourself in even more trouble down the road." She felt a little gratified to see that at least Chess striking her had hurt her hand as well. It would've been far better if she had broken her hand, but Attolia was not in fact made of stone, as much as she might like to act like she was.

Attolia blinked a few times when Chess repeated what Attolia had said in clarification. What are the odds, do you suppose, that she did not hear the bulk of our conversation? Attolia asked her wher silently.

High. Or else forget immediately, Attolisk responded. Do not think you have to worry. And should maybe keep words simple with her, unless crave repeating self.

"Yes you have the gist...I mean, you are correct, yes," Attolia said, trying to follow Attolisk's advice and keep her words as simple as she knew how to. "Attolia," she said, inclining her head in greeting, finishing Chess's sentence for her. She gestured at the small wher doing his best impression of an area rug. "Attolisk. And...thank you, I suppose. Attolisk has not been with me long, and so it was often...not good for me to show weakness of any kind." She gently touched her hand to her face. "But that still hurt a great deal, nonetheless. Where did you learn to fight?" She was trying to make small talk. With the woman who'd punched her. Because she didn't want her embarrassing (and loud) argument with Attolisk to leak out. This was her life now.

[FirebrandPhlox]

"Attolia, huh? That's a mighty pretty name! Suits a fancy lady like yerself," Chess said as she shook the tingles out of her hand one last time.

Kichsk snorted. It seemed that there would be no need for him to intervene. He slid from his sitting position into a full sprawl on the ground. He kept his head pointed towards the visitors, not trusting them fully enough to go back to his nap.

"Ah, my Pa taught me. Ya gotta be able to throw a punch or wrassle with the best of 'em when ya work on a ranch. Though maybe Ah'm gettin' soft sittin' in my room all day. Ya hardly flinched when Ah hit ya!" She guffawed loudly. It had been so long since anything remotely interesting had happened to her, she would take having a conversation with the fancy lady next door.

"Ya want me to show ya how to punch real good? Might be good to know in case yer runnin' yer mouth at someone else down the line." She spoke earnestly, a big smile on her face.

[nineofswords]

Attolia bristled slightly at Chess' compliment about her name. It was such an inane compliment, more a comment than anything else, and something utterly unrelated to Attolia herself or any of her own accomplishments. It had been something her parents had decided for her, like a potential husband. It was utterly ridiculous, even if she hadn't had the baggage around her parents that she did.

Attolisk just snorted derisively. Fancy lady? he asked, a mocking tone in his voice. Fishwife, more like. You know she likes throw inkpots at my head when angry?

"You say that like I ever have a chance of hitting you," she told him shortly, quickly getting her temper back in check thanks to Attolisk's comment. "He is far faster than he lets on, and he likes to shred my clothes and drag his claws down the walls of our room unprovoked."

Hey, only clothes shredding unprovoked, Attolisk protested, like that was reasonable. Claw walls when inkpot flies. Only fair.

Attolia nodded when Chess explained about her upbringing. "Well, I would certainly compare your strength to that of a herdbeast," she told the other woman. "I have trained myself not to flinch. It...is a weakness, and I cannot afford to show them." She paused. "Or rather, could not afford to show weakness. Before the Weyr. And...old habits die hard." The truth was she would rather most anything to appearing weak. It was part of what made Attolisk so infuriating. He could cut straight to her heart in a way no one else could, and it made him feel unbelievably dangerous to her.

Attolia opened her mouth to politely refuse Chess' offer - she wasn't a fighter, she didn't pretend to be, her weapon was words, there was little point in learning now - but Attolisk barked out a laugh. Forsk, would pay human marks to see Attolia throw punch. Then really will be fishwife! Privately to Attolia, he added, If she teach you, might start like you. Will be useful, yes, to have human like this in corner, instead of hit you again? Or worse, tell all about you?

He had a point. He made sense. It was self-serving, self-preserving, so she grit her teeth until she believed she could respond convincingly. "I would be...delighted...if you showed me," she managed. It came out so utterly deadpan that it would've been tantimount to a 'no' in more refined circles, but luckily ranches didn't follow the same rules. At least, Attolia had to assume they didn't.

[FirebrandPhlox]

Chess widened her eyes hearing that Attolia threw inkpots at her wher. Sure, she and Kichsk often didn't see eye to eye and had fought more than once, but they only ever shouted at each other. Neither had tried any kind of violence against their partner. She didn't ever want to actually hurt Kichsk, even with all the loneliness he had unintentionally forced upon her with his rampage.

"Well, ya certainly took that punch like a real fighter. Us ladies gotta be nice a strong, huh? Too soft and some man comes in thinkin' he owns ya when yer just tryin' to be civil. Ah wish Ah'd gotten a lot more punches in back home.

Maybe not tell whole story. Kichsk privately told Chess. Far from home, but don't want Maverick trouble.

When Attolia said she'd be willing to let Chess teach her, she broke into an even wider grin. Any trepidation was completely lost on Chess. She indeed, did not understand the subtleties of language within refined circles and instead took people at face value.

"Ya won't regret it! Ah'll show ya how to throw a punch so hard, they'll feel it all the way in Benden! Here, hold this." She shoved a pillow in Attolia's arms and took a fighting stance. "Get it in front of ya. Ah'll show ya a few times, then Ah'll hold the pillow and you can try." She was bouncing in her stance, eager and ready.

[nineofswords]

Attolia noticed when Chess' eyes widened at the ink pot thing. She knew people would take it the wrong way, which was why she didn't bring it up. But the wher didn't seem to care how other people took that, and she could also tell he wasn't trying to shame her when he brought it up. Why did Attolisk insist on trying to make her squirm at every turn? It was infuriating. She kept her mask firmly in place, but she was fuming on the inside.

Her stony expression softened just ever so slightly when Chess talked about needing to keep men from thinking they owned you, from thinking they could walk all over a woman just because she smiled. Men, it seemed, were the same wherever one went. "I find it interesting how in some respects you and I are very alike," she said softly.

That fancy lady speak for 'I also had deal with men being forskers', Attolisk added helpfully. Attolia really didn't seem to grasp that she could not be circumspect with this one, so he was more than happy to fulfill the role of interpreter in as blunt a manner as possible.

Attolia stifled a sigh when Chess' smile widened even further and she thrust a pillow into her hands. She eyed Chess who was clearly preparing herself, then eyed the pillow. The punch to her jaw was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn't entirely sure the pillow was going to do much. She moved it until it was as far away from her body as it was possible for her to hold it. "I believe I am ready," she said dubiously.

[FirebrandPhlox]

Chess shot Attolisk a grin, "Ah knew ya'd understand. Ah don't know much about fancy folk, but from what Ah hear, it's even worse fer the ladies in those circles than it is fer common folk like me. Forsking men!" She said with a chuckle.

Chess watched as Attolia held the pillow far away from her body. "Oh naw, that's not right, ya gotta hold it against yer body like this," she said, grabbing the pillow from the other woman. To show what she meant, she held the pillow against her own torso, gripping the sides tightly. "Ya hold it like this, otherwise Ah might accidentally knock the pillow outta yer hands and hit ya! And Ah promised Ah wouldn't hurt ya no more. Hold it proper like. If yer worried about gettin' hurt, Ah won't swing as hard as when Ah hit ya fer real. Ah'll just show ya the way ya gotta throw the punch. Gentle like."

She handed the pillow back to Attolia forcefully, still grinning. "Now hold it proper and Ah'll show ya how to deal with those forskers."

[nineofswords]

"It depends on what you mean by 'worse'," Attolia hedged. "But there seems to be a common thread among all men, yes, regardless of class or creed, where there will always be one who tries to take an inch of slack you give him and turn it into dragonlengths."

Which mean 'yeah, forskin men', Attolisk translated.

Attolia's face pinched slightly when Chess grabbed the pillow from her, telling her that she was holding it wrong. She didn't like to be wrong, and it struck her as absurd that there was a 'right' way and a 'wrong' way to hold a pillow to be punched. It seemed needlessly complicated, to her mind.

Attolisk pawed at her. Hurry up! he urged. Am bored, wanna see you try throw punch! Privately, he said: Dance has rules, yes? Think of like that. Can't really do 'wrong', but people will laugh if not do 'right'. Unless you want be laugh at?

Attolia raised an eyebrow at him. She hated being laughed at, and he knew that, and she knew he knew it, so it was clear he was goad her, albeit more gently than he bothered with most people. Still, she sighed and took the pillow back from Chess, holding it flush against herself. It would appear she had no other recourse but to...trust...this boisterous woman. It was not something she was used to, nor comfortable with. "Very well. Throw your punch, then." Every part of her tensed, expecting the blow to be as bad as the one to her jaw, whatever Chess had said. If this farce was the price of Chess' silence...so be it.