Logs:'Congratulations'
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| RL Date: 9 April, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Taikrin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Taikrin wants to 'congratulate' K'del. It goes... surprisingly, less badly than might seem likely. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 6, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, F'manis/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions |
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| There's no subtlety to Szadath. There never has been, but now that he's got the force of queens and a sizeable chunk of the Weyr behind him, there is substantially more oomph to his sudden presence. « Cadejoth. » There's hints of the others in his booming echoes-- is that waves? Drum-beats? Or just the noise he has always had, amplified? « Will you join us. » It's not a question, but not QUITE a demand, either, for their presence. And where? The flash of images should be terribly familiar-- the squat brown crouched on the weyrleader's ledge, and his rider perched at the weyrleader's desk with the weyrleader's paperwork in the weyrleader's weyr. (To Cadejoth from Szadath) Cadejoth is a long way away, somewhere distant. Doing... something. He acknowledges that oomph in a lazy kind of way, with a rattle and shake that pays only cursory attention; he does not recognise the brown's authority, though the queens do still have his innate respect. « When we have time, » is his answer. « When we are home and able to do so. » Perhaps in an hour or two. (To Szadath from Cadejoth) There's a swell in the echoes, a burst of acrid smoke, and then-- it subsides. « When you return. » He severs the connection, but imperfectly; the thoughts that bleed through are filled with the nearness of gold, one muzzily seen-- Hraedhyth? Perhaps. He can be busy, too. (To Cadejoth from Szadath) Fine then. (To Szadath from Cadejoth) Weyrleader's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr As low to the ground as this ledge is, the view it affords is not an especially spectacular one, simply the bowl spread out in front of it, still some distance down. The ledge itself is a large one, easily big enough for a full grown queen and at least one, if not two, others, the stone worn smooth by turns and turns of steady use. A brocade curtain shelters the inner caverns from the outside. Rank certainly has its privileges, and among them are amply appointed apartments. The short flight of stairs from the Weyrleader's Complex opens up into the larger of two chambers, formally decorated and clearly designed to cater as much to important guests as the occupant's personal living. Old, but obviously expensive, llama wool rugs dyed blue-and-black cover the stone floor, leading towards the second chamber, the stairs, and the rush-filled dragon couch and ledge beyond it. A formal seating arrangement - a sofa and chairs, all blue-and-black - sits around a large, tiled fireplace, whilst along the other wall, a finely made, if now somewhat antique, desk sits between a bookshelf and a tall cupboard to which tack-hooks have been attached, riding gear arranged neatly inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendour for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside. The inner weyr, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area, is smaller and cosier and distinctly less ostentatious. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels. Whenever K'del does arrive, there's no sign of any gold on the ledge if there ever was one-- only Szadath hulks there. Alone. And watching. Cadejoth drops his rider off out in the bowl, rather than gracing the ledge with his presence-- though they're in full view of the ledge, certainly. K'del is casually dressed, and dirty, and seems perfectly comfortable with the state, meandering around through the Weyrleader's Complex and up the stairs into the Weyr that used to be his (the Weyr he probably hasn't been in in a turn or more-- the Weyr his girlfriend died in). "Taikrin," he drawls, as he enters. When he arrives, Taikrin is sprawled oh-so-casually across the couch, boots and all. She's making a pretense of reading something or other, and her movements are slow with unconcern when K'del finds his way inside. "K'del," she offers back. She sits up, but doesn't stand, and instead waves him further in and towards a seat. "Hope I didn't catch you busy with your wing," she adds, as if this were all perfectly normal. "Been meaning to catch you but, well. I'm sure you know how it is." Her broad smile is nice enough, for Taikrin, but it's also full of knowing. K'del is not a terribly good actor, but he makes a relatively good show of it, as he enters: tracking mud into the floors, and onto the carpets, and sitting down in the indicated chair quite as if he doesn't have a care in the world. "Oh no," he says. "No, we were... elsewhere. Doing other things. You know how it is." He drapes his arms lazily over the edges of the chair, brows lifting: well? Nobody can say Taikrin hasn't improved her skills in those weeks and weeks of gritting her teeth and bearing the comments and doubts. She's not so good that many people won't notice the little lines of tightness that give her away, but she's not as bad as she once was. "Wanted to congratulate you," she offers with a flash of toothy smile. "Taiga can use a strong wingsecond. All of the wings could use a little strength right about now, I reckon-- gone a little Interval-soft. Nothing like seeing weyrlings run drills to put it in perspective, yeah?" "Well," says K'del. "Some of us get our positions through honest methods, of course." It's said quite casually, without even a meaningful glance to try and push it into darker territory. For now, he can take this conversation as it comes. "As far as I can see it, the Wings are all doing fine. Unless of course you intend for us all to employ your... interesting philosophies?" "Some of us do," Taikrin agrees amiably, though the teeth in her smile intend to turn it right back on him. "I know it's hard to see from your new vantage, but really-- if Thread started falling tomorrow, I reckon we'd be down a dozen dragons too fat to get between in-time. Faranth only knows when the last time was we all of us drilled together as a Weyr. After all, we're all one Weyr ain't we? All wings bound together to serve the good of the queens?" Wolfish. This is the term to describe the way Taikrin is looking at K'del. "Are we? Funny." K'del doesn't squirm. He barely twitches. "Find it a bit hard to believe, sometimes. Seems like too many people are just out to serve themselves. Perhaps my perspective, as you say, is a little different to yours. Too different." "Reckon you're right. Too many people out to serve themselves, keep their lives soft and easy. Too many people forget about how we're nothing without our queens. Nobody rules the queens but the queens!" Despite herself, Taikrin manages to get herself worked up into a pink-cheeked huff. She reins herself back in, but only just. "Mean to remind people of that. Reckon F'manis'll fill you in on the details after tomorrow's meeting." "Well," says K'del, straightening, just slightly: he can't help himself. "No doubt it'll be easier once we have a senior queen, and a Weyrleader. It's always easier, when matters are settled." His fingers, clearly itching to do something, scratch at the dirty legs of his trousers. Wearily, "What do you want, Taikrin? Fucked if I care, but I'd rather get back to things that actually matter." It almost -- ALMOST! -- gets her. Taikrin gives a jerk and her mouth opens to hotly refute the claim-- and then closes again. It's only because K'del has cracked first that she manages to say with some semblance of calm, "In a couple of turns, maybe it will be. 'Til then, Aishani and me will take care of things. Cut the fat off the dragons." Beat. "Been a while since we talked. Like I said, I wanted to congratulate you. Making sure I take good care of all of my wingleaders and seconds, you know?" Maybe there's a little smug in her voice. Okay, more than a little. Meanwhile, outside, Szadath has gone from his ledge to go and murder things in the feeding grounds. He's not so much feeding as he is shredding viscera. "The pair of criminals. Of course." K'del aims to sound lazy with that, but he doesn't quite manage it. Actually, he's looking increasingly uncomfortable, and equally as though he's doing his absolute best to hide it. "How kind of you. Always knew you were a sweet and caring woman, Taikrin. Will you rub my feet, too? Kiss my booboos?" His tone is tired. "Believe it or not, I'm a busy man." "Who best to know how to steer the Weyr away from the dark ways of the world? Maybe a few more of us might can protect our queens better'n we have been." She's in control again, more or less, but now Taikrin is watching K'del so intently that she's leaned her entire body forward off the back of the couch. "Aishani and Azaylia are the sweet and carings. I'm the protector. The ass-kicker, when it needs kicking. Keep you all safe and sound, yeah?" Watch K'del choke. "Aishani, sweet and caring? That's a new one." Yes, he twitched at mention of protecting queens. Yes, he's uncomfortable. But he's settling back in his chair, now, all the better to look perfectly at ease, as if his gaze isn't sliding around this weyr-that-used-to-be-his. "Such a diplomat. Make sure and take that attitude to meetings with Lady Edeline. Oh - better yet, Lord Aughan. Know they'll appreciate it. Bravo. Terribly professional of you." "Do what I gotta do. We ain't gonna end up like some of those other Weyrs, begging our Holds to come back and pretty please pay their rightful tithes. But-- reckon it's not a thing you got to worry too much about." Taikrin leans back in her seat and deliberately tears her intent gaze off of K'del, though with visible effort. "Got things to do, myself. You're dismissed." It's so very, very hard for her to stay looking fixedly at the record she'd discarded and to not do more than peek at the bronzerider from the corner of her eye. "Oh," says K'del. "But I'm quite comfortable. Thought, you know, maybe I could offer you some advice? After all, I spent more than a decade in this Weyr." Sort of. "The bath leaks. And there's a broken til-- well, you'll have found that." He stands, but it's obvious he has no intention of actually leaving, just yet. "You're not worried about Tillek? I would be. They're likely to pull a Boll on you, if you don't handle the situation with delicacy. Edeline's sensitive. Well, she would be, wouldn't she? But you'd know that." Being on top of everything. "Holder-women do tend to be fragile about their children," Taikrin agrees slowly. Her smile is a little less broad about having to look up at K'del. "So kind of you to share your wisdom." The tone of her voice implies just the opposite. "Reckon it would've been nicer still, months ago, when I was still learning the ropes. Then again, poor Aishani and Azaylia ain't got nobody to learn from, so. My pa used to say: waste not, want not." It's finally too much for her, and she has to rise on the pretense of stretching out her back. "Then again, my pa used to also say: when I want an opinion, I'll beat it out of you." She smiles, like it's a funny joke she's baring all those teeth at. "They're the ones that let Lujayn transfer away," says K'del, coolly. "What are you trying to say, Taikrin? Clearly, you don't want my opinion, so there will be no beatings." But he's not leaving. No - he's meandering around the weyr quite as if he owns it. "Have you sorted out your wings, yet? The things I hear them say about you! Well - can you blame them? No one likes to be ordered around like that. At least you're squashing the rebellion out of them. A powerful fist; that's the way to do it. Smash them down. That's the way to win loyalty and respect." Outside, in the feeding grounds, Szadath viciously shreds another cow into pieces. Taikrin does her best not to follow after K'del, but the forced inaction has her cycling her hands from across her chest, to her hips, to pressing hard against the back of the couch she's come to stand behind. "I would've taken it, freely offered, from you. From any of you, if you could've got over the size of your dicks for the good of the Weyr." That, of all the things she's said today, rings of honesty. And of bitterness. "When you remember we're here for the good of the queens and not for the good of the bronze's poor feelings we can talk again." Her fingers are clutching tighter and tighter into the fabric. "'Til then, we're done. I expect to see you and Taiga at drills, day after tomorrow." K'del turns on his heel, this time to stare at Taikrin. "We're here for the good of the Weyr. Fuck the queens. They serve the Weyr, too. We all do. And until you people can realise that..." He's scornful of her hurt feelings, eyes rolling. "You're just a puffed up brownrider with pretensions of grandeur. You've no idea what it takes to run this Weyr. We just better hope you never need to actually step up to anything important." He will leave, though, turning his steps towards the exit, every movement of his body utterly dismissive. "Taiga has drills of their own. We don't drill the day after tomorrow." Cadejoth may well be watching Szadath, because there's something quietly triumphant in the bronzerider's expression. Taikrin bites back her immediate retort, though only because K'del is leaving-- and because he is quite definitively out of reach of her clenched fists. She lets him go-- instead it is bloody Szadath who relays her last, and in him it is more threat than promise, especially with the undeniable hum of a queen's support behind him: « Day after tomorrow. » And so, K'del goes. « As you say, » is Cadejoth's reply. Which is not necessarily a promise. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 10 Apr 2013 06:36:04 GMT.
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Oh my gosh. So delicious it just has to be fattening. I LOVE it when Taikrin and K'del butt heads. Or... snipe at each other. XD Either way... Can't wait to see what comes of this~
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 10 Apr 2013 09:25:19 GMT.
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HooHoooo...ZING! DOUBLE Zing...and a triple score for the TRIPLE ZING! ;D
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