Logs:AU - Singleminded
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| RL Date: 8 November, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, R'sig, Y'rel |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: When H'kons have a purpose, and no distraction. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr and coverage area |
| When: Turn 33 or 34, in an alternate dimension or something. |
| Weather: Cloudy with a chance of doom. |
| Mentions: Madilla/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Rone/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Current TPs and certain characters exploited for my own purposes, and pushing the bounds of what is allowed, possibly. That's okay if it's an alternate dimension, right? Also, this whole thing is Leova's fault. |
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| "You're certain of this." H'kon narrowed his eyes at the young bronzerider, pressing his fingertips to the table standing between them. R'sig rolled his eyes. "Wasn't no rough wind that got us so turned around we didn't know which way was north." High Reaches, across the mountains. "They made good time." R'sig gave one short nod. "Tougher pass, but shorter. Guess theirs were up to it, more or less." "And Nabol still moving north." R'sig nodded again. "Then the talks have come to nothing." "Should've let us scramble them when we had the chance. Always said." H'kon glowered, and the younger rider held his tongue, though not without a hard glare. "See to it Unehrbrath does not gorge himself tonight." R'sig grunted what he could not speak outright to his wingsecond, and turned without salute. H'kon watched him go, and when the sound of his bootheels had faded, closed his eyes. More stability among the Holds, and the Conclave may have seen fit to follow another course of action - any course of action - rather than looking the other way when the Exile was removed, rather than hoping to placate Nabol with the now-headless High Reaches. Less caution on K'del's part, and Rone's militia may first have been disbanded before their number had grown to such a place that he was confident in removing the Exile and his relations. And now... There was a possibility that K'del was making progess with Tillek, that he might manage to spark something, but with the hold so far removed from the others, it seemed unlikely. High Reaches was setting itself up for disaster, and H'kon doubted Y'rel would convince them to turn around, not now, not with Nabol at their heels. He rubbed his temples. « Hal. » Koth. H'kon opened his eyes. « He's got tubers now. He's ready. » If only that were all that were needed. Perhaps he'd best save them, we can pelt these renegades from above. « Kavith says that would be a waste of perfectly good tubers. » Of course he does. H'kon pushed his chair back, and got to his feet. "I heard an entreaty from the Hold's steward today." Y'rel was conversational, lounging with his feet up on the chair next to his, speaking around a mouthful of tuber, the rest of the vegetable on a plate in his lap. H'kon sat across the table, straight-backed, half-ignoring the glass of water in his hands, waiting. "He was looking for assistance. Uniting our causes." The bronzerider split off another bit of food, scooped it onto his fork. His voice took a dramatic turn, deeper, when he mocked, "Crusading against the wrongs done to both Hold and Weyr by the rogue Nabol." H'kon shifted in his seat, and frowned at the still surface within his glass. "Avenging his Lord Holder at the Weyr's expense." Y'rel tilted his head. H'kon could feel the weight of the man's gaze upon him. "Our borders were breached, too. There are some who would have us punish the crimes committed within our walls." « Protect what's ours. » It is too late for that. H'kon rubbed tiredly at his temples once more. "High Reaches does not mean to take Rone captive. You know as well as I. They are seeking revenge." "Justified revenge." H'kon was growing tired of the way his wingleader was looking at him, trying to make whole what was separate. Or daring him to do so himself. "Justification for retribution does not mean it should be pursued." "Doesn't it, H'kon?" « Punch him. Punch him so hard tubers come out of his eyes. » "Our intervention needs to be impartial. Better yet if it is bloodless." And he'll need to be able to see when we do intervene." Y'rel was still watching him. "It is a dangerous precedent we are on the verge of setting." He wasn't sure his wingleader was satisfied with the answer, although the other man did turn his attention back to his tubers. "Still. Cruel thing. And all three of them." H'kon stared straight forward, focusing, seeing only Y'rel, only the present. "Murders are. And cruelty and wanton violence are not so far apart." Y'rel nodded, and had another bite. "Then I won't have to worry about you, if it's you finds Rone?" "You will not." That did seem to be enough. H'kon waited, gripping his water glass. He did not drink from it until Y'rel had turned the conversation to the task at hand. Only once he was back in the privacy of his own weyr, once he'd hung Arekoth's straps next to the small riding belt he'd made with Dilan, once he'd sat at the table that held the writing book he'd given first to his sister, and then again to Lilabet, did H'kon allow himself to think of them. He nursed a small tumbler of whiskey into the night, remembering, but no longer mourning, no longer raging. Y'rel would not need to worry about him. H'kon knew it even when he climbed into his bed, and reached out his arm to have it lay flat on the mattress, empty, cold, and smelling only of him. Arekoth was still a string drawn taut and plucked, moving so fast through H'kon's mind that he seemed three times as large and everywhere all at once, even once they were back to the Weyr. H'kon could not escape the moment. By the time he sought Y'rel and his captive, H'kon's recollection of the whole day was blurred, a mess of scattered holder forces and dragons in full array and arresting and detaining, all under the dome of Arekoth's crackling colours. He was coming upon the crafter complex when R'sig caught up to him, a wicked look about his face that reminded H'kon (uncomfortably) of his dragon. "Got some of them just held up on the fields still." The young bronzerider was breathing hard, but not out of breath. He and Unehrbrath could barely have returned. « He's not even at the pens yet. » Just got in, then. For a giddy moment, H'kon could picture R'sig jumping from his dragon midair. He looked at the ground, rather than the young man who'd fallen into step at his side. Arekoth crackled through his mind, and the ground seemed alive in yellow and green. "And this seemed secure to you?" "For the ones who rolled over? Fuck yeah. Say something about stew with meat in it, and they're all lining up and laying out their bed rolls." "Hm." H'kon had regained composure enough that he could look back to his wingrider after stepping into the complex. « Kavith says they're in one of the old journeymen rooms. » Arekoth's voice bordered on mockery. Better to keep him away from any would-be avengers. He turned down a hallway he knew well. The journeymen's rooms had been easily fortified, and the diminishing contingent of crafters following the murders and further tithing problems, had seen the space given with little resistance. At least the Weyr was reclaiming its space, now, lost before, and in so many ways. H'kon turned, trying a deep breath, trying to still himself and organise his thoughts into a report. "That's him in there, huh." R'sig was still at his elbow, words easy, expression hard. The younger rider tested a few fists, then flicked his fingers out, hands open and ready. When H'kon stepped forward, R'sig gave him room. He opened the door in time to see Y'rel's swing land square on Rone's jaw. It had clearly not been the first. No. H'kon barked, grabbing his wingleader's arm. Y'rel spun, and his arms were on H'kon's shoulders. The bronzerider was larger, had the longer reach, and his made H'kon stumble. His back hit the doorframe, then Y'rel lurched backwards. R'sig had him, one arm across their wingleader's chest, the other twisting their wingleader's elbow. H'kon was off balance only a moment. R'sig. He wanted to laugh. He barely heard Y'rel's yelling. « Rone. » "Rone." The holder was alarmingly quiet.He grabbed the man's shoulder, and pushed him back into the chair. Held him. "R'sig." Still grinning, the younger man looked from Y'rel to H'kon. "See Y'rel kept somewhere. Discreetly." When Rone tried to shrug off his hand, H'kon pressed down harder, dug his fingers in. Arekoth. « H'kon. » Have Cadejoth get K'del here. Now. There was much to be sorted before tempers could flare the more. |
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