Logs:A Deal Is Made
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| RL Date: 24 May, 2012 |
| Who: Ali, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ali returns to K'del with confirmation on their deal. |
| Where: Snake's Head Oasis, Igen Desert |
| When: Month 11, Turn 28 |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions |
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| Snake's Head Oasis, Igen Desert The rock that gives this oasis its name juts up at an angle from the sand, rounded by centuries of wind and scoured smooth by sandstorms, twin columns like fangs propping it up and a small shady hollow creating the 'mouth' of the gigantic tunnelsnake head. Scars across the 'nose' show that it was once, and may still be, a favoured lounging spot of visiting dragons. There is not much to reveal this cluster of stones as an oasis, a few clumps of tough, saw-like grass of a dull yellow-green colour that blends in remarkably well. Within the centre of this shelter, protected for the most part from the wind, a small shelf of stone mere inches off the ground is hollowed out towards the back, a tiny hole all that allows the water from the underground reservoir to escape before it spills out onto the ground and is lost, back beneath the sand or to evaporation. At this spot only is there any true green, and one small twiggy bush that is sometimes covered with clusters of star-shaped flowers, white bordered by dark pink. On all sides the desert stretches out, dunes ever changing beneath the winds that lift and carry the sand, the small avalanches triggered by darting creatures.
Not even Ysavaeth can keep Cadejoth tethered to his Weyr forever, and Isyath's invitation comes at an opportune time. His longing is obvious, near tangible, even before her words add substance to the request: an excuse, if, in the end, he really needs one. « We come, » he promises, with a rattle of bones that holds a shiver of pleasure. It doesn't take long for the High Reachian pair to arrive, appearing high within the sky and then circling down towards the oasis. They have to fly past Isyath, of course, and Cadejoth's neck yearns towards her free flight, though he does his duty and winds down to a sand-swept landing. K'del dismounts, a hand lifted in greeting. There's a delighted, burbled greeting from the Fortian queen, who follows Cadejoth down in a spiral until the bronze lands: she sweeps along near to the ground again before soaring upwards, a glance over her shoulder and a teasing trail of sparkled light intended to draw the Reachian bronze skywards. "Fort's duties to High Reaches," Ali's rather more mindful of the niceties than the last time they met, although she looks a little more strained and ill-at-ease. "I hope you don't mind- given everything, it seemed best to meet somewhere out of the way." She gestures towards a rock, as if she were inviting the Weyrleader to take a seat in a comfortable chair. She glances up, once, at Isyath, then focuses on K'del. "I talked to... Fort's Weyrleader. About your offer." K'del has barely managed to put both feet firmly on the ground before Cadejoth is shooting off after Isyath, heedless of the straps still jangling around him as he takes to the air. Unbridled enthusiasm has him high above the oasis within moments, leaving his rider to glance upwards in a bemused kind of way before he turns his attention more formally onto Ali. "And High Reaches' to Fort. Hope things are-- well, there." Graciously, he settles himself at that rock, stretching out his legs in front of him and shading his eyes with one hand. "And what did your Weyrleader have to say in reply?" There's no reproach of the queen for her encouragement, certainly not from Ali, anyway. Here, the winds are unpredictable, and perhaps foreign enough to them both that neither has the advantage of home ground. Isyath's slowly rising path has her dipping and rising as she hits various pockets of thermals and winds, all the while sharing her enthusiasm with Cadejoth. Look how the wind twists those stirrings of dust high into the air, taunting them both and beckoning them higher. Ali can't quite hide the grimace - she's not that great and concealing her expression - and she doesn't seem quite able to coax up even a polite response as to Fort's status. Instead, she folds her fingers together, fixing attention on him. "He had some things to say about the- gall of such an idea." She makes a face, then presses on: "But he agreed to consider the proposal when you pitch it to the Weyr Council." Her gaze is downwards. She's not that good a liar, but she's trying hard to keep an even expression, her tendency to meekness perhaps for once assisting with such a duplicity. Cadejoth's no more familiar with these skies than Isyath is, and for all his attempts at speed, he's waylaid along the way. And anyway - who said he really has anywhere in particular he wants to go? There isn't, of course: this is just about the flying, and the sharing the sensations with Isyath at all times. K'del lets out a low sigh as soon as Ali starts talking; 'gall' is clearly not particularly enthusing him. Perhaps he's too distracted to really register her expression, or perhaps he takes it as her being uncomfortable with it not being a resounding yes; it's hard to tell. Finally, low: "Oh. Well - good. That's good. Considering it, that's all I asked for, right? Maybe it'll all work out." He sounds almost relieved. "I told him about your Weyrwoman, and-" Ali's looking up again, gesturing towards his arm- which she only just now notices is no longer in a cast. "He'll make up his own mind. I'd imagine that getting control of Boll again will help him think in a more... charitable light." She bites her lip, looking over at him- no political animal is she, to subtly remind him of that part of the deal- she just puts it out there, obviously. Isyath isn't getting much further than Cadejoth, but then, for once, she isn't attempting to win at all costs - this isn't her skies, nor his- so the challenge is merely in the flight itself, in the dizzying twists and the delighted, burbled joy of unadulterated flight. That reference to Boll makes K'del smile a crooked smile, as his hand - yes, that one that is no longer plaster-bound - lifts to run through his hair. "I'll speak to Lord Boll first thing tomorrow," he promises. "Thank you, Ali. For playing go-between. Don't really expect N'muir and I to be friends again anytime soon," and he looks rueful, for that, "but I hope we can come to respect each other. Ultimately." He turns his gaze from the goldrider, back towards the dragons above. Cadejoth is sweeping downwards, testing out a thermal with extravagant carelessly-- /this/, this is as it should be. As all things should be. "He isn't your biggest fan," Ali agrees with a certain level of honesty and wryness that is almost, oddly, relieved. "The Weyrwoman, neither, I think as much for your having flown in Issy's flight, as anything else." She chews her lower lip, glancing upwards a moment, then, "When do you think you'll... you know-?" Oust his Weyrwoman. She can't even say it aloud, and even thinking of it makes her fidget uncomfortably with the whole notion. K'del glances back, mouth twisting again in a way that almost signals amusement. "Can't really blame him," he admits. "Or her. Wish he hadn't gone after Isyath - I really am sorry about that. Shouldn't have happened. Cadejoth--" But he won't go so far as to shift the blame onto his lifemate alone, and instead just looks embarrassed. "Still, uh," he looks awkward. "Trying to build up support. Can't let it fail, you know? /Needs/ to work. Needs to." Letting out a low breath, he attempts to shift the subject, saying instead, "Isyath's clutch must be getting big now." "No, I-" Ali's flustered, uncomfortable, fiddling with the edges of the shawl that rests on her lap, her other hand resting loosely on it to prevent it being whisked away by the wind. "I'm told you don't always get a choice. Not wholly. You need not apologize." But even for all that, she's more than happy to move onto a safer subject, once she's rather fond of: "They're flying strong, now- just starting betweening lessons. I'd imagine they'll be far enough along to attend your hatching, if you'll have them." A pause, discomfort creeping into her expression. "Given- everything that's happened. They're still Reachian-sired, even if some would wish otherwise. I'd still like to attend, as well, if it wouldn't cause problems." Ali's so-obvious discomfort is all the more reason for K'del not to dwell on that particular subject; and he doesn't, only inclining his head forward the once to confirm what she's said. "You all have my personal invitation," he promises, with quiet firmness. "I'd rather see the links between our two weyrs repaired, as much as possible, and if that will help--" His gesture is expansive, welcoming, for all that this is not his weyr. "I'm sure they're all fine dragons, ridden by fine young men and women." The Fortian woman looks parts relieved, and partly pleased. "I would, too- you've all been incredibly nice to me. There's history, I think, that goes back further than you or I, so-" Ali exhales, turning to watch some of the sand sweep over the distant dunes, a smile lighting her features at his comment on their weyrlings. "They are. Even- even Lord Jivrain's grandson. He tries hard- he would've made a fine Holder, which, I'm sure, just galls the Lord Boll all the more. But the dragon chooses, even if he thinks it's some sort of play." She exhales. "But, you'll have your own soon enough." There's relief in K'del's expression, too, and the glance he aims sidelong at Ali contains a certain amount of warmth. "So it only makes sense," he concludes, in a quiet kind of way. Mention of Jivrain's grandson draws his teeth down onto his lower lip, turning his expression thoughtful for long moments before he lets out his breath and replies. "I feel sorry for him. Rock and a hard place, not really the life he's used to. 'least there's no Thread, I suppose." And yet. "Mmm. I'm looking forward to it. There's something so - comforting, somehow, about hatchings. All those changed lives, happy faces. Only a few sevens to go, I suspect. Iolene will be relieved, I'm sure." "I'm not really sure Impressing is easy for any of us," Ali says, catching her lower lip between her teeth. It wouldn't be a difficult leap to assume she might be speaking from personal experience- she even looks uneasy, fingers twisting into the material of the scarf before she rises. "Speaking of your clutch- I shouldn't keep you. Cadejoth seems a more paternal clutch father than Riuscyth was, as much as Issy's enjoying the company." Indeed, the Fortian queen's delight is almost a palpable thing, weaving up and down, around and sometimes under Cadejoth as the whimsy of the Igen thermals dictate. Again, K'del has a sidelong glance for Ali, and this time, his gaze lingers and his words delay, as though he's struggling to decide what to say to that. Her next words give him an out, albeit one he seems reluctant to pursue, at least at first. "Suppose not," he says, then, before rising towards his feet and dusting his trousers off. He stays where he is, though, rather than seeking Cadejoth out: still watching, still thoughtful. "She keeps him on a tight leash. He'd rather be out and about, but-- he's proud of them." A beat, and then, "Fort's lucky to have you, Ali. Hope your Weyrleaders are aware of that." Cadejoth's having far too much fun to be really willing to come back down - but oh, duty calls. Alas. He circles his way under Isyath, then over her, darting this way and that before finally he begins to make his way downwards, back to the solidity of the oasis and the desert around it. There's an unevenness to Ali's walk as she begins to lead the way out of the shelter of the rock, and it could be attributed to the brush of the wind, but the hunch of the goldrider's shoulders suggests it's nothing so straightforward as that. A bit of a hitch is in her voice as she says, "I'm not sure they'd agree with you, sir, but it's kind of you to say all the same." Isyath's joy in the flight means that she lingers in the air longer than Cadejoth, touching down finally with an air of reluctance, her burble of happy thoughts, and the /remembrance/ of the flight foremost in her thoughts. This time, there's no question of K'del picking up on those unspoken clues, and he frowns as he considers Ali, his breath sucking in cautiously before he finally speaks again. "Whatever they say," he tells her, quietly, "just remember that /you/ were the one who orchestrated the new deal with Lord Boll. Personally, I'd be proud of you. Proud to /have/ you." He finishes his words right as he reaches Cadejoth, one hand reaching up to press to pale hide that still thrums with enjoyment. "Clear skies, Ali. Perhaps we'll see you after the hatching." Far from bolstering her pride, the comment about brokering a deal has Ali shoulder-hunched, eased only by Isyath's presence, as she busies herself ensuring the queen's straps are appropriately tight. She doesn't say anything until K'del's already at Cadejoth's side, letting out a quiet, "Clear skies, Weyrleader." A few moments later, she's mounted and the gold's lifting up into the sky, disappearing a few dragonlength's upwards with a last, parting memory of stars trailing behind. |
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