Logs:Attempted Murder Bed
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| RL Date: 3 September, 2015 |
| Who: H'kon, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Southern Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del has another visitor! |
| Where: Guest Weyr, Southern Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Ienavi/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Nikalas/Mentions, Raija/Mentions, Val/Mentions |
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| Earlier in the day, K'zin was here with K'del's eldest three children; plainly, it wore the Weyrleader out, because he's been asleep ever since, with a healer to monitor his vitals, and Val-- good old Val-- to guard his back. It's evening at Southern, now, and as his rider wakes, Cadejoth has taken to the skies with Isyath, stretching his wings before his vigil continues. The fellis haze has receded enough to allow K'del relatively clear-headed wakefulness, and thus visitors-- as the bronze will share to anyone who asks-- are welcome; he may not be able to sit up, and laying on his stomach may be awkward for talking to people, but it works. « Cadejoth! » It's Arekoth, of course, that big round voice, that arctic chill. « Weyrleader again. Sly. » Requests and permission, presumably, had been traded prior to their arrival. Arekoth doesn't fully settle his wings upon his landing, though he's still enough for H'kon to dismount. He doesn't launch back into the sky, either. There are surroundings to take in, first. H'kon passes Val with the usual brownrider nodding, and moves into the room slowly. Surely K'del knows he's coming, but still. "Weyrleader." With a twitch of an eyebrow, and a pause before approaching. « I've got the moves, » is Cadejoth's remark, smug, but underlaid by that constant tension: his rider, his absence from his mate, his... all of this. "Wingsecond," is K'del's answer, made before the bronzerider has actually adjusted his position-- carefully, so very carefully-- to allow him to look at the brownrider. He's shirtless, but at least there's a bandage covering the wound; he's pale, otherwise, and though his gaze is relatively steady, there's still a lingering suggestion of not-quite-all-there. "H'kon. Welcome to my sick bed. Promise it's not my death bed, whatever rumours have been going around." "This was not a matter of concern to me," offers H'kon as he strides forward. Little, quick strides, as effecient as leg length will allow. "Madilla provides me an ear to more credible sources." The perks of weyrmating a healer. "Would stabbing be classified a sickness?" he wonders next, with great seriousness. Which doesn't mean it wasn't an attempt at a joke, and yet. "The healer gossip network; of course." K'del's smile is more weary than broad for that, but it is a smile nonetheless. There's a chair, positioned so as to be easy for the immobile bronzerider to look at. "Would 'attempted murder bed' be more appropriate?" So dry. "Or perhaps that's jumping ahead... 'assaulted with a sharp weapon bed'? Not at my best, but I'm pretty sure those are both kind of clunky." "Attempted murder bed," muses H'kon. He moves for that chair, and tries to give K'del a smile, though of course, it looks hugely uncomfortable. "I can think of at least two harpers who would disapprove. Likewise of the other." He leans back in that chair once he's sat, and his eyebrows draw together. "What all do you recall, of it?" Don't worry, H'kon. It's pretty uncomfortable for K'del, too, and not just because he has a hole in his back. Who wants to meet with people and chat when one is presumably effectively naked beneath the sheet that only comes up as far as one's lower back? "Harpers," he says, with a wry little laugh. "To be honest? Not a lot. There was a crowd, and they were getting heated; there'd been a murder, after all, of their hold's heir. And half the riders I'd sent for had left again to go chase Niahvth, and the holders weren't happy and then... can't even tell you if Cadejoth caught first, or if it all happened at once. That didn't help; it was distracting." To say the least. "Distracting," says H'kon, flatly, "is one word." Not that his situation, all those turns ago, was quite the same as K'del's is now. And yet. The brownrider is nodding, however. "Who all was present? A gathered crowd, or was access to the body restricted? Do you recall if the numbers changed from before Niahvth rose?" The curve of K'del's mouth answers that first comment, acknowledging it without comment. "They were trying to keep the crowd back, but people kept coming forward. Curiosity, I guess. And upset, anger; Ienavi wasn't helping anything, or her mother. Seems like... not sure if there were more people so much as they were more agitated. Pushing closer to us. The aim had been to get a tour, look around, that kind of thing." The corner of H'kon's mouth pulls sideways at the mention of Ienavi. "And someone took advantage of the situation. More so when the dragons disappeared. One must wonder if they would have done likewise, had there been no flight." He tilts his head. "Was there blame being placed on the Weyr at all, for the murder?" It's difficult for K'del to nod, with his head on a pillow and all, but there's the suggestion of it in his expression nonetheless. "There was... unrest. We'd been doing extra sweeps, remember, after those fields burnt. 'Blame' is maybe not the correct word." "Hmm." Says H'kon. "So not us as the actors, but as those who allowed out." It's an assumption, and he leaves a bit of space, lest he require correcting, before the next question: "Was Farideh near you at the time?" "Yes," agrees K'del. "Not our place to guard people, as such, so much as to watch for trouble, but..." Sometimes, the two are too close for comfort. "She was right next to me. Pretty sure I bled all over her, probably. It was-- glad it was me, and not her. Don't know if it was because of the flight... surely, they couldn't know Cadejoth was in a position to win." "Not unless one were a rider with a dragon present at High Reaches," says H'kon. "But that requires... a certain temperament." H'kon shakes his head. "No." He brings a hand to rub at the stubble over his chin. "Nothing of note since your arrival here?" "Can't believe... to try and kill a dragonrider, as a dragonrider." K'del's plainly troubled by the idea and shakes it off as best he can, dismissing the possibility. "Been utterly quiet," he reports. "Pretty sure Val is bored off her nut, except that one thing I can still do is play dice." Sort of. "Could be I was just a convenient target. Didn't have personal guards around me, like Aughan and Ienavi did." "Not that it hasn't happened before." It's a quiet reminder. "But in this situation it seems the more unlikely." H'kon hasn't stopped rubbing at his chin, although has probably at this point forgotten that he's, in fact, doing it. "Do you think there was unrest enough that an unclaimed act might carry a statement? I can't imagine it would speak anything to the Hold, though surely there are elements I do not know of their politics. It calls to the Weyr. Or it is purely frustration." Which may be what K'del just said, but now H'kon's said it out loud and bigger. It's a reminder that draws solemnity from the weyrleader, though his acknowledgement of that second remark is there, too. "It's possible," supposes the bronzerider, hesitatingly. "Could be an act against Greenfields itself, perhaps seeking to earn Weyr retribution. Vendetta against the holders? Don't know." H'kon dips his head, and finally lets his hand fall away from his chin. "That would make more sense. To some extent. Or something beyond it..." H'kon's lips press together, then. He leans back in his chair, enough that the front legs think of coming up, before he remembers himself. "At any rate. If there's anything you would have of us. I will speak to Mielline, of course, but... thought it right to offer to you also. Arekoth and I can travel, if required." Maybe K'del can't see that frown past his feet or something. "Keep an eye out," is K'del's instruction, said simply. "At Greenfields, at the Weyr. Keep your ear to the ground. You..." He manages a difficult nod, acknowledging the brownrider, as if to say 'I trust you.' "Let me know anything you hear. Disquiet, whatever. Not sure anyone is really going to keep me informed while I'm stuck here." "Hm," is acknowledgement. Agreement. Aye sir. All those things. "Cadejoth can find Arekoth, if he should need, of course." He's nearly to standing, but hesitates, half in and half out of that chair. "Are you... well enough, otherwise, K'del?" Not that H'kon could possibly be offering to keep the bronzerider company. Surely. Surely not. Surely. K'del hesitates, and then, yes, there's the glimmer of a smile about his mouth and eyes. "Bored," he says. "Sore. High as a kite half the time, and struggling with pain the rest." It's only a slight exaggeration. "But I'll heal. Good to have time with the family. How is your family?" 'Bored' may have been an understatement. It could be desperation. "Mmm. Can Cadejoth help with that? Arekoth..." he tongues at a tooth, trying to think of an apt description. "Can," is not a powerful ending. "It helps somewhat." There's a nod for that, and something even almost sympathetic that touches the brownrider's face. "I imagine. Strange, for a confirmed weyrleader, but." It's a gruff nod to go with it, though whether that's approval or not will surely be hard to read. "Growing. Dilan will be able to stand soon, now. Raija is writing. Small things." "Somewhat," is K'del's answer, though it holds in it a more complicated note, one he doesn't explain. "Small things," is more thoughtful, but pleased, somehow. "It's the small things that count. It's one nice thing about being here, to be there for things. My eldest two were very pleased to tell me that they'd be old enough to stand for Cadejoth's clutch. It's a... strange feeling. For them to be so old." Whoever says H'kon doesn't have tact ought well know that he makes no comment or prediction about the clutch itself. "I have found children grow quickly," is what he does say. "Dragons, also, except they truly do." Another attempted smile. Company. "Shells, yes," says K'del, with a laugh. "Swear you could see Cadejoth grow in front of your eyes, when he was little. And now... the boys and Yvalia gave him a good oil earlier, at least. He's not being neglected." Physically. Poor Cadejoth. It's not much longer before the bronzerider begins to wilt; not much longer after that before the healer is there again, to deliver another dose of pain medication, and to send H'kon on his way. Injured Weyrleaders, it seems, need their rest. K'del will. If he can possibly help it. |
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