Logs:Bland, Boring Goldrider
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| RL Date: 1 June, 2015 |
| Who: R'hin, Lilah |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin is caught in the process of leaving liquor. |
| Where: Lilah's Sanitized Watercolor Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
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| Autumn presents a crisp wind to the evening that settles at Fort, many finding their way indoors to settle in near heat and warmth. Lilah's weyr, however, seems abandoned, the light from the hearth protected from spilling out by dint of being so far into the rider's private quarters. The goldrider's presence is a subtle thing over the weyr that always looks somewhat sterile and empty; the faint sounds when she moves in the bath and the presence of a book lying like a stain in the middle of otherwise pristinely white bedding. Eliyaveith's presence is placed firmly in the hatching cavern by the flicker of flames and heat, joined by the zephyr winds that are not quite like a certain other bronze's, her wallow and ledge empty. Leiventh is subtle in his arrival, not one to showily announce his presence. His response to the watch dragon's challenge remains quiet enough to pass notice by the general dragon population, and his easily glide down towards the bowl near the junior queens ledges is one of someone who is here on a purpose. R'hin's boots crunch into the snow as he lands on the ground, pausing to unpack something from Leiventh's bags; the bronze stills, not even the presence of new-hatched dragons within the Weyr's consciousness stirring the bronze to curiosity. His rider walks evenly up the ledge, pace neither fast nor slow, but of one used to not drawing attention to himself; walking with a purpose but without hurry as he steps into Lilah's weyr. He stops just in the entrance, listening: he can hear, undoubtedly, but he doesn't announce himself. Instead, on the table, he sets a bottle of something, dark amber in color, pale gaze flickering around, before he turns on a heel. It isn't anything that R'hin or Leiventh does that draws Lilah from the depths of her weyr, but rather fate, if one believes in such. She is hungry; a drudge would normally deliver something to her weyr for her to eat during this time. She is still barefoot as she pads out into that main room, still tying off the silken sash of a white robe of the same silky textured fabric, her normally bright hair dark with damp. She stops cold in the entrance between her private quarters and the room, as soon as she catches sight of the foreigner, a moment's tension before she places him. And once she does, "R'hin" slips almost sharply past her lips before she has time to consider it. Even R'hin cannot hide that, for a second, he keeps going, considers pretending not to hear her and and walking out into the snow. But he does stop. "Lilah." If he's vexed by her presence, or at being caught it, at least, doesn't make its way into his voice, turning near the entrance to regard her with pale eyes. His gaze flickers towards the bottle, drawing her attention that way. Distracting her, or attempting to. She isn't distracted. Her dark gaze remains on R'hin, even as Lilah steps forward to get a better look at the man invading her weyr. Or attempting to sneak out. She doesn't speak first, the expectation in her gaze clearly seeking an explanation from him, first. Since R'hin seems to expect the explaination is obvious in his pointed look, he doesn't explain, though it probably just comes across as typically frustrating R'hinism. Instead, with somewhat of a grimace: "I'd meant to pass on High Reaches' condolences, but, we had the weyrlings with us," is what he says, instead. "Do pass on my sympathies to your Weyrleaders, though." "It would be harder still to pass on condolences without waiting to speak to me," counters Lilah back with a dry drawl of words, though bare feet take her towards that table gracefully instead of closer to the bronzerider. She reaches for that bottle, only a moment's flickered look given over the label before she moves to open it. She adds, however, "But, pass on Fort's duties for High Reaches' condolences. Any of the usual political shit that comes at a time like this. We are saddened by our loss, glad to hear that you share it with us, if there's anything you can do--." There's no label, but perhaps the hint of roughness on the glass to suggest there was one -- maybe he's protecting his source? The liquid inside is dark, sweet smelling. "Talking," R'hin says, while he watches her, amusement creeping into his voice, "Was never my problem." "I would beg to differ," retorts Lilah easily, wiggling the cork of the bottle free finally only to drop it onto the table carelessly, as if she doesn't keep her weyr pristine constantly, before reaching for a glass on the shelf. "But, go ahead. What is next, then? Should we toast to the health of the hatchlings that did Impress? Or pleasantries about the weather is always something to start any political discussion." It is almost catty, the way she offers, "It certainly has been wet. Quite the fall we're having." The look R'hin gives her can be fairly readily contributed as really? He doesn't seem apt to indulge her cattiness, instead moving towards her as she reaches for that glass, only to reach over her and snatch it away before she takes hold of it. "That drink," he says, with an amused glance down at her, "Is made to be drunk from the bottle." The narrowing of frustration in Lilah's gaze isn't likely entirely for having her glass taken away; a good portion could likely be attributed to not being indulged in that moment. It is almost rebelliously, if one can rebelliously do what they are told, that the goldrider lifts that bottle to her lips for a swig, her gaze remaining on R'hin as she does so. The liquid is smooth, going down, but there's no doubt it has a sharp afterbite, enough to make the eyes water and throat warm-to-burning. Good for cold weather, good for warming the belly, and, after a fashion, good for quickly drowning ones worries. R'hin definitely looks pleased, watching her silently as if waiting to see the effect the drink has her on. It isn't until the liquor is already burning halfway down her throat that Lilah breaks out into a series of coughs at the bite, despite every attempt to drink so challengingly. She recovers quickly, though, only the sting of tears still unshed in her eyes as she sets the bottle back down on the table. "There," she enunciates. "You offered all the political words, I've accepted, we shared a drink. Despite the fact, I'm sure, that you know K'del could have done the same." "You had a drink. We didn't share one yet," R'hin corrects. He lifts the bottle as she puts it down, holding it up to the light, lips twisting as if disappointed by the amount she's imbibed. "That's not why I came, and you know it," he chides, giving her a look. "Don't play stupid, Lilah. It doesn't become you." "No, you didn't come to see me at all. Wouldn't you rather I had played blind?" challenges Lilah, dismissing that chiding with a tilt of her chin upwards in a stubborn gesture. She invites, though, "You have the bottle now," for that shared drink. "Perhaps," R'hin allows, not quite so willing to lie so baldfacedly. "And yet here I am, now," with a spread of hands. Instead of taking a drink, he walks over and takes a seat, casually lying an arm across the back of one of the other chairs. "After a time," he says, instead, "You have to accept that this is where you belong. For better or worse." Lilah doesn't answer that statement with words, but with the curve of a single brow upwards in a silent question for the bronzerider, shifting to face him but not taking a seat herself. Not at her own table. "Would a dash," R'hin lifts his hand, holding finger and thumb together, "Of personality kill you?" his hand spreads to gesture to the weyr-at-large. "Have you considered this is my personality? I chose most everything in here; the wall color, the shelf--," Lilah replies with a hint of humor catching at the edges of her words. R'hin gives a sharp look, almost scolding, almost angry, "Is that really what you believe? That you are a bland, boring, goldrider, and that is all?" He pushes to his feet, exhaling a breath. "If that's true, you will never be anything more. Sometimes," as he reaches for the bottle, "You wear a mask long enough, it becomes true. Perfect, boring, Lilah. May she rest in peace," as he takes a gulp from the bottle. "You aren't allowed to question what I am. You aren't allowed to bemoan whatever I become," bursts from the goldrider, her anger burning brighter than his almost as she steps closer to grab that bottle back from him. "You are nothing but an old bronzerider who is-- How did you phrase it, exactly?" But she is dismissing that with a sharp lift of fingers without waiting for him to answer, pressing on, "Whatever it was, I am quite sure it means I am not your concern either." Some of the liquid spills from the bottle as she grabs it back, and R'hin grimaces, perhaps for its loss, of all things. He regards her with curiosity as she tries, and fails, to finish that sentence. He's certainly not helping her, at any rate. "No," the bronzerider agrees, "You are not. Yet," with a spread of hands, "Here I am. Contrary, like that." "Then what do you want, R'hin?" Lilah snaps back for his contrariness, her fingers tightening on the neck of the bottle but not lifting it for any drink. He exhales a breath and then with a low-throated laugh: "To deceive myself a little longer." It's an odd, yet disturbingly honest sort of statement, at least as far as R'hin is concerned. His head turns, then, and his body soon after, he's heading for the exit, fast, not looking back. In the bowl, Leiventh moves, his usual stillness forgone in the place of a spreading of wings, as if in anticipation, or something. It is a vague enough statement that it is met with a set expression, though there is something searching in Lilah's dark gaze for it. But, when he turns away and leaves, the goldrider doesn't follow, not out into the bowl in only her robe. Luckily, she has that bottle to keep her company. |
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