Logs:Booze Shortages And Extra Sweeps
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 17 May, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del's rest, after a long day of dealing with the stolen High Reaches Hold tithe, is rudely interrupted by a pissed off Tiriana. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 10, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'son/Mentions, Milani/Mentions, N'thei/Mentions |
| The news about High Reaches Hold's tithe train came in last night, followed by more facts this morning. K'del spent most of the day out weyr (much to Cadejoth's disgust), with B'sil, attempting to piece together what happened, but as dusk settles back upon the weyr, he is home again, pottering about his weyr with his shirt unbuttoned, his shoes long since abandoned. With a deep sigh, he drops down onto the couch, feet propped up by the armrest at the other end, and shuts his eyes. He's been gone, and Iovniath is too sands-bound now to go chasing him down. This is the only thing that's saved K'del this long. No sooner has the Weyrleader closed his eyes than Tiriana is charging straight over, boots pounding on the floor. "K'del!" she shouts from the entry, but doesn't stop there. She barges on in to stop right in front of him. "K'del, what the /fuck/ is this?" No rest for the... morally justified. Or, you know, whatever K'del is. His eyes flicker open again as soon as his name gets yelled, which means that, by the time she's standing right in front of him, he's at least struggled into a slightly more seated position. "This," he says, then, "is me putting my feet up for the first time in this fucking shit of a day. Do I get to have five minutes before you blame me for something that clearly isn't my fault?" "No, you fucking well do not," snaps Tiriana, waving her hands in full-blown fury mode. "You're just lucky I am actually talking and not punching right now. I didn't say anything the first time, because I figured how hard can it be. Surely even /you/ can catch a couple of thieves, hang them, and be done with it. But what the fuck is going on, that it's /still/ happening?" K'del mouthes 'even you' along with her, expression hardening while his fists clench at his sides. "Ever tried to find a needle in a haystack, Tiriana?" he asks, obviously struggling not to let his annoyance seep too much into his words. It doesn't work well enough to actually hide it. Struggling up properly, his feet land on the floor once more. "We're working on it. Trying to track down some of the more memorable goods. Looking out for reports of non-locals, people with more marks than they should, that kind of thing. And my wing has been flying out all day, looking. Along with a good amount of High Reaches Hold. What more do you expect me to do?" That's beginning to lound plaintive. "Fuck it. Fuck them all," Tiriana says, stamping a foot. "Even if you don't find them, it shouldn't damn well happen again. They shouldn't be able to pull one over on us twice." She's stiff to the point of shaking, declares, "They can't fucking do this to us. To /our/ Weyr." But at least she finally sags into a chair on her own, rather than continuing to flounce about yelling. "I'll agree with that," he says in response, fervently. "All of it. Want a drink? Probably have something, still." K'del's already standing, evidently already intending to seek out something for himself, then adds. "/Was/ going to assign a rider to shadow the tithes from above, though who knows if they'd see anything in the dark. But the roads'll be closed, soon, probably no more tithes coming, right? So it's a bit late for that. Maybe just extra riders on sweeps, though, to keep an eye out." Pause. He's got a bottle of whiskey in hand, now. "Least Tillek's going to give us what they can. So we won't starve or anything. Or run completely dry." Tiriana sinks down in the chair, her face in her hands. She rubs her eyes for a very long moment before finally nodding, albeit without looking up. "Fine. We need more--more. Just more. More guards with them. Our own guards, that we can trust. Riders with them. And--I don't know. Fuck. Fuck it all, they never would have done this to Satiet and N'thei." K'del returns with two drinks, the glasses distinctly more full than would traditionally be appropriate, and offers one to Tiriana as he settles back into his seat. "Right," he agrees. "More. More guards, riders watching out. Patrols, all over the area. Everyone on alert. They have to try and sell all of this stuff, unless the point is just to fuck with us. So we'll watch for that, too." He pauses before answering the last, and sighs. "No, probably not. They're testing us." And so far? Yeah, not doing too well. [New Players] Avey: What kind of character do you want? Crafter, rider, or character to impress on camera? Tiriana takes one drink from K'del, leaning back, though she scrubs the heel of her hand across her eyes one more time, then swipes her damp hand surreptitiously on her pants. "We're never going to find it, not that way," she finally says, marginally calmer, if no less happier. "No telling how many hands it will have been through by the time we track it down, and how are we supposed to find them then? Prove they were the ones that took it in the first place. We have to--we have to catch them in the act." K'del doesn't watch; kind of him. Instead, he takes a long mouthful of his drink, swallowing it too quickly for it to involve actual enjoyment. "Mm," he agrees, head tilting to the side as, now, he glances back in her direction. "Suppose that's true. If there's not much more by way of tithes to come in, though, what would they be after next? Though the replacement stuff, I suppose, from Tillek and High Reaches... Reckon we can bring that in ourselves, maybe. Not ideal, but dragons can carry it." Beat. Then, as he swallows another sip, sounding moody and bitter, "That's what they'll remember our first turn for: booze shortages, and extra sweeps, and using dragons as pack animals." Tiriana pulls her dirty boots up in the chair with her, an arm wrapping around her knees while she finally takes a long drink, downing most of the glass at once. "This better fucking be a clutch to remember," she finally says, shaking her head. "All bronze and two golds. At /least/. So they forget all this shit that we keep messing up." "Two golds, huh?" But K'del isn't laughing, not even really making a joke, at least, not one intended to be at Tiriana's expense. Then, after a long, deep breath: "/Yeah/. Felt like we were doing okay for a while, you know? Like we were going to manage. Between us, and Milani, and Lujayn and B'sil. And now..." He drains the rest of his glass in one gulp, sets it down on the table. "/Will/ be a good clutch. And then we'll get these... bastards. Pin it on someone. /Win/." Tiriana just shakes her head, then finishes off the drink herself. Her hand stays clenched tightly around the glass. "We need to get them before the hatching," she notes. "Don't want this hanging over our damn heads. Want to be able to really celebrate. Hell, we should send the candidates along after them. Might as well get some use out of them before they go home or get stuck with baby dragons." "More?" K'del's head bobs in the direction of her glass. But, more certainly, "Before the hatching. Right. That makes sense. Don't want it taking away from our glory." Mention of the candidates makes his raise his eyebrows, and then, shake his head. "Could end up with maimed candidates, and no one left to stand. Don't we want them to not leave the weyr, anyway?" Pause. Then, more conversationally, "Seem like a nice bunch, though. The candidates, I mean." "I don't know. I want to send the whole damn Weyr after them," growls Tiriana, clenching the glass harder. "Besides, we can always find more candidates. They're not so--Iovniath doesn't like them yet. Even the ones that are okay, she doesn't trust them. Not with her eggs." She breathes out a long breath, tries to relax again. It doesn't really work. It may be a foolish thing to say, but K'del says it anyway: "She doesn't like Cadejoth, either. Or doesn't trust him, anyway. And he'd be the last person to hurt her eggs, I swear." But he accepts the rest of it without question, watching Tiriana with an unreadable expression. "We'll put the wings on it, I promise, Tiriana. Everyone we can spare from other things. And people from the holds, too. Whatever it takes. Not going to let these bastards get away with it, okay?" Tiriana snaps, "No shit," but a beat later, concedes, in marginally more polite fashion, "What do you expect? She will for the hatching. Wouldn't look right, even our dragons at odds in front of the dignitaries." She nods, finally, to K'del's latter words, unfolds her legs slowly from the chair. "I want in on it," he declares then. "I'm not just going to sit here like a--a /woman/, waiting for the menfolk to come home with news again." K'del opens his mouth, like he'd like to argue the point further, but nods his head instead. "Fine. Good. And he'll keep watching from the ledges, in the meantime. Must have a good front, for everyone. Better if we could actually, you know, keep talking." That last bit is said quietly, his attention focused on her again, almost slyly. For her last, he considers for a moment before responding. "Cadejoth and I will be happy to bring you with us, of course, when we head out. I didn't think you'd be willing to leave Iovniath, else I would have offered sooner. It's a good idea: unity, and all that." Tiriana gives K'del a look for that comment, her mouth tightening: not friendly, but at least less than outright hateful. It's an improvement. Really. As for the latter-- "Good," and she relaxes just a little bit more, enough to set down the empty glass. "She doesn't want me to--doesn't think it's ladylike, on top of everything else. But I'm not letting anybody fuck with my Weyr, not if I have to hunt them down and dump them all /between/ myself. Everything else, Milani and Lujayn can cover it long enough for me to do what I have to do." K'del manages, at least, to try and keep his expression mostly placid, and therefore not too contentious, for as long as that looks lasts. "I suppose she wouldn't." Beat. "Just... Let's be civil, and not bash anyone's heads in until we know who is behind it, right? We both need to look strong, not... emotional. That might make us look weak. Once we know, though... You know." He's probably already regretting this offer; there's certainly something in the way his eyes flick away. "I wish we still had Thread," is Tiriana's next brilliant idea, which considering her unpleasant smile, is probably not going to comfort K'del any. But earnestly, she leans over toward him, insists, "What looks weak is letting them keep doing this. We need--we have to do like with Crom. With N'thei, and A'son. Stand up for ourselves. You should--" She breaks off, brows furrowing; you can almost hear the wheels grinding. "Get in good with... Not N'thei, fuck N'thei. But talk to A'son, maybe. People all still remember, and even if he's dumb as a brick, he's... good." The word is probably not supposed to make her nose wrinkle quite like that, though. K'del can't help the dubiousness in his expression for that idea, nor the way his lips pull in unhappily. He holds back from answering until she's done, sitting stock still as she leans in like that, his eyebrows raising just slightly at the wrinkle of her nose. "You want me to end up in jail? Or one of them. Again. A'son and I have never even had a conversation before, and I can't imagine it would go down too well if we were to. He's not exactly predisposed to like me, given givens." Fucking his ex-girlfriend and all. You know. "Given /what/?" says Tiriana, before she catches on. "Oh, you mean Milani, that whore? Please. He can do so much better than her, I don't know what he's mooning on about. And you--I've a good mind to forbid my Weyrleader and my Headwoman from fucking, but. You two probably deserve each other." She sniffs, pushes her glass pointedly across the table. Refill please. "And you're not going to jail. You're the Weyrleader of High Reaches. Please. Though it's a good thing, really, because I guarantee you'd be somebody's bitch before the first day was out. You're pretty." It's--almost--a compliment. "She's /not/ a whore," corrects K'del, instantly, his voice sharper than he may have intended it to be. "And honestly, Tiriana, I'd rather you didn't speak about our Headwoman in such a fashion, not to mention my /friend/. And my personal life is none of your business, anyway." That? That was a button, right there, easily pushed. He has to get up to get the bottle to offer that refill, which he does; this time, the bottle gets set down on the table in front of them when he's filled her glass. It takes him until he's finished with that to finally add, "Charming. But almost, almost flattering. You think I'm pretty!" Oh look, he's flattering his eyelashes. Lovely. "She's a whore," Tiriana stubbornly insists. "She'll tell you so herself. Can't keep her legs together for anything, can she." And she takes her glass back up when it's filled, taking another long drink. "Don't flatter yourself," she says flatly. "You're no R'uen. You're pretty like a girl--which is not attractive on guys." Nevermind the legions of Weyrleader fangirls who would beg to differ. "No, she won't. She'll call herself plenty of things, but whore is not one of them. Nor should it be, since she isn't." Now, he goes to refill his own glass, which at least gives him something to concentrate on rather than Tiriana, though his hands shake slightly; he's upset, clearly. "Isn't it? Right. That must be why my bed is so cold and empty. Not to mention my bath, that seat you're sitting in... you know. All the usual places." There's something that changes in the recitation of these so-called usual places, like a personal joke he's not sharing. "I'll ask her, then," Tiriana says, flippant. "Tomorrow, first order of business in our meeting." And she smirks at him, pleased that he's upset now; though, when he points out her chair as a point of interest, she scowls and scoots forward, to the edge of it. With a sneer, she shoots back, "What, you think /my/ weyr gets cold, just because I stick to one guy?" "If you like. Millie knows how to handle you." K'del struggles to sound equally flippant, but it doesn't come off too successfully: he still sounds bothered, and sinks in to his drink, instead. Still, the way she scoots forward? That does bring a smile to his face. "Did I say that? Don't give a flying rat fuck about your sex life. /You/ were the one who started this conversation." "Because it doesn't," Tiriana continues like K'del said nothing. Lalala, can't hear you. "We fuck all the time. Everywhere. And you do care, too, because I know you. You'd love a shot at doing me again, wouldn't you," she says, lip curling with distaste. She stands. "And Milani cannot handle me. Don't make me laugh. I don't know what even /you/ see in her, except that she's easy. Not even that pretty--looks too much like her brother." Which just makes her scowl more. K'del, managing this time to actually sound dismissive, "You weren't that great." He lets that linger, taking the time to sip again from his drink, which is more than half gone already. With Tiriana now standing, he leans back, settling into his chair lazily. "So you think. Honestly, Tiriana, you have no idea of the half that goes on in this weyr without you. And if you're going to insult Milani, /or/ her brother, fuck off, would you kindly? Got better things to do with my evening than listen to that crap, just because you're bitter over one thing or another." "Only because you don't remember it," and Tiriana is confidently smug about that as she takes a couple of steps toward the door. She finishes her drink off in the process. "Do you even /know/ Giremi? I bet she just gave you that story about how I broke his poof little heart, didn't she," she drawls then. "You and her can just both go fuck yourselves. And don't you forget, either--I'm going with you." And she fixes him with a flat look, reminder of his promise. "It's nice to see a girl with such a high opinion of her own abilities. Really quite charming." Though K'del, admittedly, doesn't sound terribly charmed. "From what I do know, he's hardly a poof. He's got a weyrmate and a baby, doesn't he? And thank you, I'd rather fuck her than myself. /She's/ worth remembering." The promise. Oh, the promise. He looks /so/ glad he makes it, right now. "I swear to you, Tiriana, if you knock anyone's teeth in, or do anything /stupid/, I will never take you anywhere again. But yes, yes, I promised. This time." "Did she tell you the part," Tiriana rejoins, "where he taught my harper classes when I was a kid? Or that he was my best friend until he fucked me over? Like it was all me fucking everything up." She snorts, shakes her head. "I'm not going to do anything stupid, not that I'm ever going to /need/ you ever again. Really, I probably don't need you /this/ time, but you offered." And she's going to hold him to it. She turns to stalk out then, but remembers just in time she still has her glass. It's lobbed back toward its owner, spitefully aimed somewhere at the stone floor between the two of them. "Oops." K'del doesn't answer that first bit, nor really the second. The glass hits the ground and shatters before he gets anything out at all; he scowls. "'Oops'. Right. You're welcome, of course, to willfully destroy my things. Of course. Now that you've made a mess of my floor, fuck off." "Anytime," says Tiriana, and happy now that she's upset him again, she saunters on out, smirking. The last laugh's enough for her to call this battle a victory. K'del scowls after her, and, once she's completely gone, kicks the table in front of him moodily. "Fucking /bitch/." Stupid Tiriana. |
Leave A Comment