Logs:Cynicism and Joy
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| RL Date: 21 March, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke is concerned about Quinlys. The conversation turns political. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Agaeor/Mentions, F'rain/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Sisha/Mentions |
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| It's twilight when Irianke's shadow stretches into K'del's weyr. She knows he's here because Cadejoth gives him away. Well, here in the Weyr, though not in his weyr. So she calls out, "Do you have a moment?" Just in case he's not immediately visible. He's not immediately visible-- but the sound of splashing from within the interior chambers of the weyr gives away his location. "Just a minute!" he calls, voice muffled by the stone walls in between. The splashing, at least, stops. That certainly gives Irianke pause, her head tilting and body shifting forward, as if to try and make out what kind oif splashing it is. Is it one whose end is terminal because that's just how much water K'del imbibed recently, or is it one that ends in a cleaner Weyrleader? "Ahh... ok." Unable to discern that, the goldrider's response is oddly uncertain. K'del does not, at least, leave the goldrider with too much time to ponder these unponderables. He steps out from the bedroom, towelling his face dry, a few moments later. It spikes up his hair, and has dripped a little down in short, though he's otherwise fully dressed aside from his boots; his feet are bare upon the stone. "Irianke," he greets, as he appeared. "Oh, ok, that kind of water splashing," says the woman, suddenly much peppier. Apparently, in all of the things on her bucket list, listening to someone you are not sleeping with pee is not one of them "Nice hair," Irianke compliments in a teasing fashion. "I had some concerns I wanted to bring up with you, sir. But I'm not sure I want them officially lodged yet as I seem to be quite a contentious figure here somehow. Just...," the goldrider sucks in some breath between her teeth, "Something to watch out for." One of K'del's eyebrows raises, but he makes no comment in answer to that first thing Irianke says-- nor the second. It's that last that has him opening his mouth, closing it again, and then draping the towel over the back of the nearest chair. "Oh," he says. And then, "Drink?" Beat. "Not my own wine." "No, thank you." Her decline is graciously uttered, complete with an apologetic look in her eye. "You could offer me a glass in a day and I'd be more than happy to accept." Irianke's hand clings to the wall, before she turns so her back rests against it, and her feet place far enough that it's a definite leaned pose. Mostly in, a little out; the ability to dart out if need be with just a spin of a foot. "I don't know how comfortable I feel with a weyrlingmaster who has been, apparently, quite vocal about not Searching any candidates. I do recognize people are entitled to their own opinion and don't want to be the one to quash it, however..." Irianke's mouth closes, pressed tightly for all the things she does not say. Remembrance floods K'del's expression; he nods, that apologetic look shared, if only briefly. He's silent, as Irianke explains her purpose in being here; silent and, as she continues, increasingly impassive in expression. "But you see it as inappropriate behaviour," he concludes, without displaying any particular sentiment. "Which... it is. Won't argue with you on that. There's having an opinion, and then there's..." "I see it as a conflict of interest. I don't know that I can trust her to actually instruct the weyrlings without playing favorites and ostracizing those she thinks might choose to go to Igen." Irianke's shoulders slump, her feet scooting to accomodate the shift in weight. Her feet must be fascinating or she's just unable to look K'del in the eye. "I've heard so much random gossip about her that I'm not entirely sure what's true or not and it makes it harder for me to want this to be an official visit. But even taking it all with a grain of salt... I... if we had only Searched at Igen, as one of the rumors said, and an Igen woman Impressed from the golden egg, or any number of the bronzes Impressed to Igenites, would it have made the situation any better?" K'del's, "No," answers that last question, promptly and without pause. He watches Irianke - watches her watch her feet, really - his hands seeking each other behind his back. "Despite all you've heard, Quinlys is a good weyrlingmaster. She's angry. She's... I'll talk to her. But I have faith in her ability to get past this, and to do her job. It's one thing to pontificate; it's another for any contentious person not to do the things they love doing, and do it properly. Which isn't to say I don't understand your concerns, or don't disapprove." But. Irianke looks up, her dark hair a back drop to her fine featured face. "I don't know her better than anyone who has lived here and has their entire life here. Might I make a suggestion, that," she's quick to add, "Can be dismissed if it doesn't suit you." It goes without saying, that first part of what Irianke's said. The rest earns a nod, one that's followed quickly by a, "Of course. Happy to hear your suggestions." No doubt her caveat helps. "When I leave," Irianke scuffs one toe into the ground before pushing herself off that wall. "When I leave, and the weyrlings trained here, making ties here, bonding with people here, go with me, might I request the temporary transfers of a few of your blue and greenriders in leadership positions. For two months. No more." A silent beat passes. "Including Quinlys." K'del's silence - an extended silence - is a good indication of how bewildered he is by this situation. As he takes the time he needs to find his voice, he takes up his towel again, turning it between his fingers, folding it, finally, tidily. "Why?" Irianke draws herself up, tall, taller, never as tall as him even in the cute shoes she's wearing once more. And says, "This is one of those questions I'm going to have to answer, isn't it?" with a wry smile. "I can't let you get away with being inscrutable always," is K'del's answer, light despite the topic at hand. He sets the towel down again, leaving his hands free to grip the back of one of his chairs. "You don't find it charming and mysterious?" Irianke's brows work up and down, concluding in an eye-squinting look of amusement. Then, more seriously, with an upturn of one slim shoulder, "It doesn't make you want to cast away your relationships and find yourself in my weyr trying to discern all my wily Igen secrets?" That just makes herself laugh. It makes him laugh, too. "It is both charming and mysterious... and enormously frustrating. There's only so much mystery a man can take; have mercy!" The corners of K'del's mouth work their way up, but not all the way: he's still waiting for an answer. The smile lingers, though her words draw upon a sobriety not present in her previously faux-serious words. "I think it would do some of your riders good to see a different Weyr and not just see one, not just visit one for Gathers or parties. Hatchings or clutchings. For flights or romantic trysts. I think living life in another Weyr has been a far more eye opening experience than I imagined it could be and while many of the things I was told before coming here seem to be true, there are a magnitude of others that I've learned on my own. It would be good for people to experience it themselves." Irianke's soft, rolling Igen accent grows stronger the longer she speaks. "That would be the first reason." There's no argument from K'del for that first reason; only the slow, thoughtful nod that so often characterises his consideration of an idea. "And the second?" "The second," Irianke rifles a hand through her loose hair, working out kinks gently, and ends up curling one curl about her finger as she considers K'del. "You aren't duty bound to keep my confidences, but I trust you, nonetheless, to do so if I should ask. But please, these words never leave this weyr." K'del's, "I promise," comes quickly, and with a firmness to it that backs up the actual words; as does his nod. "Without seeing it first hand, I don't know how F'rain's new idea of how wings should work is working. I do know, however," continues Irianke, "That Igen has become intensely bronze and brown heavy in the last few turns, something our dragonhealers have speculated have to do with junior golds encouraged to only allow brownriders to win, which has made clutches smaller, our overall numbers smaller. They also suspect it is a side effect of the Interval, and dragons somehow knowing instinctively that smaller, more agile dragons are less necessary for the survival of dragonkind until Thread again comes." She pauses, long enough for her foggy blue eyes to ascertain whether he follows. K'del wraps his fingers more tightly about the back of the chair against which he is partially leaning; his slow nod is a careful one, the expression on his face suggesting there's a lot going on behind his own pale eyes. He doesn't say it, but the implication is there: go on. "Whether what he is doing is right or not, or is working or not," Irianke is careful not to make concrete judgments on that, though the fact that she speaks of anything in regards to it might be enough of an indicator, "I feel those blue and greenriders who are leading their own wings of similarly hued dragons might find some solidarity and insight from those riders who lead in other, less restrictive, Weyrs." This time, K'del's nod suggests acceptance without much thought, as if he'd already come to this conclusion and had been merely waiting for Irianke to speak it out loud. His question, by way of reply, comes shortly thereafter: "You don't fear that it would promote dissent?" Beat. "But then, as I understand it, there is less of that, at Igen, you say. Less... talking back." "Quinlys, yes," Irianke might as well be upfront about everything at this point. "Mielline, no. Sisha, no. I believe those two are far too politically savvy to sow overt dissent. And yes, Igen has, until F'rain, trusted our leadership." A sound of her teeth sucking in air and then expelling it without room emits; that sharp sucking sound of that indescribable emotion of disbelief comingled with resignation and frustration among others. "Life's a bitch when the best laid plans go to waste and someone not of your Weyr's culture wins its leadership flight." The furrowing of K'del's brow, and the way he sucks in a breath of his own, suggests a lot of his own reaction to F'rain's actions: he has less stake, perhaps, but he's no more thrilled than the goldrider is. "Knowing High Reaches' role in that makes it-- worse," he says, quietly, but this is not about High Reaches; his tone suggests he's aware of that, too. "I take your point, in any case. And I'll consider the idea. It would-- be good, I think, to do a further sharing of ideas." "Unlike Nimae," Irianke shares further, her gaze drifting around the room, then seeks out K'del's, "I don't believe F'rain is useless. His older brother is Lord Agaeor of Telgar Hold and in my experience," which is well-rounded enough with Igen's gold diplomatic rotations, "Blooded folk, for the most part, don't raise useless progeny, though the popular opinion might be as such. What he's doing," she says, if her round about ideas aren't clear, "May not actually be a bad thing with how Igen's clutch numbers are going." K'del's nod is slower, this time, though he allows, quietly, "He's likely better prepared for the position than I was; all I'd had waspart of our leadership training program." Of what F'rain is doing, he's less certain, given his expression, and yet... "There's that. But change is difficult. Especially for those feeling... disenfranchised." "People are disenfranchised the moment they accept Search and what they Impress is not golden." Irianke's gray-blue eyes lift and dare K'del to disagree. "We are disenfranchised the moment someone steps down and chance sends a dragon other than the one expected up. You make the best of the life you're given and the one you've chosen to live. I could be miserable right now, angry at being here, wishing desperately to see my friends and family and instead, I've opted to look at this as getting to know new people, finding out new things I am capable of doing and now providing your Weyr with a replacement for myself. They're all good things and the people I've met here, while not all of them like me, they're leaving lasting enough impressions on my life. That is what I am choosing to live even if I will likely never be the Weyrwoman and never exercise the power to send someone off in a political match like the Holds." A breath later, Irianke dares a smile, "Did I mention the cynicism I keep wrapped deep inside me?" K'del's mouth opens partway through Irianke's torrent of words; it closes again a sentence or two later, by which point he can do nothing but nod. "Told someone that today, myself: the moment you accept Search and walk onto those sands, you give up full control of your life. It's... you're right. We make the most of what we have, what we get." He stops, then, shaking his head, as his expression takes on a more amused look. "Your cynicism is... refreshing, in its way." "Nimae says it's a fault. Not the cynicism, but my passion, she calls it, for wanting people to understand." Irianke's look down at her feet this time allows the fleeting glimpse of flushed cheeks and some small measure of shame. For the exposure of her feelings? For the rudeness? "The cynicism keeps me grounded. My joy for life makes me happy. I'm afraid I've taken up too much of your time. Were you planning on staying at the Reaches tonight?" K'del, in contrast, smiles. "I've a similar passion," he tells her. "It's been a burden, at times; when I'm desperate to explain myself, when it feels someone has misjudged me, my actions-- well." He presses his lips together, tight for a moment, but not destined to linger. "The happiness is important. And yes; tonight's a home night." Quietly, she's on her way out anyway, her body is pivoted more towards exiting than in the weyr now, and it might ruin everything built thus far, but Irianke ventures, "Isn't home where your heart is?" "Cadejoth, and this Weyr; they're first in my heart." The answer is simple... mostly. It doesn't stop K'del's expression from clouding over; his gaze turning faraway. "At least tonight." Irianke's apology is silent, a mere shadow in her eyes that doesn't make anything in her last, impertinent inquiry, better. "Good night. Thank you for listening to my thoughts about Quinlys and everything else." The pivot completes and she's walking out of his weyr in those cute shoes towards hers. "Good night," K'del says, letting his words follow the goldrider. Once again, though, he's left to watch the empty space she's departed from, gaze lingering there for long seconds before he can draw himself away. |
Contents
Comments
Edyis (05:45, 22 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
I really love this plot arc, and the way that each scene seems to unfold something deeper, either for characters or for the overall world.
Alida (06:43, 22 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
I agree with Edyis; this plot arc is becoming more and more multi-layered, interesting. Woe to Igen (and maybe herself) if Alida gets picked to spend a few months at Igen. ;P
Roz (10:38, 22 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
Go go, TeamIgen!
shakes pompoms ;D
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