Logs:Direct Communication
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| RL Date: 16 May, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, Azaylia, Edeline, Tsanth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Tillek Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: When a tithe train from Tillek insists on only delivering its goods to Wingleader Z'ian, Aishani and Azaylia leave to speak with Lady Edeline. To some, the solution seems simple enough. |
| Where: Tillek Hold |
| When: Day 16, Month 10, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions, Vienne/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Takes place at the same time as Misdirected Tithes. |
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| Tillek Hold Great iron doors lead into the Main Hall of Tillek Hold, with bright blue-and-white flags and banners marking each side - and in the windows above. There's plenty of room for all kinds of action in the courtyard, though most businesses and formal activities are conducted elsewhere: down on the docks, in the winery, or in any number of cotholds that line the roads extending away from the courtyard itself. Wet, rainy autumns are the usual fare for Tillek. Even when it's not a real storm, the sky is usually overcast and drizzly. So the tithe train comes to High Reaches, and it has a tag that says 'Z'ian' on it. It's surely not meant to make anyone happy, certainly not Aishani, probably not Taikrin, but are the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders usually in charge of the lower caverns? It's obviously meant to provoke something - and it's a sign of both the (Acting) Weyrwoman's anger and the immediacy of the situation that the (poor, beleaguered) watchdragon assigned to Tillek is informed, with a wash of saltwater, that Iesaryth and Hraedhyth are soon to arrive. The goldrider chooses her words and timing carefully - she's not going to like being drawn into what's essentially a trap of Edeline's devising, and though she is neutral and polite enough as she requests the Lady's attendance, dark eyes are flinty and sharp on every single person she comes across. Iesaryth, for her part, is not quite as calm and relaxed as usual... but that might be difficult for anyone but the other gold to ascertain. Hraedhyth's break from between is rarely a silent one, and though she greets the watchdragon and people of Tillek with a bellow, it is not out of anger. There is confusion that fills her smoke, fire burning hot as she keeps alert in this foreign territory. Occasionally, an anxiety not her own causes a spike in her otherwise steady rhythm. Azaylia is a muted contrast, motions cautious and slow as she dismounts and follows the Acting Weyrwoman in her request for Lady Edeline. Formal attire isn't its best, surely out of style by now, but short notice is what it is. She wears the long navy dress and fur trim well enough. The damage of the winds is smoothed away by a hand, well placed braids otherwise holding fast against her faint fidgeting at Aishani's side. So much like her choking black plumes: the weight of responsibility, of duty, would surely smother if not for Hraedhyth's added strength. It is not she who struggles, the queen set in her role, one in which she thrives. Singed petals curl, tainted perfume carried by that curling smoke that reaches out to her tribesman. A loyal packmate, or so she believes, « There are rations. Supplies. » The air clears, visions of the tithe train framed by her flames, « They ask for Yours and Yours alone. We, » The crash of a distant ocean, « Leave to speak to the Tillek Matriarch. » A fact. But what can be heard over her contralto is the message in the echo of savage drums: their tribe needs that food. The outcome of their journey bares little importance to the warrior queen and rider, at least in this. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) The two weyrwomen are shown into the same waiting room Aishani found herself in on her last formal visit-- and there they can wait, despite the assurances by their initial escort that the Lady will be with them shortly. There are refreshments set out, and it's hard to tell whether they're there for a reason, pre-prepared... or if this is simply normal custom. Finally, the doors swing open, and there's Edeline, flanked by her ladies, as calm and self-possessed as ever. "Weyrwomen," she greets. She doesn't query the reason for their presence; she knows, and seems - though whether this is because she's had time to prepare or not is hard to know - quite at ease with it. As though she's been expecting them. Smoke wafting over the beach, darkening the bright blue skies that hang over the ocean. Tsanth notices this change and he rises to meet it, attention lifting from the holder and his wagon trapped in the mud. To entertaining the young dragons. « It is not our duty to receive tithes says ours. He is out with the wing, we help the holders. » There's an undercurrent of worry regardless, the sense of Z'ian's solid connection with his dragon evident in that. They're very much one in the same within this communication. Both wondering what exactly is going on. « Iesaryth. What of hers? » (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth) Well, Aishani seems unsurprised by the waiting room, or the refreshments, or the wait itself - as they're brought in and left alone, she glances Azaylia's way, brows arched, lips pursed for a moment. But then, she'll wait, and not make much in the way of conversation - being the way she is, she likely thinks they're being watched and/or listened to - and not take refreshments either, because that just seems wrong, somehow. But as the doors swing open, she'll stand at her full height, and though she's managing calm, she's not quite as prepared or self-possessed right now. "Indeed we are, Lady Tillek," she agrees, with a faint, tight smile. "I hope you and yours are well. Thank you for your hospitality - it's quite as if you anticipated our arrival. It's most impressive." « The Tillek Matriarch has made it your duty. » Oh, Hraedhyth is not untouched by the pointed insult. It rankles, fire crackling and popping only once as she's reminded of priorities by that wilting perfume. « Either Yours accepts, or it will be a harsh winter. » Much like the bronze pair, both the queen and her rider are in attendance. The latter spares what she can from the tense meeting of leadership, the tension felt from Iesaryth's added when Tsanth questions. « Hers is... displeased. » Where low voice rumbles, there is a hiss of flame that draws out the last of that word. « Mine believes there will be insult, and the Weyr will suffer for it. » Anxiety spikes again, drums skipping a beat, a show at how uncertain her other half feels in all of this. Even in bespeaking them. « There is no need. The solution is an easy one. » In their opinion. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) This is Azaylia's first time in holding an audience with Lady Edeline, the waiting room proving to be fascinating for her nervous, darting gaze. It steadies when Aishani looks her way, a reminder to school her expression into something far more neutral. It lasts only as long as it takes her thoughts to distract her once more, fingers wringing now and again while they wait. When the Lady and her attendants enter, the weyrwoman is quick on her feet and smoothing her hands down over her skirts. "Lady Tillek." A quiet echo of the other goldrider, set on Edeline's face and not looking too terribly unsettled. With a slow breath, "Thank you for seeing us." 'On such short notice' doesn't need to be said, carried in the tone of her gentle greeting. "There is much that can be accomplished between notice of visitors, and their actual arrival," says Edeline, moving to seat herself in one of the plush chairs, her ladies trailing behind her to array themselves about her, with no evident intention of seating themselves. "Do you require anything else? Or shall we settle ourselves down to business. It must be very important for you to come and see me yourselves-- I have quite become accustomed to being informed of your intentions as regard my hold by note." To Hraedhyth, Tsanth remembers still, he remembers the force of Hraedhyth combined with Iesaryth. Even if the memory is becoming distant in his mind. The crackle of her fire has him flinching back briefly from her. « We will accept. Though we must bring the young ones with us. » A flash of three weyrling dragons, bronze, brown and blue. The image of another of theirs, an older blue that does not fly as well as the others. Oswinth. « He wishes that you keep us 'in the loop' on what is progressing with yours and Iesaryth's. If it goes well. » There is none of that force now, though instinct is a temptation, if only to help this process along. It does not sit well with Hers, and Azaylia's discomfort fuels Hraedhyth's flames more than anything ever could. His flinch has her giving a snarl of frustration, but not at him, but because past actions have given the bronze good reason to do so. « We will not force you. We are asking. » When he accepts, « Good. » Not so good are the pups, but they are grown enough and Oswinth is sensed to be faintly familiar. « This concerns them. » All of their tribe, and because of this she will stifle any protective objections. « You will know what We know. » (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) As if as impressed as she says, "So it seems." Aishani will seat herself again as the Lady does, not quite after - and though the other two won't sit, it doesn't stop her from flickering her dark gaze their way now and again, even if they're well-trained enough to give little away. "I'm fine, thank you. And yes, I'd quite like to settle things, though..." She crosses long legs, her expression shading faintly bemused, eyes still stone-cold. "I'm sorry, Lady Edeline. But from the way any visits have been received even prior to recent... issues, it seemed distance was wise. Shall we come down personally to deliver news of your nephew?" Ahem. He does the same, floating an image of their group meeting with the tithe train currently. The other younger bronze is in view, Athimeroth. « Mine thinks that the man who brings the supplies may be blind. He can not tell one rider from another. » There's a distinct impression given of the short, round man with the squinty eyes looking between the weyrling bronze's rider and Tsanth's. For every moment that he keeps in contact with Hraedhyth and nothing unfortunate happens to his mental psyche, he gradually relaxes again. (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth) Much like those ladies, Azaylia is quiet. The similarities stop there as she too takes a seat after Lady Edeline and Aishani have, taking extra time in smoothing her skirts before she descends and sits straight. There's a soft nod at the matter of their business, no doubt in favor of getting to the matters at hand. Who wouldn't feel rushed with such... pleasantries being exchanged? Aishani's last has dark eyes darting in a side-glance, quick, and other than the flex of her folded hands nothing is said. Not until, "My Lady." Polite, waiting for the older woman's attention before, "I did have a question." There's an inclination of what could be apology for interrupting the Acting Weyrwoman's own pace with, "What was it about Bronzerider Z'ian that you took notice of?" Down to business indeed. Hraedhyth's contralto is made all too guttural in a murmur, her rasp bordering on conspiratorial, « Mine says that will not help. » A spark tossed out from her hearth, left to cool and die at Iesaryth's whim. Just an opinion. (To Iesaryth from Hraedhyth) With a spray of bubbly seafoam, meant to soften her message, Iesaryth passes on, « She says nor will lying down before her to ask forgiveness. » (To Hraedhyth from Iesaryth) A snuff, inhaling the scent of that foam though upon exhale the bubbles and their message are blown back. Not a dismissal but a correction, « That is not Our intention. » The ember fades with one last curl of smoke, but that too dissipates as she watches. (To Iesaryth from Hraedhyth) What amusement Hraedhyth might have for Tsanth is dashed away by another crackling hiss, « Mine still fears insult. » There's fresh validation for that earlier concern, though whether it's for the Lady or Iesaryth's... Likely both. « Ours are very... different. » Unbothered drums roll, firm but not overly loud, the impression of her lifemate fading into one of the Acting Weyrwoman-- drums even quieter, steady, only to be broken by a biting strike before smoothing out once more. Yes, very different. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) Given the way Edeline's expression tightens, just minutely, perhaps her nephew is not that which she speaks of. It certainly doesn't seem to make her happy, but that's an emotion quickly suppressed. "Your Wingleader was gracious enough to assist us after your Wings elected to use our Hold," that's very definitely the royal 'our', "as a playground. He was gracious enough to apologise by that presumptuous usurpation of our autonomy. I do so appreciate being communicated with directly. I am so pleased to see that you have chosen to come and visit me, today." Her fine-boned fingers twine, resting lightly upon the beautiful fabric of her gown. There's a shift of Aishani's own expression, a similar tightening around her lips first at Azaylia's question, but it passes in a beat - as does whatever surfaces at the visible flaw in Edeline's armor. "And that lack of communication is something that is deeply regrettable. It would have been so much better to take it as an opportunity for us all to continue to practice the skills that it falls to us both to pass on for the future - on the ground as well as in the skies. Our Wingleader..." There's something nearly rueful in her pause. "Did the Weyr a service in that, however." Another few beats before, "Such lengths were not necessary to ensure a visit, Lady Tillek. But if there is a point you would like to make, you certainly have our attention." The gown has Shani's attention, if briefly - because, well. She can still admire, even now. A lofty soprano, carried so high by smoke that one may have to roll their gaze upwards to find it. The resigned sentiment is joined by Hraedhyth's contralto, « They are similar. » Too much so, « Their back-words mean not what they say. It is.. perilous. » Hraedhyth has little mind, even less patience for politics. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) He fell silent for a time, but Tsanth is there on the edges of Hraedhyth's mind. Blowing sand in the heat of her fires. « Mine speaks with the man. He is glad that Oswinth's is here. She is... better at this than he is. So he says. » There's lingering concern for the news that she shares of the meeting in Tillek. « Tell yours that we have secured their presence. They have camped but will stay in the morning to meet with the stores workers and deliver the tithes. All is well. » (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth) In threes, Azaylia's own expression tenses only after the reminder of Z'ian's rank, though it doesn't linger. She has no smile, making little effort to reach beyond her calm, attentive gaze, legs crossed at the ankle and hands folded much like Lady Edeline's. "I believe," Point being made that it is simply one weyrwoman's opinion. though it isn't meant to break what illusion of a united front there is. "Wingleader Z'ian's actions were on behalf of the Weyr. If that is unsatisfactory, then you have my apology as well." A moment of relief, tension easing from her in a delicate nod towards Lady Edeline. "I agree with my Acting Weyrwoman in that, if you simply wish for more direct communication, then this was unnecessary." There's no biting judgment, only more of that quiet calm that has lost some of that unease. A fresh bouquet carried in a sigh, relief flooding the connection with a pleasant heat. « Yours and Oswinth's have done well. » Hraedhyth and her bond aren't given much of a respite, smoke winding tightly upon itself, muscles tense as she shares, « We are trying. Tillek's Matriarch speaks well of Yours. We speak well of Yours. » Efforts are being made, but there's an uncertain tremble reverberating through her plains. There is no promise that things will end well on this end. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) "It would have been," agrees Edeline, lightly. "And had our people been given the opportunity to practice their skills, had it been a mutually agreed upon endeavor, well, perhaps matters might be different. Alas." Her hands lift, quite as if to say 'and so, here we are'. "Consider this... a warning shot across your bow, if you like." Of course a Tillekian would use a naval metaphor. "My Hold is not your playground. Not now, and not ever. We are not subservient to your wishes. My territory is not yours. In Interval, you need us more than we need you." There's the sensation that Tsanth has one eye on the things proceeding in front of him and another on the far distant scene that he observes with Hraedhyth. « Mine would like it if yours could convey our greetings to the Lady. High Reaches accepts and thanks for the tithes received, if yours hasn't already. » The thoughtful pause there that allows for the concept that this has already likely happened, but that Z'ian feels it's necessary for the bronze to convey such a thing anyway. « We are with you. » Even if they're far. (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth) "In an Interval," Aishani agrees, with a not so subtle emphasis on 'Interval'. "We do require the Holds to remember what is past and what is to come. And the Crafts." Her gaze on Edeline is sharp and narrowed; she's likely recalling some rumor or another about the wedding. "And do not worry about that. We certainly will. Consider us... no longer strangers." So if Tillek wants High Reaches up in its business? Shani will certainly make sure it's alllll over it. She stands in one fluid motion, ready to leave, before they're dismissed - not for Weyrwomen. "If there's nothing else? There's still your tithe to handle." Little does she know. Azaylia remains quiet, watching the Acting Weyrwoman stand with that pointed quickness. She follows Aishani up, neither fast nor slow, hands still folded in front of her skirts as her gaze finds Edeline. "Wingleader Z'ian sends his best, Lady Edeline. Thank you for your time, as well as your dutiful contribution." Polite formality, surely. While the weyrwoman doesn't look for any reason to linger, she doesn't share in any anxiety or frustration as far as those aforementioned tithes go. The reason becomes all too clear once the two return to High Reaches Weyr. « It is done. » There is no insult, no indignation to fill Tsanth's pause; not terribly reassuring that his reminder was for the best. Hraedhyth's heat builds from within, sharing that flood of warm relief, « We are coming Home. » Where they will not be so far. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth) "We don't forget. /We/ remember quite well what life is like during a Pass." Edeline's implication is clear: she doesn't seem to expect either of the goldriders to remember, clearly, what life during the Comet Pass was like. After all, it's been nearly fifteen turns. "No, there is nothing more. I'm pleased to see that we understand each other better, now. I will send word to my people to ensure our goods are delivered safely into your hands." Evidently, she has no follow-up to Z'ian's greetings, for although her cool gaze rests on Azaylia for a moment, she says nothing more. They are dismissed. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Direct Communication"Ceawlin (Ceawlin (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 17 May 2013 15:49:36 GMT.
Oooooh. This scene was good. I am glad I got to see the "other half" of what was going on!
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