Logs:Do You Know What You Want?
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| RL Date: 13 February, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Vienne |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Vienne has a question for K'del. |
| Where: Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions |
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| Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr A heavy, brocade curtain separates the ledge from the weyr within, which opens up into a long, wide wallow and a walkway beside it. There's easily enough room for a bronze in here; the ceiling is high enough that sound tends to echo. Down the wall beside the walkway, small circles appear to float within the dim light like miniature moons; a high panel of them that's perhaps four or five times as long as a man is tall. They end abruptly as the wall curves around and opens out into the rest of the weyr. It's a good sized weyr, and laid out nicely with a fine collection of solid, expensive furniture. A niche off to one side offers built-in shelving and a desk set out beneath it, while much of the rest of the space has been taken up by a couch and several chairs, laid out in front of the hearth. It's reflective, that hearth, made up of squares tiled on point, many of which look very new indeed. To one side of that is a dark opening that might be another niche, or perhaps a passageway. A tunnel leads off from that dark opening - narrow, if still tall. It turns a corner and then opens out into an expansive room set against the other side of the hearth. Most of /this/ space is taken up by a bed that has clearly been made to fit the space exactly, although there's still room to step around to another niche - this one with a plugged basin above and a drain below. There are more of those moons here, too: moons that glow with light from the room beyond. It's another day of relentlessly heavy snowfall; this winter has been just miserable. It's mid-afternoon when Cadejoth drops back to his ledge and lets his weary rider down, post sweeps. K'del heads indoors, and even Cadejoth - generally loathe to sit still for longer than is absolutely required - crawls into his couch to doze. Inside, the bronzerider builds up the fire at the hearth, wandering around on socked feet, his jacket slung idly over the back of one chair. Oswinth offers some warning. « If he's free, » is all the dragon says, but that sense of coming is clear enough. The blue manages a landing without too much trouble, just an awkward backwing that seems to surprise neither himself nor the tightly bundled little woman astride him. She climbs down, her glance to the unusually sleepy Cadejoth is paired with the polite check of a nod -- just time for last minute refusals in case there are any -- before she peeks past the curtain to the weyr. "K'del?" she calls, eyes on the damp, snowy jacket and then the man by the fire. She hazards a smile, hopeful. She is likewise snow covered but apparently either she's getting used to it or she hasn't been out all that long, since her teeth aren't chattering away. « He's free, » confirms Cadejoth, with a quiet, whispering shudder of metallic chains, partially frozen over, and oh so very tired. To Vienne, as she passes, he huffs warm air, a welcome of sorts for all that it is made from behind closed eyelids. Within, K'del turns from the fire, giving the bluerider a tired, but not unhappy smile. "Come in," he says, with a wave. "Fire's still only warming up, but it's definitely warmer than it is out there." "Thanks," Vienne smiles, as if he's doing her a favor by allowing her in. She loosens the scarf from her neck and starts to brush some of the snow off her hat before she realizes with a halt, "I probably should have done this out there..." Her attention drops to the damp puddles and drips she's creating around the entrance, stepping gingerly to see how her boots leave prints behind. It seems like, on second thought, maybe she'll just linger by the curtain. She puts her hands in her pockets. "I wanted to talk to you." There might be something precipitous about the inhale she takes, the steady calm eyes that lift to him. "It'll dry," is K'del's easy remark: he's probably left plenty of puddles of his own, on these floors, though he's increasingly dry, now. "Only water, right?" Easy or not, there's something suddenly wary in his expression, something he can't completely hide beneath his friendliness. He meets her gaze with his own, equally steady, his chin just slightly lifted. "What's up?" He could make a joke about her ruining his mood again... he chooses not to. It probably doesn't help any that Vienne is slow to begin, her glance flitting away momentarily toward the fire, about his weyr, before finding him again. She starts, stops, starts again. "I've been thinking about what you said, about Brieli, about leaving." It might not be much, but she presses herself together to pause, and then steps away from the entrance, heading toward the chair where he's left his jacket rather than the warmth of the hearth. "Do you really feel that way? You'd rather leave High Reaches?" It doesn't help: it leaves K'del standing stiff and awkward, his hands balled by his sides. His gaze follows Vienne towards that chair, blinking only when absolutely necessary. Her question-- at first, it may even seem as though he doesn't intend to answer at all, because his expression doesn't shift, and his mouth doesn't open. Finally, however, he sighs. "It's hard to imagine there being much left for me, at this Weyr, under her permanent leadership. Don't like the idea of leaving. Hate it, even. But... it depends on how it happened, I guess. It's something I'd consider. Why?" That tense stare weighs on her, keeps her chin low, her teeth worrying at her lip. Rather than answer him, when he pauses, Vienne's mittened hand comes out of her pocket to brace against her forehead and shield her from his eyes. "Don't look at me like that," she murmurs, shoulders hunching. "I just wonder," she tries to explain, that damp mitten sliding down her cheek. "If an opportunity presents itself, if you'll be able to see it." She looks across at him, eyes uncertain, her mouth pressing small as her hand settles with a hold on her scarf. "Sorry," he says, dropping his gaze abruptly. It sounds genuine, too, and is followed by a half-turn from him, one that sets him to pacing back and forth across the room. "I don't-- what do you mean? 'If an opportunity presents itself'. See what?" His confusion, too, is genuine. Exhaling, lengthily, he lets his gaze sweep the room, though it carefully avoids Vienne, now, and digs his hands into the pockets of his trousers. This is the trouble with talking to straight-foward people. They need things spelled out. Vienne's brow furrows faintly, but at least her shoulders can relax with the tall bronzerider pacing instead of staring her down like a snake about to bite him. "I'm asking if you know what you want," she says gently, sympathy for his confusion. "I don't know anything. I don't know how things will turn out, for High Reaches, for you. Just... think about it." Already, she turns away from the chair, back toward the puddles that haven't had time to dry. That much, however, K'del does know: "I want my Weyr back," he says, quietly, not much above a whisper, but audible thanks to the relative quiet of the weyr. "I don't want her to win." He won't stop her from leaving, though-- though his brows do furrow in thought, and unasked questions do linger about the edges of his expression. She pauses to look at him, and also to wind her scarf back up, though there are small flinches when the cold, damp parts touch the skin of her neck. "I don't have any answers," she tells him, shaking her head a little for all those unasked questions he has. "And I don't know that there will be any chances." All she seems to have is a sorry little smile for him. But Vienne waits there, just in case. "I know," he says, matching his smile to hers. "It'd make things easier if you did, wouldn't it? If someone did. Silver arrow answer to everything." There's something self-mocking in his tone when he says that, as he reaches up to scrub at his face with both hands. "Guess it's still worth asking the question, though. Otherwise, what am I fighting for? But there it goes. Keep making me think, Vienne." Her brows bounce up as a laughing breath leaves her, tacit agreement for how much easier it would all be is someone had an answer, any answer at all. Vienne winces a little to see him scrubbing his face, to know that she keeps bringing these dark moods to him, and it keeps her feet from carrying her any further for the moment. "It was a little more intentional this time," she admits. "I'm sorry. I don't know if it's the right thing. I don't know that there are any right things to do in all of this. There's just what happens and what doesn't, I guess." But she has to check: "Are you okay?" K'del's shrug is easy, and a pretty good indication that some of the tension is trickling out of him, now, bit by bit. "I'm okay," he promises. "And - good. Don't apologise. Do what you have to do. Ask what you have to. I'm fine." He'll stop pacing, too, as if that alone will convince her that he really is fine, that this hasn't really upset him again. His smile is not brilliant, but it is, at least present. Vienne tries to encourage that smile with one of her own, though it's hardly a cheery affair for her either. "You know where to find me," she tells him, though she doesn't many any pressumptions about the 'why' or 'what for'. There's just a lift of her hand, a muted wave, and then she turns back to the ledge, to leave him with his thoughts and his afternoon's rest. |
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