Logs:Dueling Weyrleader Wannabes
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| RL Date: 25 January, 2013 |
| Who: Taikrin, H'kon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Wannabe-Weyrleader Taikrin confronts Wannabe-Weyrleader H'kon on the day after the dual goldflights. Tradition versus revolution, go! |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 11, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Teris/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions |
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| Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr The vast cavern has much the same odor of redwort and numbweed as the human infirmary, though here it's seasoned with coppery ichor rather than the iron of blood. It's also laid out similarly though on a much more massive scale, its walls lined with a number of places for patients, in this case large dragon couches recessed into the floor for ease of access; nearby cots provide space for riders. Tucked into the western curve is a huge circulating pool of warm water, by which are kept vats of oil. The healers' duty station is a counter on the north side of the room, a checkpoint before the storage rooms behind it that are now shared with the human infirmary, hosting supplies that are as neatly labeled and carefully scrubbed as the rest of the infirmary. The senior dragonhealer has an office there as well, and human-sized double doors have recently been built as a direct route to the human infirmary, while opposite a wide winding tunnel leads to the east bowl. It's very early afternoon when Szadath reaches out to Arekoth with ice-wind mindtouch flaring in time with Hraedhyth's drumbeats. « Yours and mine. They need a meeting. » He flashes an images of the dragon infirmaries, flash-fire quick, then is gone. And then back. Begrudgingly, « Please. » And, even more begrudgingly-- as if through gritted teeth, « They would like to see you as well. » Where 'they' is dragonhealers with their stinky pots and sharp needles and-- Szadath cuts out there. In the infirmary itself, Szadath is not-so-patiently having his battle-wounds tended and sewn while his rider bears it with gritted teeth. No soporifics for her: Taikrin has acquired hides from somewhere, and she's trying very hard to focus solely on them, and not the neat stitches that are pulling the rents in the brown's hide shut once more. « Others were more damaged than I am. I'm sure it can wait. » And if that's buoyed at all by hints of waters, that's surely more to do with his being in contact, mental or otherwise, with Iesaryth than anything; Arekoth is not a dragon of imagery. There's a pause, blank, even of reflections of other minds, before Arekoth at least offers the assurance of, « He says he'll go. » (Arekoth to Szadath) H'kon takes some time to get himself to the infirmary - the time of one travelling on foot. The frown is deeper than his usual face, and he's got to the point of meeting eyes almost challengingly with anyone near him, having heard no small amount, clearly, on his route already. And this is only day one. He acknowledges and is acknowledged by the dragonhealer, makes so wide a berth of Szadath as he can, and goes to his rider. "Taikrin." The worst is over with by the time H'kon arrives; it's only the lesser injuries. like his wrenched shoulder, being treated with linament and numbweed. There are still lines around Taikrin's mouth, though, when she looks up from her reading to greet H'kon. "Oh. H'kon. 'Afternoon." There's a forced casualness in her voice, and the way she leans back in her chair. "Glad you could stop by. Hope we weren't interrupting nothing? We know how it can be, day after a goldflight." She and Szadath, they're experienced. "You weren't interrupting nothing," H'kon replies, voice quiet, enunciation precise, rhythm steady. The boast, or whatever it is, receives only the slightest lift of his eyebrows as the (male) brownrider brings his arms over his chest. He waits a moment, long enough, hopefully, that the topic can shift by its own rate of decay. He looks to Szadath, but the brown or his state get no pleasantry-styled inquiries. Back to Taikrin, it's just, "Why did you have him call?" Taikrin's gaze follows H'kon's over to the brown, though hers lingers there longer until recalled by his question. "Well," she extemporizes while she gathers her wits. "With all that's happened, I reckoned we ought to talk. First. Present a united front. " When her gaze does swing back, it's hard with a determination echoed by Szadath's sharply whirling eyes. "They're going to try to pit us against each other so that they can take over, you know." H'kon seems, indeed, to be listening to all that Taikrin says. He doesn't look away, he doesn't fidget. He keeps his face relatively stoney as she talks, as well. And even once she's done, he's a while in answering, one hand rotating in the pit of the opposite arm's elbow as he stretches his wrist. "Are they," is the best he can come up with in the end. "You know they are. K'del, and whoever he can rouse." Taikrin's expression hardens as well, though heat bubbles just below the surface. "I ain't-- I'm not going to dance around this." It takes effort to school her sticks-accent into something a little more dignified. "Where do you stand on this? Hraedhyth rose here, everyone saw Szadath catch her." The brown twitches and nearly rises, much to the scolding of the healer checking the last of his contusions. Taikrin seems to ignore his antics, though she still hasn't gotten up from her chair. "I'm willing to work with you." "Are you," is much the same tone as his previous almost-question, mostly-acknowledgement. H'kon rotates the other hand now, and on that one, his wrist does indeed crack. He shifts his feet, stance widening just a touch. His brow stays mostly heavy, features set. It's a shame the man doesn't play more poker, with that face. "To what end?" Taikrin finally pushes to her feet in one smooth, deliberate motion and rests her hands on the surface of the table. "Leading the Weyr. We've got to act quick, and we've got to strike hard, and begin as we mean to continue." Her lips press together, then quirk into a smile that's all business. "If you ain't interested in leading, I'd appreciate your backing so as we can make this all as painless as possible. It's time the Weyr got some stability, don't you r-- think?" His eyebrows dip down at the idea of 'his backing.' H'kon draws himself up so best he can, for all that he is, as usual, at a height disadvantage. Arms never uncross from his chest. "I agree, we must act quickly. And the Weyr does need stability, desperately." He raises that bearded chin, just a bit. "I wonder if you had considered this before you allowed your dragon to chase? Stability will not come from upsetting a foundation." Taikrin draws herself further up to match, arms loose at her sides-- a ready stance if there's ever been one. "That's what we mean to bring. Szadath wouldn't have caught if he weren't what the Weyr needs. Everyone knows that." She's still smiling, sort of, though it's with some obvious effort. "Are you talking about Szadath's color, or what's between my legs? 'Cause I don't see how either one is all that relevant. Unless you mean something else entirely?" Her voice drops dangerous, turning momentarily gravelly before she manages to pull it back together. "I see we ain't at cross purposes on this. No need for us to be. We both got the best interests of the Weyr and our Weyrwoman at heart. Same as we did before? Word has it you're just as interested in protecting them as I am, yeah?" "If you think you will sway the Weyr to support a brownrider and woman based on 'what the Weyr needs' - especially in a flight so bloody as this one," and he looks over to Taikrin's brown once more, "seems to be... Already, people are talking. There is not a precedent for this. There is now a precedent for dealing with leaders who are not accepted, misguided though it may be." It's only the pensive pause that keeps it from becoming a full harangue, that disconnects the next from what preceded: "And you said Weyrwoman. I wonder which one you mean?" "What, just because none of the oldsters remember a brownrider Weyrleader don't mean one hasn't happened. For all we know, it's a thing that happens every Interval." The heat flushes two bright spots into Taikrin's cheeks, though she manages to keep herself from sounding overtly hostile. "It ain't like we exactly have a lot of Interval records floating around seeing as how the last one this Weyr had was what, six hundred turns ago? I looked." She gestures at the records on the table, then plants one hand flat atop them. "People'll talk. If they see someone strong stepping in, it'll end there." She does not address the question of which Weyrwoman is which. "Or, perhaps, it will be seen as entitlement, or as a challenge. Perhaps their resistance will increase, and the Weyr truly will find itself irreparably divided. Into how many parts may yet remain to be seen," can't be managed without some bitterness creeping into his voice, and it's here that H'kon does uncross his arms, and rub at his forehead quickly - until he catches himself in the motion, at which point his hand drops. "Well, it'll be one fewer part if you stand with me. And with the Weyrwomen." This time, she's deliberate in her choice of both of them; her eyebrows raise for emphasis. "Szadath showed everyone he was worthy. Arekoth too. Hraedhyth backs Szadath, not a bronze, whatever their egos might want. The queens choose the most worthy." Taikrin draws back again, hands on her hips, and eyes H'kon appraisingly. The question she finally asks is flat, her voice undeterred. "Do you stand with me? With them? For the good of the Weyr?" "I think you put too much stock in the 'choices' of the queens. Iesaryth, at least, barely had choice at all. If this were Hraedyth's fifth flight? Tenth? Then, perhaps." And H'kon shakes his head. "I have put the good of the Weyr first since impression - since Search was even suggested to me when I was young. Of course that is what I stand for now. Is that what you stand for? Speaking as a revolutionary, bringing something new? Tradition is memory. And your claim will not be indisputable, even if you have the backing of all three of us." "It is indisuputable. The dragon that catches the senior queen is Weyrleader. Hraedhyth rose here, full-witnessed, full of choice. Don't get much more traditional than that." Taikrin is making a colossal effort to rein in her temper, though it has Szadath lashing his tail and sending an apprentice dragonhealer scuttering out of the way with a curse. "I ain't so different than any other rider. Than a bronzerider. If the queens say so, none of the bronzes'll make a fuss. Without the backing of the bronzes, the riders'll fold. Simple as that." There's such conviction in Taikrin's voice, in the passion that has her cheeks flushed-- it's easy to believe that she believes. "We can put things back to rights, all of us. Make it better, since it ain't been since we had a Weyrleader overthrow one Weyrwoman, get another killed, and send off two others." "There is no senior queen," H'kon snaps. He then takes a moment, draws himself back, relaxes his shoulders, and once again folds his arms over his chest. "You are a woman, and your claim is diluted by that, whether you like it or not. I believe the majority will balk at it. The Weyr as a witness will not change this. And I am a brownrider, which will affect Brieli's challenge of Azaylia, if she should make it." A sigh eases some building tension in his voice. "What we need," comes far more measured, "is to remember that High Reaches does not exist in a vacuum. We need to look outside the Weyr. A Council decision would carry legitimacy, which will be needed in a situation so different from what it should be. From what tradition dictates. There is an order to things, and it has been upended. Skirted." And he can't even smile for the pun. Taikrin visibly bristles at this reminder: her jaw clenches, and her hands tighten to fists. Still, her feet remain planted, and there's some measure of control to her voice. "They'll accept it if the queens accept it. If you accept it." She takes a deep, steadying breath. "Outside Council influence got us into this mess, didn't it? Got our Weyrwoman removed. High Reaches is strong enough to stand on its own, without another Weyr trying to come in and take over. Do you want to see Monaco finish what it started?" Szadath rears up, finally, as the dragonhealers finish their work and back away. "R'hin tried to take Azaylia during the flight, right in front of me. Ista sent that bronzerider-- H'vier? They're already after us. We can't trust them. We got only ourselves. Azaylia's got the better claim, but I reckon she'll work close with Brieli. Share. I'm offering you the same, right now. For the good of the Weyr. Two brownriders ought to be more'n capable of matching one flaming bronzerider, yeah?" "So then you would isolate us entirely from the other Weyrs? There is a difference between matters of what amount to Weyr law, and internal affairs." And now, H'kon's failing patience with this conversation is beginning to show, that face cracking in places, and hands starting to curl toward fists, even in the pits of his elbows. "I find it worrying that the only course of action you seem to see as the correct one involves your being in power, with no regard for any interpretation of tradition but your own." No, he doesn't see the irony. "You continue to say you have the good of the Weyr at heart... I've not seen it." "What tradition are you looking for, exactly? The one where we overthrow our Weyrwoman? Stake 'em out for Thread, maybe? Everything I do is for them. Protecting them. I stood outside guard outside their weyrs for sevens after Monaco killed Ysavaeth. I looked after Iskiveth, until K'del sent her away. Looked after Iovniath, after Tiriana, for all the good we did. Way I heard tell, I hoped you felt the same about protecting them. Maybe I was wrong?" Taikrin's attempt at a civil smile is curling more towards a sneer. "If you're too worried about what everyone's going to think of you, maybe I'm talking to the wrong rider after all." Szadath mantles his wings, stretches to test his stitches, then pushes his way back out to the bowl with a low growl punctuating every stride. "I wanted you with me before we met as the four of us. I'd like to have you yet, but you are NOT going to stop me working it out with Azaylia and Brieli. Someone's got to be Weyrleader and watch their backs... and I reckon it's going to be me." "Yes, and what you've done until now has been perfectly acceptable from a brownrider, even from a woman, and will not create any further faction within a good portion of the Weyr's population. But you refuse to see this, because you take it as a personal slight. There is an order to things, and it is not what you would have it. But that does not mean it is not there." Those hands are fists now, pushing into his biceps. Tendons show on his neck for a moment, though he manages to relax it. "Council would decide more than Weyrleader, at any rate - a thing you, I suppose, are not now considering either. Azaylia does have the better claim, when compared to Brieli. Do we want them sharing? Uncertain. You and I both know Azaylia will try to share the role. But for one fearing external influence, I would recommend you be cautious of the other goldrider." Physical displays are nothing new to Taikrin: she doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at the corded muscles on display. Instead, her gaze narrows somewhat. "Cautious of Brieli?" Szadath is gone, now, presumably to impose himself upon Hraedhyth's person and make the most of her attention to his battlescars. "One of them has to be senior, and you're right. Azaylia's claim is better." She seizes on this point as a victory, and pounces forward from there. "Only right for her to lean on Brieli while she's still finding her legs. That don't make her any less Senior. Hraedhyth will assert herself. Szadath can feel it." Taikrin goes absolutely, completely still. There's a tension in her predator's stance, a passion audibly thrumming in her voice. "I ain't stupid. I know people take issue with who I am. But order's what you make of it. We can remake it." H'kon starts to look more on the tired side - maybe even sad. He shakes his head, certainly not for the first time in the encounter. "The senior queen is the one who rises first. They rose together, only Iesaryth was south. Azaylia's claim is only geographical, and you do weaken it, and you must be aware of that." But this is lead-up, and he doesn't speak it confrontationally, even for the emphasis. "Iesaryth rose at the same time in the south, but only with a Fortian bronze as her chaser. Until Arekoth and I came upon them. So let us go to a council, and be willing to accept whatever decision comes as Weyrleader. The senior queen will remain until removed. Weyrleader is not necessarily a consistent position. That is more the good of the Weyr. And we will not achieve it on our own." And if his voice has got almost impossible to hear, well. That's just caution. Or dismay. Taikrin considers it. She really, truly considers it. She's quiet, gaze flicking back and forth as if literally reading between the lines. Finally, firmly, "I'm not going to make this call for them. The weyrwomen. We need to meet, the four of us. I'll abide with their decision, if they decide it's for the best to go to the Council." As much as the words sound like capitulation, there's still a hard certainty in her tone. "You got some good points, H'kon, I ain't going to deny it. I can use you." Was she even listening? "Szadath's back with Hraedhyth. I need to check him, and I reckon Azaylia as well. I'm sure she'll be amenable-- the four of us, this evening in the Council Chambers? I don't want to let this linger overlong. It's bad for the Weyr." H'kon greets Taikrin's maintained facade of superiority with only a twitch of his eyebrows. Downward, of course. "We can agree on that much. The Weyr has been in limbo for too long." A curt nod of his head, and the man turns, a soft murmur of, "Lost between," maybe for Taikrin, or maybe just a much-needed vent of at least some emotion. Incremental is better than none. |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Sat, 26 Jan 2013 10:01:59 GMT.
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I love Taikrin's listening-not-listening.
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sat, 26 Jan 2013 10:41:18 GMT.
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I love that both think they've got the weyrwomen figured out in their own way. That their solution is best. Dueling indeed.
Zian (Zian) left a comment on Sat, 26 Jan 2013 15:29:58 GMT.
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This was a really excellent scene. I loved both of them.
Leova (Varied) left a comment on Sat, 26 Jan 2013 16:25:46 GMT.
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The crazy thing is, yes, I think H'kon just might have listened more. By a fraction. Can't wait for the follow-up!
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