Logs:Explanations
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| RL Date: 28 November, 2012 |
| Who: H'kon, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del shares insight into his recent actions when H'kon seeks him out. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 5, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, B'sil/Mentions |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs. « Cadejoth. » Once the name is spoken, it's obvious the call is Arekoth's, but that brown offers nothing preliminary to introduce himself beforehand. His voice is low, but he speaks quickly. « Where is he? » And the emphasis on 'he' should be obvious, at least for a dragon who's flown with Arekoth so long. He. The other half. You know, that guy. (Arekoth to Cadejoth) That guy. Is Cadejoth amused by this? Probably - if subtly. The swish of metal chains marks his reply; the quiet rattle of bone upon bone. « Here, » he says, illustrating his reply with a vague sketch of the records room, complete with the smell of old hides and dust. It's a boring place, but... riders. Strange creatures, sometimes. (Cadejoth to Arekoth) To Cadejoth, Arekoth doesn't answer, except that his leap to action, to the air from his ledge, is promtp enough some of the wind noise might manage its way across to the bronze through the mental contact before it's severed. After that, nothing, as the brown carries his dour-faced rider across the bowl. Still nothing when H'kon goes striding through the caverns, shooting an eye-melting grimace to one of the weyrbrats who gets in his way, and, finally, pushes through into the records room. The records rooms are neither empty nor completely crowded; K'del is one of a scattering of people at work in the quiet room, his head bowed low over the slate he's using to take notes on. He's alone at his table, though, which is spread out with a variety of books which (should one take the time to look at the titles) all seem to relate to farming concerns. He flips a page; he doesn't glance up. If H'kon is not usually in the habit of interrupting the tasks of those in charge of things, he's even less inclined to get too closely acquainted with those tasks during such an interruption. So no, he doesn't read the titles. Once he's spotted K'del, has walked up to his table, and has introduced himself by way of speaking the other man's name, he stares quite professionally at a spec near the wall, looking overtired and cranky. One of K'del's hands lifts in that classic gesture of 'just a moment', while the other quickly scribbles down a few more thoughts - lest they escape in the meantime. One moment, two moments, three; then, abruptly, he sets down his pencil and glances up, regarding H'kon levelly, but with a certain amount of scrutiny set deep into the shadowed lines of his expression. He, too, looks overtired, but otherwise impassive. "H'kon," he says. "What is it?" "I would speak to you, if you have the time." His eyes slide over to K'del, still hovering neatly away from any of the work he's got on the table at the moment. "It's nothing pressing," somewhere in the bowl, Arekoth heaves a sigh, "if the timing is wrong." This time, K'del's gesture is clearly intended to indicate one of the empty seats and encourage H'kon to sit. That done, he closes the book in front of him and returns it to the pile, allowing his elbows to come to rest on the table, his chin coming to rest on clasped fingers. "Got time," he says. "Not exactly an especially busy man, these days." H'kon sits, moving the chair out as gently as he can, back in. "Indeed," is flat, and the brownrider sends a careful look around the room. Only then does he lean forward, hands folding before him, elbows rested on the table, gaze as intent as his dragon's in the hunt. "I have wondered why that is." If K'del has been attempting to anticipate the question on H'kon's mind, it's plain from his expression that this is not the question he'd expected. His expression falters, and his gaze lowers to sweep the table, focusing on anything at all except the brownrider's gaze. One hand drops, forcing him to shift his chin just slightly, and flicks through the pages of one of the books idly. "At present," he says, at length, "don't think I'm much use to the Weyr." The judgement he so often tries to keep more or less private is, if not spoken, at least plain on H'kon's face for that. It pulls his features into a scorning frown, and interlocked fingers all press down, against his hands against the table. "Ah," is later in coming than the initial visual response, and probably not so much the verbal answer he'd spent that time working on. "Then why come back," is a bolder question, but in a cautious tone, H'kon turning his head faintly to one side for the asking. Risking the briefest of brief glances upwards, K'del winces under the pressure of H'kon's judgment, though it tightens his expression a moment later. More firm, this time, is his reply: "High Reaches is my home. Maybe I'm not fit to lead her, now, when emotion is likely to cloud my judgement, but I won't abandon her completely." The fingers of his free hand form a fist, resting upon the table. "Ah," is ready at the gates, this time, issues from a face completely unamused, not particularly impressed. But, H'kon sits back, and gives himself some time to chew over what he's heard, stopping abruptly when his head starts to tilt toward the books on the table, and looking up and some away instead. "So," comes only after some reflection, "will you take your position back, or is the Weyr due a total change?" Both hands, this time, display K'del's meaning: palm up, drawn away from his chin and from the table, a clear gesture of 'who knows'. "The Weyrleader will be chosen by the first queen who rises," he says, quietly. "Depending on when that is, it... may be that we will chase." But it also may not. "No doubt you would be completely able to put aside your emotions over the murder of the woman you loved, in order to serve the Weyr. No doubt you would lead the investigation to find her killer impersonally. We are not all so detached." H'kon's eyebrows draw together only so slightly, and he straightens in his chair. "I would not have thought," isn't without shades of defensiveness, "that remaining as a leader in a time of chaos would have necessitated leading an investigation that, yes, surely would have been so compromised." Those hands clench together on the table, surely brought on more from something internal than a sympathetic reaction to K'del's fist. H'kon purposefully disentangles them, and brings them to grip the table's edge, individually. "In a time of crisis," says K'del, working hard to keep his tone even, "a Weyr needs leaders who can keep their heads. I made the best decision I could, at the time." He's regarding H'kon rather more straight on, this time, aiming to meet his gaze without hesitation. "If you believe otherwise, that is your prerogative, of course. As I am no longer a leader of anything, there is no need for you to respect me, if that is how you feel." H'kon doesn't shy from the bronzerider's gaze, keeping it even when he tilts his head just slightly. "I was curious as to our motivations." Untilting. "I know them now." Knuckles go white in turns as he flexes his fingers, a wave pattern, against the table. "At any rate, it makes little difference what I think of those at the helm. Or not. And as I told you, I was not asking for anything official." Even if those weren't rightly the words he'd used. K'del's sigh is a long, low one, and his gaze drops: back to those books, his notes, and everything else that he's clearly been working on this afternoon. "No," he agrees. "I understand. No doubt you are not the first to wonder, nor the last. Can't claim to perfection. Can't claim I was thinking clearly when I made my decision. Can only say I did the best I could. Best I can do. And that I will continue to do the best I can, for this Weyr, in whatever capacity I might be able to, in the future." And with that, H'kon relaxes somewhat, first unconsciously, then purposefully, pressing his back to the chair's. K'del's words are received only with a firm nod once they've had time to process through the brownrider's brain. He seems ready to leave, feet sliding under the table to be more beneath him, hands tightening once more in preparation to push himself up, when he freezes. "Do you regret your choice?" is a far less loaded question, at least in how it's asked. It may be far less loaded, that question, but it leaves K'del wordless for several moments. One hand lifts again, this time to run through slightly-too-long curls, getting tangled in their length. "Is it hard, watching other people run this Weyr?" A rhetorical question, clearly, and one that he answers for himself a moment later. "Of course it is. Should I have stepped back only temporarily? Maybe. B'sil would hand the knot back in a moment. But I..." he shakes his head. "Even had I kept it, it would be only temporary. Acting. The first queen who rises will choose. Better to give her a clean slate." H'kon waits, patient now (a far cry from only moments before), for K'del to finish his explanation. And such an extended discussion gets only, "Hm," from the brownrider. Relaxed limbs tense again, remembered preparation, and he gives a quick, "I appreciate your answers. Frank," is added by way of qualification. H'kon does stand, this time, his chair pushing back more noisily than it might have, had he given it the same attention as when he sat down. There's a pause, just to be sure all is said that will be. And then, he turns smartly, and heads for the exit. K'del watches H'kon leave, silent and still oh-so-thoughtful. Finally, however, he let his head drop again: back to whatever it was he was working on. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Thu, 29 Nov 2012 03:37:49 GMT.
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H'kon, asking the hard-hitting questions. >.< Poor K'del.
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