Logs:Family Matters at Minecraft
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| RL Date: 22 November, 2013 |
| Who: Carella, K'zin, Rasavyth, Nazius, Telavi, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi "happens upon" or maybe just happens upon K'zin dealing with family matters at MineCraft Hall. |
| Where: Dining Hall, hallways, and the air above MineCraft Hall, Crom |
| When: Day 4, Month 5, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Kinzi/Mentions, Pharon/Mentions, Wazan/Mentions, Zakari/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| Rasavyth, for all his burnt cinnabar, is impossible to miss on a day so sunny as this. The way his hide positively shines under Rukbat's kiss is a dead give away to his position perched unobtrusively near MineCraft Hall in Crom. It's not as though he's trying to hide his presence, indeed, there's a sensation of a web of ooze casting out into the sky to catch the presence of any dragons entering the area; it's not borne of some ill-conceived possessiveness, but rather boredom. Today hasn't been terribly exciting for the bronze, so seeing who's out there gives him something to do besides wait. Sunlight! Sun, sun, sun! There's a flare of mental light and warmth at the sheer sensation of reentering light, warmer by far than the actual winds themselves, that's Solith's delight as she encounters this change from cloudier climes. She sweeps in unfettered swoops back and forth, and might never have noticed the ground at all if it weren't for that familiar ooze that has her peeking up and around and finally under her wing to scan and then see. « Rasavyth! » is bright too, if on a tighter band than that with which she greets the watchdragon, and she loops an extra time before beginning to descend towards the fireheights. Hello, hello. And, « Is it comfortable there? » It's a quick descent, one that quite soon sees Telavi hustling off her dragon and towards the stairs, Solith stretching her wings back in a way that would be wholly impractical for flight-- what with how it might dislocate her shoulders and all-- but is wonderful for scooping up sun. « Solith, » The tenor purr has a faint edge of surprise. It's not that he expected to encounter many foreign dragons in the skies above the Hall with his net casting, but Solith's presence is unexpected. If it's also unwelcome, there's no sign of it from the bronze. « It is comfortable enough. The sun is quite nice. » He admits with an oozy echo of the sensation of warmth on oiled hide. It feels nice, cozy, like his mindtouch so often is. « Do you come on here on duties? » The question is gently pointed. Not that Rasavyth doesn't range without K'zin, because he does, but it's a fair bet that if Rasavyth is somewhere he would deem only comfortable enough, he's probably here because of K'zin. « It is, » she agrees, stretching and stretching and stretching her neck, this time, until she's looking upside-down along the length of her tail, something that the grizzled brown amiably observes as a change from his usual sky-sensing. « We do, and are glad for it. Jikriath was going to, » one of his usual tasks, « but he gets so cranky when he has to move, and it is not as though even the older ones, » touched with the emotional connotations of older weyrlings, her charges, « may fly like we can. » Which may be more than some would want to know, may even be more than Rasavyth wants to know, but she's used to an appearance of interest in information. Which doesn't mean Solith can't inquire with pleased interest of her own, even while her rider downs the stairs and more stairs until they toss her out into a hallway, « And you? It is too bad we do not have even this much sun at home; perhaps you would like it more, then. » Rasavyth is ever the attentive audience. His invisible bugs snag each piece of information as Solith offers it and silently waltz them off into the web of his greater knowledge. There's empathy for the crankiness of Jikraith, « It was good of you to spare him. » He compliments in one of his typical meticulously feigned shows of interest. « And will you go when your errand is complete? » Another question delivered gently but pointedly. « I might like home more if there were more sun, » He concedes, sun is nice. « But it is nice enough to sit here in it for now. I am not on duty just now, so I may enjoy it at my leisure. » She rustles her wingtips, pleased anew at the compliment; she can be so easily pleased, can Solith, and perhaps she really is still so easily surprised as well. « Of course! We will not stay. It will get dark, and it is not our proper weyr. There are other deliveries to make as well-- » perhaps it's only then that the pointedness sinks in, for she unwinds her neck to look over towards the bronze, her tone suddenly hesitant. « You want us gone? » If Telavi's stride has slowed, too, it's nothing she cares to share with Solith either. But then, she has a headwoman, or a trusted assistant, to find... which doesn't mean she doesn't look, and listen, along the way. « Of course not. » Rasavyth's tenor purr is decisive but gentle; of course he does not wish them gone. « You know I always enjoy your company, my dear Solith. » Charm just oozes along the reflected breeze with it's leaf-dappled sunshine and shifting shadows. « It's just that my K'zin is having a very difficult time just now. His father-- Well, no. I shouldn't say. » There's apology weaving itself through those last words, those words that seem so very genuine, and just have that familiar edge of humor (out of place though it is here) and tang of "wrongness." And of course it would happen that right around that moment is when Telavi has the chance to glimpse -- or more than glimpse, if she likes -- K'zin in the dining hall. It's his custom leathers that give him away, and the back of his shaggy head. He's seated on a bench across from a slightly less dark haired man with light brown eyes and a thin moustache and goatee. The resemblance isn't striking, not with so many differences in face shape and skin tone (K'zin the natural bronze; the stranger paler), but if one looks hard the brotherly resemblance might be guessed at - or perhaps cousin or other more distant relation. Both have plates of food and the unknown is speaking softly, but animatedly to K'zin. K'zin looks grim; that's the only word for it, grim. That eases Solith's concern, a perceptible ripple, until it returns with predictably burning curiosity. He shouldn't say. She shouldn't ask, if only because it might do no good. « Oh, » she says, intrigued. « I am sorry it is difficult. » Of course she is. Telavi, however, has picked up a bright-eyed assistant who's pressed upon her the suggestion of a snack since she's come this far, and far it be from the greenrider to dissuade her, even if she weren't minded to nose about anyway. So it is that the two women walk in, Tela's whiskey-blonde head with its crown of braids tipped to the shorter brunette's looser mane-- which doesn't mean she's not casually looking about. Which doesn't mean that her gaze doesn't catch and hold a moment too long before drifting towards the other rider's companion and casually past. But it does mean that her voice drops a notch in reply, even if the brunette's doesn't meet her partway, and that she's particularly choosy about what jam she chooses to go with her buttered rolls, and also that she's a touch reluctant to follow the woman towards a table. Likely it would be wise to step in and suggest a place, somewhere distant-- only she doesn't. K'zin, the clown, is somber. Hardly living up to his familial role. Naz, however, is ever the provocateur. Besides, K'zin's being boring with his grim face and matching manner. So when pretty Carella comes near enough that he can lift a hand in greeting and give her one of his almost too-wide grins, a look that all by itself has the assistant at Telavi's side blushing, he's doing just that. It's more entertaining than talking to a somber wall. "Hey Carella, who's your pretty friend?" The grin is leveled on Telavi and in the grin, the family resemblance might be clearer. Maybe this is the brother that little Waki learned his goofball grin from, the expressions are of a kind. K'zin's head turns when his brother greets the assistant, a small but welcoming smile starting on his lips for Carella, and then-- Telavi. Small smile freezes half-formed and briefly confusion and shock slip across his brow, and something less identifiable but not pleasant; not like the last time. Carella's all too delighted to sweep right up to Nazius and his 'friend' with a quietly wide-eyed Telavi in tow, explaining, "This is Tela," of course she'd be 'Tela' to her by now, "who brought us a very interesting package for Balthan that I did not open, but nothing for you today, Naz-- though if you see Delvin, tell him to pick up his mail already, he can't avoid his uncle forever. Tela, meet Nazius," and she has fun with all the syllables, "and-- say, Waki, you're from the same Weyr, I don't have to introduce you, do I?" as though everyone at High Reaches should know each other. While she's chattering, Telavi is uncommonly silent, speaking of avoiding; Naz got an automatic flash of a smile, of course, but K'zin a speaking look after that initial twinge at his, apology in grave blue eyes and the duck of her chin before she's reshuffled her plate to be able to offer Nazius her hand. "Well met," she says, borrowing some of the brunette's cheer to put into it, and a bright smile that doesn't hold any dimples at all. "But I should leave you be. Carella's been so hospitable." It takes one-- no, half a look for Naz to decide that the proper course of action here is to warm his grin and insist, "Nonsense." Telavi's hand is taken and used to gently pull her closer to the bench on his side. The silent shake of K'zin's head to Carella that, no, she doesn't need to introduce them, only feeds the slenderly built brother's resolve. "Of course you must join us. Waki's being terribly dull this afternoon." The look K'zin gives his brother is sharp, briefly angry look, then as so oft is the case with grown siblings, an old pattern is found and settled into. This pattern? Naz meddling and Waki resigning himself, at least to some degree, to be meddled with. If he protests, it's silent and done only by staring at his plate, still so full of food. For Carella, Naz has another grin. "Well, you know Delvin..." He wiggles a thin brow, "But I'll tell him when I see him. Can you stay a while? Or do you have duties that must take you away from me too soon?" All the while... Telavi's hand is still in his; it's just to make sure she's not fleeing while he talks business, of course. Possibly Telavi should resign herself to being meddled with, at least if she's not going to flee, hand or no hand; as it is, when she moves to take her hand back and it doesn't work, she settles slowly to the bench and puts her plate there too, but there's something about the meticulous way she moves that-- if perhaps not to a stranger, though Naz does seem to be an observant one-- is not resigned at all. Which doesn't mean she doesn't smile, especially when Carella's assuring that yes, she must stay, and yes, she herself can stay a little while. For dullness, "Well, it's been a long few months for you all, hasn't it?" Carella sympathizes a little more than perfunctorily, more for Naz's brother than the situation itself; it's also been enough months that, well, one can only be sad for so long if one isn't related. And besides, it's Zianarius. K'zin's articulate in his answer to Carella's words: a grunt. His fork nudges a berry on his plate, carving a path through the salad of greens gingerly. Nazius gives K'zin a roll of his eyes. "Well, yes. But shells, he's been dragging it out. Some days, I swear he'd do the lot of us good if he just got on with it." The slender man's tone is practically bored. Bored with a slow disease taking its sweet time to claim their father. Bored with playing dutiful son. Or maybe just bored with K'zin being so damned dull. He's not dull in the next moment, of course. Up on his feet, his hands slamming flat to the tabletop, dark eyes glaring balefully into his older, taller, but not bigger brother. His lips part as though there are words he wants to snarl out at the other, but they die before they find his lips. The berry. It attracts Telavi's attention for a low-lashed moment, and she glances at K'zin before-- Nazius. She may miss the eyeroll, but not the rest, her brows quirking up in a way that's part 'Really'... and part a quick recognition that has less to do with who than what he might just be-- but whatever it is, there's no time to connect all the dots, because there's that slam and the china's just beginning to rattle when she tugs hard to take her hand back if she can. Not that she's quailing like Carella, though part of the same movement is sliding toward the other woman who sits at the table's end. Her eyes are bright, unafraid, even if the press of her own lips speaks of concern. Telavi's hand can be reclaimed because Nazius is turning a droll look on K'zin that borders on boredom. "What?" The unspoken, 'Come now, K'zin, why are you being so boorish?' is in his drawling tone. "I'm only saying what we're all thinking. You think Zak likes riding on your beastie to come up from Tillek every other day? Or that Kinzi and Waz have time to spare from their studies or need the all the prolonged worry?" With blood comes duty, but not, at least in Nazius' case, enthusiasm. K'zin's teeth grind and there's a dark fury to his expression. Again his lips part because surely there are words in him to refute his older brother's claim, or something to shut him up at any rate. But Naz's expression shifts to become knowingly victorious in the instant before K'zin's palms slam the table again, his lips all but slapping shut before he steps agiley over the bench and stalks for the nearest exit. The bronzerider's back is the target of another eyeroll. "My brother, so dramatic. Wasn't he always, Carella?" The tone is foppish and that of one who only deigns to be amused by antics that seem to be so far beneath him. At first Tela's just looking between them-- K'zin, primarily, is he going to just take this?-- with brows drawing inward; she can't think he'd thank her for interjecting and it's not as though he's given her the pieces that, whatever else the miner does, Nazius is doing right now-- she just doesn't know enough-- and throwing herself in the midst of dragonets is nothing on this. Telavi's quick glance at Carella doesn't help; the woman, who'd been friendly to her, actually chuckles in that slightly embarrassed, 'let's make light of all this awkwardness in front of visitors' sort of way. So even before that second slam Telavi's standing, flushed but not too proud to scrape up her rolls jam-to-jam in one hand. "I'm sorry, Carella, but I won't stay." There should be a cutting retort here, but perhaps Tela's already put too much effort into battling the temptation to stay and collect some dirt-- and the woman's murmur to Naz of 'Willful Waki' doesn't help either. Not that she stays to see whether Carella rolls her eyes too, busy striding off in the same direction as K'zin, though not-- in front of the other two-- breaking into a run. If Telavi looks back, Nazius' expression is briefly one of surprised satisfaction; he got two to run. What an interesting afternoon it's turned out to be... There's a congenial laugh for Carella's murmur, and at least for Naz, it's back to business as usual. K'zin's emotions fuel the speed of his exit into one of the corridors and down a twisting set of turns leading him further into the Minecraft Hall. He doesn't have to think about them; he just goes, the paths so familiar to him, even turns after he lived here. Eventually his emotion starts to bleed off and his steps transform into a dour stalk, fists still clenched and arm muscles tensed as they hold at his sides. A maze of twisty little passages, all-- almost all alike, but not quite, because only one holds Telavi's quarry at a time. She doesn't rush to catch up, only to keep track; if she doesn't have to think about the turns either, it's because she's just following... but maybe she is anyway, or should, because after this there's still getting out and she can't count on help at the end. Her boots aren't loud against the stone, but neither does she make an attempt at silence. As she walks she eats her rolls, one at a time. When he slows, she doesn't. And when she catches up, she doesn't crowd the width of the passageway and she doesn't say anything, either. The first attempt might be missed entirely, because, well, he's just still walking. It's an attempt to ignore, but not pointed, just he's still moving forward. Since that doesn't work (this is Tela after all), K'zin is left with two choices: confront or clear out (or attempt to). Since the later involves abruptly running and that somehow seems unappealing, K'zin stops. He doesn't turn. "What?" His baritone is hard. Tela probably has enough experience with K'zin to know it's the kind of hard that is preventing tears. She doesn't circle around him, though she stops, too. "He is a jerk," Telavi says definitively. But just as much, for all that it's softer, "Somebody needs to be on your side." K'zin grunts. It's probably agreement to the first since his next words are: "Always has been." Then, "I'm never alone." Maybe his misinterprets her on purpose. But there it is. "Like I said." Telavi breathes in, audibly, enough for a whole firestone sack's worth of questions; then she doesn't voice any of them. What she does is step closer, the merest fraction of air between them. "I'm fine." His voice is still hard, still fighting emotions that want to escape via his tear ducts. His fists tighten. "Anything else?" She hears that. She sees that. She says, "I'm sorry you're having to deal with that. With them." With him, not even that brother but the man who'd hit the Wakizian-that-was, who'd cast him out. Telavi reaches up to his shoulderblade, short of the overgrown hair. If there's space to say it in, quietly, "You can tell me how I can help you. I don't have to ask questions, and you don't have to say anything at all. And if you do, and it's to go, I can do that too." "I don't have to. It's my choice." K'zin stiffens at her first words, and then more when she reaches to touch him. The contact is all too brief because instead of answering her second question, the touch prompts him to step forward, and just keep stepping. One foot after the other after the other, away from her. Maybe that, in itself, is answer. It probably should be. Behind him, Telavi's shaken her head sharply, stuck her hands behind her back, and whatever she's muttering may make it past her teeth but not her tightened lips. Then as she begins to follow him, just a few steps for starters, "I respect that." Like it's something to respect. He's apparently paying attention enough to notice the sound of her steps, and with a sound that starts as a growl and ends in an annoyed sigh, he turns. Perhaps it's his dancer's step that makes it a thing of grace. "Are you going to keep following me? Or can you respect it at a distance?" This is not K'zin's nice voice. Not his appreciative voice. Not his understanding voice. This is his 'I'm being a butt and that's just how it is' voice. Not that he'd ever admit to such a thing, of course. If part of Tela knows all too well that she's following him yet again'-- well, there's something about her own light, deliberate steps that suggests she must also have a handle on why... and why it's different this time. "I can," she agrees, and as much as that sigh must have been warning, he doesn't sound so much like he's going to break down, now. But she can't smile, not even a little bit, not even with relief. She does pause, at least, some steps away. "I'm pretty sure I won't follow you into the latrines, if that helps. Where--" a hand flies to her mouth. As muffled explanation, "No questions, it's hard. But it would help to know... the way. Out." She hadn't dropped crumbs. "Well, that's a relief." The words that have an edge of humor, but it doesn't quite get there. It's not a friendly thing, really, or something to set her at ease, just what pops into Wacky Waki's head and out his mouth before he (or Rasavyth) have a chance to censor it. His expression briefly contorts as some other comment is made stillborn before it reaches his lips. "Rasavyth can give Solith a mental map." Easier than explaining. But then he does at least think to ask, "Can she get you out if he does?" Rasavyth might even provide a little blinky light on the mental map for Solith to follow. Or maybe a little dancing person, although perhaps that would be muddying the mental waters. "For the miners too, I imagine." It's a light response, never mind the opaque quality of her gaze; for once, reading K'zin's expression, Telavi also doesn't ask what he might have said. "I think so," she says. "Which means I can get on with the next delivery, thank you. And if not..." there's an even lighter shrug, "there's always knocking on doors." The greenrider even glances down the corridor, as though to pick one to try first. She could make friends. K'zin's body tenses slightly when the greenrider suggests knocking on doors. After all, this is his childhood home. Tela making friends here... well, who can blame K'zin for becoming Worrying Waki over that thought? "Who's your next delivery to?" His lips have a gentle downturn now, finding being helpful the lesser of the evils in contention. "I'll have Ras direct you on the map." It's been turns, but he probably still knows people... and if not from before, from all the time he's been spending haunting the hallways himself in recent memory. While under other circumstances Telavi might have replied, 'Crom,' here... why, her gaze slants back to her message bag and lifts with, "A Master... Pharon? Pharon, I mean," with a muted sigh because no questions, not even about names. "If that sounds familiar." No questions, it's still hard. But while she's at it, "What a place this must have been for a little to run around in; I saw the carvings in that other wing we went through," shaped from the living rock. "Check the latrines." K'zin can't help it. It's right there. His lips struggle for a smile and they manage a thin one. The words come at the same time as Telavi's starting to comment about what it must have been like growing up here. Now is not sharey-snuggle-bunny time, so his expression turns dour again and he takes a step back, away from her. "Ras will map the way to his workshop." And then he's turning to make a retreat. Retreats are only successful though if one isn't followed. Already Ras is carefully laying out the mental map, giving Solith what she needs to direct Telavi, but not the big picture because that might get confusing. That gets him a surprised laugh before she can transform it into a heavy sigh, because very funny. Tela crinkles her nose at K'zin, not to resemble a bunny or anything, and the amusement in her eyes stays there even when he's looking dour again, even when she knots her hands behind her back and stretches prior to that onward march. Once his back is turned, who's to say if she is following; certainly Solith doesn't yet update the map with any sense of motion, but then she mightn't, particularly if Telavi's walking quietly. Perhaps she really is just standing there. Perhaps she's looking longingly! wistfully! forlornly! angrily! disappointedly! good-riddance-ly! after him, instead of doing what she's doing: pulling a waxed slate from her inner jacket pocket and taking quick notes on that map before getting a move on. |
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