Logs:First Argument
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| RL Date: 19 December, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: M'wen and R'hin have their first argument about Satiet as their annointed Weyrwoman. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 31, Month 3, Turn 10 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Josilina/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Tavrie/Mentions, B'yan/Mentions, I'daur/Mentions, S'din/Mentions |
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| Despite it being late evening, R'hin's ensconced in the council chambers. It looks like he's been here for quite some time, if spread of hides over the large table is anything to go by; far from looking opulent and regal, the piles of hides give the room an almost cluttered air. R'hin's currently standing, leaning on the back of one of the chairs, a wine glass in hand. A furtive glance is given into the council chambers from out on the ledge, seconds before the rest of the brownrider strides in from the entrance, shoes tapping with almost an echo against the floor. A surveying glance is given to the hides strewn about the table, but M'wen's gaze soon shifts to the Weyrleader. He halts his movement before the bronzerider, face breaking into a warm smile. "It has been too long R'hin." is added in greeting, the smile now fading from the brownriders visage. R'hin straightens as he hears footsteps, looking simultaneously relieved and pleased to see the brownrider, "M'wen," he welcomes with a grin. "Our respective duties have been keeping us occupied. Would you like a glass?" he gestures towards the small sideboard, where a bottle of wine is already opened. Without waiting for a response, he moves in that direction. "You look--" he pauses, glances over his shoulder with a furrow of brow, then adds, "--tired. Troubled. Both." M'wen gives a slow nod to the offer of a drink, despite the fact that the Weyrleader seems to have already expected that answer. As the bottle of wine is fetched, he slides back a chair soundlessly, taking a seat, eyes following R'hin. "I, perhaps for the first time, feel exactly how I look. Tired because of my work and troubled because..." The comment trails off, silence again reigning over the chamber. A change of topic is in order as the brownrider adds, "And how have you been lasting without my counsel? I see the weyr has yet to lynch you, so I hope my scarcity has caused you no undue hardship?" "Because..?" R'hin prompts. It's not the first time he's pushed for more information, and it probably won't be the last, but he feels the need to ask despite the certainty no answer will be forthcoming. The splashing of the chilled wine into the glass serves to cover up part of the silence, the bronzerider refilling his own glass as well before he moves towards the table, offering one to the brownrider before sliding into the seat next to him. "I've missed your counsel," is all he confesses, with a shift of shoulders. "Satiet seems... she is pushing for action. I think she feels the threat of another goldrider." A faint twitch of lips that disappears swiftly enough. "Because. I will tell you, this evening in fact, just not yet." M'wen replies. not pushing the Weyrleader off the subject, just saving it for a more appropriate time. "Satiet seems to be...avoiding me these past days, seven-days even, perhaps I scared her off?" He gives a nod, a small grin offered, "Well I'm here now aren't I?" He quickly tacks on, quite likely more forceful then intended, "Which goldrider are you referring too?" R'hin accepts the deferral with an easy nod, seeming to take it in stride, a gulp of his wine soon following. "I hadn't seen her much since the hatching, myself - I don't think it's just you, my friend," he's a little wry. "She and her weyrmate seem to have parted ways." He says idly, as if merely offering the information, but a sidelong glance of pale eyes suggests he's curious as to M'wen's take on that. A low-throated chuckle, "Which, but our newest?" "Ahh, that could do it, though Satiet never seemed the one for moping." M'wen replies with a wry smile. "I assume it will make her even more attractive to the many 'suitors' about the weyr." His take, from the glance seems to be nonchalance, though a faint furrowing of the brow in evident. "I do not believe our weyrwoman is in much worry of problems from our newest goldrider. She seems...unlikely to be ambitious for power." He pauses with a shrug, "And seems sympathetic to our cause." "I wouldn't precisely say she was... moping." R'hin response with a twitch of lips. He leans forward, setting the glass on the table, and begins shifting hides into piles. "Ambition," he responds, with a shake of his head, "Rarely has anything to do with the schedule of a gold rising, which is what such things are based on." It's the latter comment that causes him to stop with his movements, turning to face the brownrider fully, surprise and concern in his expression. "Does she?" Brows furrow at R'hin's response. "I assume I'm best off not knowing," M'wen concludes, taking the wine glass he was given and swirling it experimentally with a faint sniff. "Does Satiet think that Nabrimeth will rise before Teonath? I highly doubt it, and if it does...well, I do not wish to be near the weyrwoman anytime after that." He tilts his head towards the Weyrleader, eyes searching, "Did you not believe her to be?" R'hin's shoulders shift in the faintest of shrugs. "Satiet worries that, should Josilina step down, there's a chance Nabrimeth might rise before Teonath. It is not out of the realm of possibility." He reaches once more for his glass, perhaps to give himself time to compose an answer as anything. "I do not know. You and Satiet have both said she has changed much since she Impressed, though. And we know," a wry grin, "From personal experience, how much it can change you. What she believed before she Impressed may not hold so true, now." It is, it would seem, a note of caution, glibly offered. "So if a series of unlikely situations arise, something not even that bad may happen?" M'wen replies off-handedly. "I think Satiet worries too much, more so then me even if you'd believe that." He gives a low chuckle, considering the results of impression. "I have talked to Tavrie. Impression has changed her, but for the better I'd like to believe. It is her that troubles me, but in a different way from our line of conversation so I'll address it later." He pauses with a blink, "How does Satiet say she's changed?" "Is it so unlikely, that Josilina might step down?" R'hin's brows rise. "That a little.. nudge or two wouldn't tip her over the edge?" And here, the bronzerider's watching his friend carefully for his reaction... whatever that may be. "In the usual Satiet manner," he says, dismissively, which probably means it wasn't very glowing. M'wen shrugs, "I was more referring to Nabrimeth rising before Teonath -if- Josilina does so. And the way you say it, it sounds like you plan on making her step down." He inhales sharply, almost anger visible on his face before he takes a subsequent deep breath and calmly states, "Yet impressing hasn't turner -Tavrie- into a shallow, spiteful and sharp-tonged 'I am perfect' as it has with some Goldrider we know." It seems his mild anger still is there, if nothing else but the tone. "Golds have been known to rise sooner than three Turns, sometimes as little as two. It depends," R'hin's tone adopts a sly, bemused sort of cant, "Whether the Weyr -needs- it, or not." A slight tip of head, pale eyes guarded beneath impassive expression. "-Make- her step down? I'm not sure I -could-, but if it were possible-- you're angered by the idea." He sounds faintly surprised, a querying tip of head following. "Mm. No. But Satiet, I well suspect, was like that even -before- she Impressed." "I am not angered by Josilina stepping down. It would be a surprise and blow to the weyr but..." He pauses, brow furrowed, "Actually, yes I am. It would almost certainly end up with Satiet as Weyrwoman which is something that I don't know if I could take." His eyes narrow, a slight flaring of his nostrils, "I don't know what to believe anymore, and I don't know if I can live in a weyr under her rule." A slow nod is given as he adds, "Teonath should rise at least once or twice within 2-3 turns I would expect?" "Satiet becoming Weyrwoman was the idea all along. Whatever else her... faults... she will bring change for the better, to this Weyr. That I know." R'hin's voice is strong, vehement, eyes somewhat distant. "You don't have to like her, M'wen. You simply have to believe that she is the best thing for the future of High Reaches Weyr. There is -nothing- she would want more, than to see the 'Reaches becoming a star ascendant, even in the Interval. We need her passion, her fire, her ambition-- all of it, if we are to see ourselves through these times." "So I have to lie to myself then?" M'wen replies simply, gaze resting on the Weyrleader. "I have considered the bad and good of her many times and no matter how you look at it, ambition, fire and passion don't outweigh the fact that when you say 'in the usual Satiet manner.' you mean bad, and in all likelihood, insulting to the mentioned parties." He pauses, letting it all sink in before adding, "I have faith that she will give the 'Reaches what we so desire, but at what cost? Is the rose worth the thorn?" "No, not lie," R'hin's voice lowers, and he looks unhappy, a little disheartened. With a slow exhale, he says, "Satiet is quick in her judgement of many, but I wonder if you would be so unhappy with her, had I not mentioned Tavrie?" With a twist of lips, fingers curl tightly around his glass, and he gives a sharp, almost angry jerk of hand. "It is worth it. It is worth my -life-, and I have already pledged that. I will not waver from our course." "Satiet has shown me nothing but contempt and distaste. How can you expect me to want to follow under her?" M'wen replies, drawling out the question. "You must think me trying to completely ruin what you've worked so hard to achieve, but if you can't see how she holds no thoughts for anyone unless they can be used to her advantage, I fear for the success of this venture." He looks to the table, no comment on the question regarding Tavrie, avoiding the troubled eyes of the Weyrleader. R'hin's puzzled, and surprised. "Contempt and distaste? The last I knew you were both getting along fine. Did something in particular happen?" A sharp shake of his head, as he murmurs, "I know exactly what she is. -I- am not so much unlike her, wise man. Do you then cast me aside, too?" His eyes are downcast, focused on his wine, deliberately allowing the other the avoidance of his gaze. "But you -have- changed, more so then you'll ever admit to." M'wen replies, anger gone from his face, oddly calm. "And she has not. I'll pretend that what I just said never happened, if nothing else but to not stress you further, but heed my words, I don't waste breath on uselessness." He looks partially troubled, refusing to answer the first question. "I would rather not get into my affairs at the present time, at least in reference to the weyrwoman." He takes another sip of the wine and looks at R'hin, looking for an escape from these hard words to something of a less, volatile, nature. "I've no wish for you to lie to me anymore than I've a wish for you to lie to yourself, M'wen. Should you do that, your counsel is less than honest, and I'd not have that... nor would I have you compromise yourself." The Weyrleader's equally troubled, pale gaze uneasy, fixed on his glass as if unwilling to glance at the brownrider just yet. Silence, for a while, then quietly, R'hin observes, "There is much you keep from me, M'wen. Leiventh has counseled me that it is for the best, and I hope so. I also hope you don't let it kill you in the process." A twist of lips, and the partly selfish, partly whimsical words - but no less truthful for all that, "I need you." Taking the words in stride, M'wen shoots back, "Then why deny what I say?" He clearly doesn't expect an answer as he rises to his feet and starts pacing directly behind the chair at hand. "There is something I will not hide from you, and it will not compromise Leiventh's counsel. It seems our newest goldrider 'saw' me as more then a friend," He stresses the 'saw' and grimaces, "But for once, my normal ability to guess this sort of things must have been taking a break for a while when I was around her. So I managed to say the wrong thing and now she's being, oddly formal and friendly in a way that worries me on her opinion of me." He adopts a wry look, "I'm a bit over my head with everything here and you've said that you wish to help." And it doesn't seem, at first, as if an answer will be forthcoming, but a short time later, R'hin's faint words are audible: "Because, for all your words may be truth, there is no other course open before us. We must do what is necessary. That is the burden we must bear, and what I cannot be allowed to forget." His fingers glide along the outside of the wineglass, collecting the condensation forming there, before his glance is slanted towards M'wen. He doesn't look in the least bit surprised, nodding as if it was knowledge he'd already guessed at. "As for our young goldrider... love," he grimaces, a little, "Is not something I'm exactly well-conversant in, and it is always a difficult ground to treat. My suggestion? If you think you've said something wrong, apologize, give her presents, and say you'd like to talk about where you stand after weyrlinghood. It leaves the ball in her court-- women seem to favor that a great deal." His tone is a tad wry, itself. "We can't deal with the lesser of two evils when there is but one evil to choose from." M'wen concedes, draining the rest of his glass. "I must speak with Satiet eventually, I'd like to believe my presense at least helped in your 'rehabilitation'." He doesn't look the least bit surprised that the bronzerider doesn't look surprised. "I guessed, but I don't let guesses drive my actions. You may not think yourself well-conversant, but you are a friend and the advice of a friend is what I need now." The slight glitter of pale eyes suggests R'hin's as much pleased by the label of friend as he is that the brownrider seeks his advice. "Then, talk to her, in a situation where she does not feel pressure. Give her the upper hand, so she does not feel distressed in dealing with you. Right now, you are an assistant weyrlingmaster. You have to--" he gestures with his hand, as if throwing away something, "--cast that off for a short time. She has had four months to adjust to Nabrimeth. Perhaps she will be willing to adjust to you, too, now." "Two things, first, I accidentally made it clear that she was just a friend too me," M'wen grimaces, twirling the empty glass of wine, "Which happens to be my trouble. And two, how do I go about casting off," he mirrors the Bronzeriders motion, "my Assistant Weyrlingmasterhood?" He pauses to cast a conspiratorial grin at the Weyrleader, "And how are things with you and Josilina?" "Oh, -that's- easy. Just tell her you were a sharding fool and didn't realize what you had when you had it." R'hin says, a mixture of wryness and humor in there, too, as he drains off the rest of his glass. "As for the other--" he breaks off, shrugging a little. "It's not so easy. I've tried, and it takes the littlest thing," he snaps his fingers, "And you're back. You just have to remember that you knew her -before- you were put in charge of her. Tell her, it's her place to keep her humble - just like you do for me." A low-throated chuckle follows this, the Weyrleader's good humor apparently having crept back. "At this rate, I've having as much trouble putting on the Assistant weyrlingmaster attitude as taking it off." M'wen returns with a chuckle, the Weyrleaders humour infectious. "I still can't get used to people calling me sir, hopefully I will, but I don't like people thinking they are less then me, or at least being forceably less then me." He pauses for a brief recollection, "I wanted to teach, not force our next generation to respect me. Nor to get them to hate authority and try as they will to get around it." He does, however, let a chuckle escape and add, "I will try that line though, if it works I owe you a bottle of Benden." Absently, R'hin rubs at his chin while he considers, seeming surprised as he confesses, "I seem to have adjusted to people calling me sir pretty well. I just sort of got used to it after a while. After all, they're addressing the -title-, not the -person-. It's easier to take, I think, when you look at it like that." He stands up, striding towards the sideboard to retrieve the bottle. "Help me finish this," he entreats, offering to refill M'wen's glass, "There will always be some who try, regardless. Like B'yan - he doesn't understand how good he has it under I'daur. If he'd had S'din--" he shakes his head sharply. "But I suppose he only wants to see what affects -him-. He's no thought for the Weyr." The words are rather dismissive, and are followed by a faint quirk of lips. "I'll take that, for sure." M'wen holds out the glass obediantly, letting the Weyrleader fill it. "With pleasure." He raises a brow, tilting his head towards R'hin, "But if not for the person, then why does the rank need it? If you don't mean the sir, why say it at all? B'yan seems to even use it as a derogatory term as far as I can tell, probably worse then not using it at all. It seems to all be for show?" A low chuckle escapes at the mention of S'din, "Maybe we are being too nice on our next generation? Think we could coerce him out of retirement for a sevens-day or two?" "It means different things for different people. Much like saluting. I only salute those I honestly respect. There aren't many," R'hin admits, with an unapologetic shrug. He moves to retrieve his own glass, refilling it. A flicker of a smile, "I'd considered it, but I wouldn't inflict such a thing, even on someone I've no particular like for. It would only serve to drive him from the Weyr-- not that he seems particularly partial to it, regardless." "Yes, but saluting from you is a lot easier to avoid then sirring as a weyrling." M'wen says, small grin plastered onto his face. "I do agree though, some weyrlingmasters are better then others, and S'din's not even on the chart, though which side I won't say." He drains the wine glass yet again an places it on the table. "I should probably get going soon, maybe I'll hunt down Tavrie and see how that goes." He gives a slight chuckle and turns for the exit. There's a tip of head, R'hin's only answer to M'wen's observation, the bronzerider thoughtful all of a sudden. It seems at first he'll say nothing as the man leaves, however as he nears the door, his low voice comes: "Is there potential, amongst them, wise man?" M'wen pauses, turning his head to look back at the Weyrleader. He scratches his chin and straightens his light spring jacket, getting ready to leave. "They all have potential, but it is how you use that potential that we leave to chance." "I do not like... chance," R'hin says, with an odd, strained note in his voice, gaze once more on his glass. He doesn't seem given to elaborate, though, merely murmuring, "Good night, M'wen." |
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