Logs:Gold-Digger
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| RL Date: 16 December, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Aseana, G'laer, Ghena, Ilicaeth, Knioth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gallagher has a visitor. Ghena and Alida are not helpful. There are truths and half-truths and tempers get hot. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 7, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, B'gherio/Mentions, Gaelan/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, J'vain/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Leara/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Sharl/Mentions |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
For a moment, Alida herself can't help but notice the shrieking dental drill that is the holdbred female rounding on that poor brownrider...and the bluie rolls her green eyes skyward, as if asking for patience from on high. A few of the more observant senior weyrlings manage to notice this, and one of them is dense enough to snicker aloud...until the pale-blonde woman's gaze snaps like a switchblade to him. "Can that crap right now, weyrling!" is barked out at the offender, who looks startled, confused, and irate by turns...though he does indeed shut up immediately. "Any one else gotta' comment?" 'lida then raps off curtly, all pairs of eyes now attending her instead of the stupid scene beyond them. Luckily for everyone, nobody responds with anything other than a rather militaristic and loud, "No ma'am!" all together. "Alright, then!" their drill instructor barks back out to the assembly. "Remember what I taught ya t'day: think on yer feet, but don' over-think...'r else y'll end up like Sharl...'r worse." Said weyrling Sharl who is now in the company of the Weyr's Healers nursing a black eye and a slightly bruised rib. "Class is dismissed inta' J'vain's hands!" As the seniors salute their instructor and then scatter generally towards the assistant WLM, Alida takes a moment to study that silly holder gal and brownpair. Ghena is trotting alongside Knioth on their way back from the lake, the silvery blue gleaming from tail tip to wing sail freshly oiled. The woman is regarded by Knioth who then promptly dismisses her as a peasant and trots on more keen to show off his sheen to the females of the older class. Ghena doesn't quite face palm, but there is an expression of the deepest pity for the brown rider who clearly got the short end of the stick on transport duties. Not her problem, and fortunately for Ghena she didn't look enough the part of a lady for Knioth to bother with her. "All right then, let's check your straps one final time before airborne laps." She tells her life mate. Because screaming women are so not her problem, someone messed up with the silver threads, truly. Understandably, the brownrider isn't dismounting to further guide the woman who looks as comfortable as a wherry in the midst of hungry dragons. So when she demands, "Which way?" All she gets is a point before she's ducking for cover because the dragon didn't seem to care much for her attitude either and his launch has her clutching her hat to her head and one hand down over her skirt as though it were libel to fly up, despite the doubtless weight of the layers of it. The way she was pointed, of course, happens to be in the direction of the weyrling barracks. And so it begins, the nearest person is asked... well, not asked so much as demanded of in a cranky timbre, "Do you know Gallagher?" And the next, the same. And the next, until she's approaching a point at which it's as likely that Ghena becomes the next or Alida. Who'll move first and tip her in their direction? Volunteer? Anyone? Anyone? Alida, too, doesn't much care for the prissy holder's shitty attitude, and when she unknowingly and foolishly inquires of the bluerider where G'laer might be, the blonde woman whirls around and locks those merciless, cold green eyes upon her as if she were a specimen of amoeba to observe under the lens of a microscope...or worse. "Apparently yer family didn' teach ya much manners when addressing riders." Her delivery sounds like it might come from at least the middle of the Weyr's command chain, though 'lida wears no cord or other sign of her rank, right now. Her chill, crisp alto manages to make it seem as though she's not only staring down her nose at the holder, but also staring her down with a hunter's eyes. Ghena and Knoith's general approach is noted by astute senses, but she's mantling over her prey, right now. Now that catches her attention, and hazel-green eyes turn to study the woman more acutely. Surely Grr wasn't quite so stupid as to impregnate a self-important holder, though it would make for a tasty bit of scandal to hold against him with all his lectures on responsibility. As delectable as the thought might be, she knew that like most of the things she secretly wished for, it was unlikely to be true. Eyes a whir of curious color, Knioth takes cue from his life mate as she strides over, offering a salute to Alida in the process. "No one here by that name Miss . . ." It wasn't a lie at all, thanks to that bucktoothed slobber ball he called a dragon. "And apparently your taskmasters-" The fact that she calls them that only shows her ignorance, but the woman is hardly about to admit that, "-didn't teach you to sort with whom you're speaking." So, she has backbone, even if she's on the defensive for simply being in the Weyr, "A simple 'I don't know him' would've sufficed, rider." And the title does not infer respect. She must be from one of those holdings. On her cloaklet's neck are a pair of badges, one that indicates wherever it is it's beholden to Crom, and the other, which has alternating pink and brown slats on a diagonal, an obscure holding to be sure. Since Alida's not proving to be helpful and Ghena's at least calling her 'Miss,' it's to the weyrling she directs her next words. "I was told he Impressed; this is where they keep the young dragons, isn't it?" At least it seems Alida's chiding had some mild effect, as she's trying to be a touch more polite. Damn the whole political system straight to Between! Alida isn't much of one to deal with the subtleties, and when she can't get the little prick to back down enough, the blonde has to curb her impulse to backhand the snot. This, however, isn't even observable on her cold features or within dead green eyes. But she and Ilicaeth can feel it...and the flare of emotion from his lifemate quickly enough has the once lazing blue now gliding over, and finally landing beyond the little gathering. And while the holder and Ghena are interacting, the slatey-tough dragon is stalking over to the triad...and turning his multi-colored gaze down-down-down upon the woman-in-capelet. Coppery claws flex, retract, flex over and over even as the blue's tail twitches lightly...and his lips curl backwards slowly while that great head lowers. How bright and sharp those 'grinning' teeth are. "Yes Ma'am, but I warn dragons are temperamental beasts, and they respond to outbursts of emotion, and well your unsettling them a bit." After Alida's blue lands, "So if you would please moderate your tone, I think we can all get along quite nicely?" The words phrased in such a way as to mask the threat in them. Wow only G'laer would dig up someone this frigid. Maybe it's a secret engagement. Ghena thought with secret glee. To which her life mate merely looked at her. It could happen. « I Doubt it. » To Ilicaeth the blue bugles greeting. "As I said before, no one here by the name you mentioned. I might be able to find him for you though, what business do you have with him?" Mild and curious the words spoken gently. Oh please let it be a secret engagement and babies. That would be marvelous. Perhaps it will be at least a little satisfying for Alida that when Ilicaeth does land and stare down at the woman, she shifts nervously, trying to move so that she can keep the lot of them in her line of sight at once, which isn't really possible to achieve and still be at a reasonable distance for conversation. So it is with this distraction and many small attempts to reposition that her answer comes to Ghena. "He's behind on his payments. They've stopped since he came here. And it's unacceptable. I need to speak with him. Do you know where he is?" She has acquiesced to modulating her tone. Perhaps the idea of making the dragons unsettled had the same effect on her. Each word is carefully enunciated, but she's keeping her annoyance in check. Ilicaeth gives Knioth an amiable rumble back to answer his bugle...but to those not in the know, the draconic vocalization could very much sound like a threat. Ghena's salute is greeted with a hard little nod of acknowledgement, which soon turns into a lazily-drawled, alto "Since yer demanding a name from us, politeness demands ya offer one back..." to miss priss holder. "Weyr security demands it, too." This time, there's some small suspicion, as well as continuing, earnest hardness behind that chill voice. In those green eyes now lurks a dark curiosity for just what G'laer has to pay off, too. Not as much fuel in that, and it's all Ghena can do to keep from narrowing her eyes. "I'm also sure you are aware that until a dragon fully matures, the rider cannot be held liable for bad debts. If he's been gambling, you've at least three quarters of a turn to go before this batch can be considered adult." She brushes the smooth hide of her life mate's foreleg. He joins in the vocalizations of course because it's fun to do what cool big brothers do. There may be more in the rumble than just greeting. To Ilicaeth, Knioth projects « Mine wishes to know what yours would like to do about the rude one Sir Ilicaeth. » Golden sands - gritty and scouring with dark, edgy humor - swirl about the younger blue, Ilicaeth's baritone soon answering with a blackly-genial, « Make 'er sweat some. We've seen Lords 'n Ladies behave better 'n that twat is. » Rumble. « She likely ain't a security threat. She's too effin' obvious. Still, Alida doesn't trust 'er. And since we ... » an image of Glacier's wing badge swirls into view for a moment « ...help protect, provide security fer the Weyr, that holder ain't steppin' one foot further inside it until she tells us who she is and where she comes from. » (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) The dragon noises are a further distraction and it causes the woman's feet to shift under her, nervous tension in her frame though her face holds more exasperation. "Not a name, just a location." But the request doesn't seem entirely unreasonable. But before she can get to answering the bluerider, the weyrlings words of gambling have her rolling his eyes, "If only his debts were so finite or negotiable. And don't think I don't know he has saving squirreled away for all that he's always claiming to be broke." Another eyeroll, then impatiently. "I'm Aseana." Since clearly, by now, she's decided that at least one of these two does, in fact know Gallagher, she seems to expect some kind of recognition. Her arms cross when it's not immediately forthcoming, "His wife." Blue eyes bounce back and forth between the women, expression sour for having to explain. Swords and shields beat like drums rippling through the air, the sand tinkling clear against polished metal with bell like clarity. « Yes Sir! » (To Ilicaeth from Knioth) Well then...that answer from the woman definitely has Alida's eyes widening some before she can slam a mask of cool indifference back upon her fair features. Even Ilicaeth is drawing his head back and up, away from menacing the woman...his multicolored gaze first going a little yellow in surprise, and then swirling over to bright blue when he sets up a low and rolling warble that might sound a bit like laughter. A long look is given over to Ghena - full of darkest humor and something more subtle - before the blonde simply shakes her head twice and purses her lips just a little in thought. Nope, not gonna touch this one with a forty foot pole. Heated desert sands bounce and swirl about, bright with flecks of mica, at this point...counterpart to Ilicaeth's baritone rolls of laughter. « Yer Ghena's that snotty bitch's sister-in-law! Hahahahaha! » He clearly plucks the adjective for Aseana from his rider's mind. (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) Ghena's grin filled with malicious glee at the revelation. The smile is shared with Alida, and then rounded upon the increasingly nervous woman. "I don't suppose you have proof of this? I doubt any respectable search rider would have allowed such a candidate on the sands." That smile shows every bit of her teeth, like a damned Cheshire cat. Discordant strikes of metal on metal with the chink of chainmail, confusion and humor broiled into one. « I had thought the peasant neuter. Perhaps I was mistaken. » (To Ilicaeth from Knioth) Peasant? Oh...and image of the snotty sister-in-law in question is substituted by the elder blue. « No wonder G'laer's such a... » He searches for the proper word, and, when not finding it, substitutes another image of the greenrider/guard making spastic motions and faces. Spaz... emotional spaz. Whuffle chuff laugh! « He could like males, too. » G'laer. (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) Well, clearly Alida's not being of help since she's gone silent, so Aseana's eyes focus on Ghena even as she shifts another step away from the big blue. "Well, I didn't bring the twins, if that's what you mean. But beyond the fact that they have his eyes and hair, I'm not sure what kind of proof you'd expect me to tender." Sure, they keep records of handfastings; but they're localized, not in some grand system, much like proof of paternity on Pern comes down to who did the deed when and if the kid looks like or is named after a person. Aseana sounds annoyed, "Next you'll be asking me to prove that my name is really Aseana or that I'm really looking for a man named Gallagher." She rolls her eyes contemptuously. "I don't really see as it's any of your business anyway. The relevant facts are that I need to find him, and you know where he is and aren't telling me." Apparently she's convinced and she includes Alida in the hard look she's giving Ghena. "You asked me who I was and what my business was with him; I've told you. Now, where is he?" She punctuates each word of the question as isolated, her crossed arms tightening. The warrior/guard in Ilicaeth scoots to the fore when Aseana cuts in with demands for G'laer's presence, and he laughingly informs Knioth, « Fine...she's played her part. Ask her what color G'laer's eyes, hair are. Ask the names uv his sire 'n dam fer more proof, too. » (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) Ghena's evil grins are met with only laughing eyes by the more experienced Alida, but her lips do give a twitch at one point. For Aseana, however, comes a curt and guardlike, "So ya say. I want proof. Don't need another...stranger prowlin' about inside a Weyr." Ghena's eyes narrow, and her whole demeanor changes in a whiplash instant. "Leave. Now." Her life mate begins to growl, rumbling low and deep reverberating through his chest his eyes whirring between yellow and red. To the initiated, he's clearly inching behind his life mate to support her, to anyone else it is probably hostile in appearance. "You don't know the first thing about the guy, and you're here to beg for marks like so many of your kind do when they find themselves in a family way. You couldn't tell me what his parent's names were, the names of his siblings, the color of his eyes and hair. Why I'll even go so far as to wager that you couldn't tell me what his childhood nickname was." Bristling. She's furious. G'laer was an ass sure, even secretive to a point, but to keep such a huge part of his life from the rest of his family. Or maybe he was keeping them from her. "Leave. If you need marks to feed your spawn, I'll send a word to the women in charge of the nursery but don't you dare come back here spitting lies about my -" She cuts off realizing that she almost gave the woman a vital clue. Eyes dart to Alida, as though the blue rider can make the woman disappear. With the smooth ease of experience comes that dusty, dry baritone inserting itself into the younger blue's mind: « Keep self-control uv yerself and yer lifemate. Losing tempers here only makes us vulnerable. » As a fellow 'soldier,' Knioth should instantly understand how unpalatable being vulnerable is. (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) The thundering rumble of soldier's feet becomes distinct as each tempo arranges in ordered measure. The sound more like a march than stampede across the battlefield. « Yes Sir. » Visibly a dragon claw moves to block Ghena should she charge. « At least mine I do not have to sit on to get her to listen. » The image of Teisyth sitting on G'laer after a row between siblings is included for comedic effect. (To Ilicaeth from Knioth) « Very good... » Ilicaeth rumbles approvingly to the younger blue - commander to footsoldier... then sharing another image with Knioth: that of himself closing his coppery claws, digits possessively and carefully around Alida while his rider pounds at them to try and escape so she can inflict bodily damage upon someone who's managed to anger her beyond her boundaries. (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) Silver flashes and the curious rattle of mail, as the tempo of the pounding feet continues in practiced order. « Do we have to do this often? » Preventing riders from inflicting damage he means. (To Ilicaeth from Knioth) A little world-weary, darkly experienced again comes Ilicaeth's baritone. « Depends on how angry an' how often she gets that way. If it gets out uv hand, ya try 'n help them control it...'r burn it off. » (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) Alida is the target of the eyeroll. She's just been over that there is simply a lack of proof-worthy systems in place on Pern, and yet the blonde wants some. But the gesture doesn't come full circle, because she's interrupted to look taken aback at Ghena's first two words and the growl of the blue. She takes a step back but when the other words start flowing, she draws herself up, probably inwardly clinging to her composure with everything she's got, but outwardly looking still nervous but otherwise relatively calm. "For Faranth's sake, girl." She swears, "His parents names are Gallania and B'gherio. Why they gave up a good life in Crom to come here I'll never understand," But she doesn't care to try, either," He has too many sisters, but I've only met the one, so 'scuse me for not being able to keep their names straight. He has blue eyes and brown hair, just like our children, and if you mean that silly thing his baby sisters used to call him, it's Grr." Rat-tat-tat, rapid fire answers for the weyrling. "And I'm not leaving until I've spoken to my husband." But a beat later, her tone, while still thoroughly vexed, becomes edged with relief, "There you are." She's looking beyond the women now, behind them, to where silent as a shadow, G'laer has appeared from the barracks and approached, his face an impregnable mask of emotionlessness. When exactly did he arrive? Well, within the last few moments to be sure, but it's hard to say for certain otherwise, perhaps because the conversation had grown so intense, or maybe because G'laer's that stealthy. "What are you doing here?" His tone is terse, but not entirely flat as he addresses the holder woman, not looking to either Ghena or Alida immediately. To Ilicaeth, Knioth projects « Permission to go drop mine in a lake? Those are all correct answers. » More dark humor swirls and bubbles up like a fetid oasis within Ilicaeth's desert at Knioth's hopefully facetious inquiry. « S'up ta you, soldier... but I wouldn' wanna be you after she swims back ta land. » (To Knioth from Ilicaeth) To Alida: Obviously, someone Aseana approached before getting to the pair of blueriders decided to clue G'laer in to the crazy holder woman looking for him in the bowl. He's alone when he slips out of the barracks just as Aseana starts her rapid-fire answer delivery to the former guard's sister. His stride is swift but silent. There's more than a fair degree of training and natural skill in the way he makes his approach so seamlessly unobtrusive. Were it not for Alida's own training, he might have been invisible approaching from where her back faced, but it takes one to know one. The ordered march picks up fife and drum, efforts forced to keep ordered tempo even as Knioth feels the lash of his own rider's thoughts. « I would not want to be me after it either, so let's hope it's not necessary. » (To Ilicaeth from Knioth) Well...that cuts it, at least to Alida's mind. When all of those details about G'laer become evident, the blonde simply shrugs, nods...and internally smirks at that funny little nickname she'd not know about, before. But even as things become more intense between the trio of females, the woman/guard/bluerider can't help but notice a certain motion from the corner of her eyes, then turning her green gaze upon such...in the person of one swiftly and almost-martially approaching G'laer. She remains still, though - just as likely bourne out of habit as the greenie's own moves are - 'lida lets her body fall into a subtly readied stance. You know: just in case either he or Aseana - or both - try to start beating the shell out of each other. As for Ghena? She looks at her brother, fury and something that might be considered hurt. Leaning against Knioth's protective limb, she is unnaturally silent. Though daggers are shot, clearly if one were to beat the tar out of the other she'd rather enjoy it. To Teisyth, Knioth projects « You may be needed to sit on G'laer again. » "The marks." Aseana answers pointedly. "What about them?" G'laer's words snap back just as quickly. There is unarguably something dangerous in the set of his shoulders and the look on his face, so Aseana stammers a moment before composing herself enough to draw on her own frustration, "It's not enough." So her story is changing, from payments stopped to not enough. G'laer's lips turn down in a frown. "The salary here is different." Obviously, he must have been making more as a guard. "Then your savings," is her demand. G'laer's fingers twitch and he takes a step forward, though it doesn't seem overly aggressive. "Let's talk about this somewhere private." Instead of, you know, right here, in front of his work colleagues and, oh, his sister. He gives both Alida and Ghena the briefest of glances before returning his decidedly unthrilled look back onto Aseana. Dragons are marvelously helpful creatures. At least, when they're conscious. The mind Knioth reaches is that of a slumbering Teisyth, surface thoughts are bright colors and nonsensical doodles. In her peaceful dreaming, eggs have wings and Lythronath is painting Olveraeth with a herdbeast leg, only the blood is green, and doesn't Olveraeth look pretty when he's pretending to be green? (To Knioth from Teisyth) To nearby dragons, Knioth projects « I really have to wonder about that green of his. » "Yer a liar...at least partially..." Alida cuts in when Aseana speaks that key sentence: 'not enough.' "Heard 'n witnessed. You said his payments stopped totally." The look of sudden contempt and latent ire upon the bluerider's features is all for Aseana. The next eyeful she gives is for G'laer, but there's not much accusation in it...more partial understanding. And even before he can suggest to his wife that they take their conversation somewhere else, she is pivoting about on a boot heel and departing towards the living caver - offering a lift of hand to Ghena, as well - while Ilicaeth rumbles a gritty goodbye to Knioth...and saunters off towards the lake. Who knows; maybe he's going to wait and see if the weyrling blue dunks his lifemate. At 'not enough' the blue riding weyrling starts to lose it again, ready to round on the intruder. Knioth sets his teeth into the back of her jacket, effectively lifting her off her feet and starts trotting to the lake. Cooler heads prevail. It's time for all to exit because with both blueriders heading off (some more willingly than others) in opposite directions, G'laer is stepping forward to firmly take Aseana by the arm and steer her away from the barracks, away from the weyrlings, away from everything and to some privacy. Hopefully Aseana will survive the encounter, though if she's shown anything, it's that she seems to be able to hold her own, even when the odds are five against one and two of those are dragons. |
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