Logs:Gut-Spilling
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 3 February, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Vienne |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del and Vienne meet. He spills his gut. She listens. |
| Where: Diving Cliff / K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 12, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind, rain, and snow combine to make for miserable, sleety weather today. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
  |
| Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr Thrusting out from the shadow of the mountain, this long and narrow clifftop might once have been a ledge, but a pile of bramble-strewn, graffiti-chiseled boulders where a weyr's mouth would have been suggests a reason for its abandonment long ago. Though its views of the eastern bowl are grand, particularly the lake itself and the yawning air entrance to the hatching sands, its location makes the diving cliff unique: jutting some ten or twelve feet above the deepest part of the cool, clear lake. Especially in summertime, many climb up the narrow stairs to seek the thrill of a swift fall into the water, but those who just want to enjoy the view can take those same stairs back down: carved directly into the bowl wall, worn and crumbling and slick from use, but enough for the careful to get the job done. The wind and sleet don't make this a welcoming day to spend outside, but welcoming days are few and far between as winter wraps its fingers around High Reaches and sometimes there's just no other option but to brave the cold weather. With the sky an overcast gray and darkening as dusk settles beyond the peaks, one small blue and one smaller rider have tucked themselves into a crag on the diving cliff. With the ledge too damp and slick to sit, Vienne leans against Oswinth's side, bundled up as much as possible, just a face sticking out of a mass of wool, skinny legs sticking out of furry boots. The pair of them appear just to be taking in the view and listening to the quiet music of icy rain clinking on stone. Exactly what has inspired K'del to climb up towards the diving cliff on a day like this is difficult to determine-- sheer madness, perhaps? He's dressed for it, at least, with proper studded boots, and enough outer layers that should be fall, surely he won't actually kill himself. Given the weather, it's probably not surprising that he's nearly on top of Vienne and Oswinth before he actually registers that they're there, and tops with an abrupt jump (but not one likely to send him off the cliff). "Oh-ho," he says. "Looks like I'm not the only crazy one about these parts. Hello." Given the weather, it's not too much of a surprise that Vienne doesn't really notice the scrape of boots scaling the path to the ledge. She might have been just as surprised as K'del were it not for Oswinth turning his head to view the stranger's approach, but she does have that much warning and she pushes from the lean against her lifemate to await the interloper. And when the blond man starts so visibly upon arrival, the wool-wrapped woman lets out a bright, quick laugh. "Oh, I totally did that my first time up here," she says, skipping the greeting. "I didn't realize someone was here already and it scared the crap out of me." The wrinkle of her nose is more for that memory of herself rather than K'del's reaction. "The weather's terrible," she agrees. "But listen." And with that, she's abruptly quiet, a hand held for silence and stillness as her eyes sweep around at the world, nothing but that tinkling sound of sleet and the slow exhale of foggy breath. "I--" begins K'del, getting that word out before he's properly registered Vienne's command, such that it is. It seems to surprise him, enough so that he breaks off from what he was saying, brows wrinkling in consternation that fades, as the seconds pass, into something more akin to wonderment. When he opens his mouth next, it's to let a long, white-tinted breath exhale; surely an indication of pleasure, much as his suddenly closed eyes are in their turn. One gloved hand reaches out blindly to steady himself against the cliff-face, but he is otherwise quite still for several seconds. And finally, "Reckon it's pretty easy to forget to just... stop and listen, sometimes." His voice is lower, now, and more personal, and when his eyes flick back open, they show definite pleasure. There is a bit of light in her eyes, watching him pause and recognize that thing that is all around him but so easily overlooked, like she's just observed some little bit of magic. But as K'del steadies himself on the wall with his eyes closed and he acquaints himself with the moment, Vienne has time to process his face, and with it all the weight of the things she has no doubt heard and read. As such, when he looks at her again, she has her lip pinched in her teeth, still smiling just... She knows who he is. It makes her grin just a little shy. Behind her, Oswinth lets out a quiet warble, which seems to remind her, finally, to say, "Hi." It doesn't take long, after he's opened his eyes again, for K'del's gaze to register that knowledge in Vienne's expression; it's enough to make him smile just a little ruefully. "Looks like you've got me at a disadvantage," he says, having blown out a long breath and pushed his shoulders into a more relaxed position all over again. It's almost possible to see the little reminder that is no doubt going through his head: just another bronzerider, just another bronzerider, just another bronzerider. "The pair of you. Except that I can guess you must be the last of the new transfers I keep hearing about. Igen, was it?" There's something self-conscious in the way he digs his free hand into his pocket, and ineffectively attempts to blow a loose, damp curl away from his forehead. "Sorry," Vienne says quickly, an apology that seems to encompass more than just the absense of her name; her lips disappear entirely as she closes them tightly. Whether that helps or hinder in K'del's attempt to believe he's just another bronzerider, well, that's up to him. But her smile slips out again and she nods. "Igen, yes. Not the tall man from Ista or the redhead from Benden," the other transfers who are probably easier to pick out of a crowd. "Though that kind of makes me wonder what my... descriptor is," she admits with a light laugh, even as she shivers faintly. "I'm Vienne. This is Oswinth." She twists in place to turn to her dragon, to let the undersized blue drop his head a little bit, like some dragon version of a bow. He probably doesn't mean it to be so formal, given the way Vienne has to corral the smirk that starts to form at Oswinth's expense. K'del's offering of, "The cute dark-haired girl from Igen, according to some," is not really flirtatious: just a recitation of information allegedly gleaned from some other source. "Guess it surprised a lot of people, having so many at once. Never happened when I-- well. It's nice to meet you, Vienne. And Oswinth. Hi. Is it too late to welcome you to High Reaches? Probably. It's been a while, hasn't it?" His gaze slides up towards the blue, his smile apparently as genuine for him as it is for Vienne, though it's to the latter that he lets it return a moment later. "Anyway, it's fine. No need to apologise for anything. Things are what they are." She dips her chin, flattered even if the description isn't really coming from K'del himself. "It surprised me too," Vienne admits. "I wasn't sure if it was, I don't know, some kind of concerted effort on Reaches' part, but..." She shakes her head, almost as if she feels the need to reassure him this wasn't the case. Anyway, she rubs her mittened hands together, shoulders hunching against the icy air. "It's been a while, yeah. But I still feel... new." She lapses into a brief silence and Oswinth tips his nose to exhale warm air at the back of her head, making her hair flutter where it curls out from under the confines of her hat. "I'm starting to look the part at least, right?" Her hands come up, a little display of her overly-bundled-ness, which might, in fact, be a good bit more than a native would need. She lets out another laugh, at herself, but her teeth catch her lip again. "You're getting there. Do you skate? We should get you out on the ice to really complete the look," offers K'del. He draws his hand away from the cliff-face, finally, tucking it into his other pocket, but not before scraping some of his hair away from his forehead, this time more successfully. "No idea, if it was intentional. Doubt it. Can't imagine our goldriders deliberately encouraging outsiders, not when things were," his expression turns rueful and unhappy; it's obvious that he's thinking are, even if he doesn't correct himself audibly, "so uncertain. Especially not when one of you was a bronzerider. Imagine... the uncertainty isn't helping with the feeling new feeling. Kind of a shitty time to end up here, really." He looks, suddenly, as though he's just thought of something, his gaze narrowing in on Vienne thoughtfully. "Does... that mean you didn't choose to come here?" "I haven't tried it," the skating. "It sounds... painful?" She flashes him a quick, grinning, wince, trepidatious about the activity without necessarily ruling it out. But as conversation turns to the goldrider and what they would or wouldn't do, she grow a little more reserved. "It is an interesting time to arrive," she admits, that quiet smile pulling wryly toward one side. "Maybe not all bad, though. I think it's a lot harder for people who are worried about their home. I'm already... unsettled." Her eyes flick about, searching the air for some hint that any of what she's just said might have made sense. "Is it better or worse if it was my choice?" she asks, the hitch of her smile teasing a bit. K'del's grin is briefly boyish as he says, "It's not painful, not unless you fall. We'll have to teach you-- it's the proper thing to do." He can say that, and sound cheerful and content throughout it, but his expression changes pretty abruptly as he moves on, his gaze turning to glance over the lake and the Weyr beyond for several seconds before he allows, "That's probably true. We're-- not at our best, at the moment. Things'll settle down eventually, no doubt." It's hard to tell what he thinks, really, when his expression is a pale, unfeeling mask, as it is now. Not teasing, despite her demeanor, is his added, "Neither better nor worse. Just... interesting. Different." "As long as we can tie a pillow to my butt," Vienne puts in, unable to quite resist smiling back at his boyish grin. But when he turns his attention toward the view, she inches forward, a few steps closer to the edge, to look down over the lip of stone to that lake growing pale with ice below them. It gives him that time to let his expression go numb, unobserved while she pretends to consider the possibility of skating. "I chose. I wanted something different. High Reaches... is different." She doesn't yet glance to him, though, and the downward cast of her attention makes her own words sound a little more private. "When was your best?" There are a few beats, enough time to take a quick stroll back down the timeline, before she does lift her eyes to K'del, sympathy there whether he wants it or not. She's quick to look down again. K'del glances sidelong in Vienne's direction, evidently intending to study her expression without being too obvious about it (though he's not all that subtle, either). His breath escapes, white and cloudy, into something akin to a sigh. "It ought to be easier to answer that question," he admits. "It's hard to remember when the good times were. If they ever existed. Was it like that at Igen? Well - guess you haven't had massive leadership changes, which is a start. You. Them. You know what I mean." Well, if he's going to study her, she's just going to have look back at him again, her expression uncertain as he sighs. "Igen has it's own problems," she says with a little shake of her head. But now it's her turn to consider him and she straightens up again, her eyes skimming across his brow, his shoulders. "I don't think anywhere has quite had leadership changes like this one," she offers with a faint, apologetic kind of smile. "But change isn't always bad. Sometimes it just looks like it when its in the midst of happening." It might reveal something of her feeling on the subject, but to say something like that, she has to make a face, has to wrinkle her nose at how it all sounds like empty platitudes. Vienne rouses herself from the cliff's edge, to retreat back against the craggy hollows and Oswinth's side, out of the wind and some of the sleet. "It must be hard, though, to watch." Especially if someone isn't used to the sidelines. The sudden pink in his cheeks must have something to do with the wind and cold, but there's definitely an element of embarrassment to it, too, and a measure of quiet ruefulness. He lets out a low bark of a laugh, or something that might be a bark if it were louder; evidently, he finds her platitudes pretty empty, and is not afraid to indicate as much. "It is hard," he agrees. "And-- look. They can pick anyone they like to be Acting Weyrleader. It's their right. But Taikrin is not the person any sane leader would pick. I-- fuck, sorry. Shouldn't be throwing this stuff on you. Not like you don't know my position, if you've heard anyone talking. No need to go over it again and again." "I know. It sounds stupid," Vienne says with her own pained little laugh, another quick shake of her head. "It's just... It doesn't feel done." But that's as far as she'll explain her nebulous attempt at comforting words. Besides, that's all there's time for before his own words start coming quickly. She shivers as she listens, the cold still seeping in despite her protected nook against the wall. "No," she says, readily brushing away his apology. "Tell me. Most people haven't really... said anything. And it's different hearing it from you." She takes a slow breath, like she's readying herself, or maybe she's just trying to calm those icy little tremors. With the sky growing darker, the sleet is definitely starting to turn to snow. "I want to know what you think." K'del takes a deep breath, holds it for several long seconds, and then exhales. "I think having Taikrin in a position of authority like this is one of the stupidest things anyone could do, and not just because I don't care for her, and because I'd wanted the position for myself. She's-- the last person you'd want representing High Reaches. Running anything. But I'm the bad guy, because I'm trying to keep things from falling apart. It's not that I have a problem with her being a woman, or that I'm so bitter and screwed up and angry about not getting the knot back. Care too much about this Weyr, that's all, and two inexperienced goldriders, an ex-con self-obsessed-- H'kon's not so bad, but he's not a leader." Having let all of that out, he just... sighs. It's a good thing he takes that deep breath, considering everything that comes after it. Vienne is still as she listen, her features calm, her arms wrapping around herself to still keep the warmth in. But it's somewhere around the bit about him being the bad guy that she steps foward, and maybe it's presumptuous of her, but she reaches out to put a hand on his arm, like she can keep him from... something. From getting too upset, too close to the edge? From letting his feeling runaway with him? "I have no reason to think you're the bad guy," she tells him. It might not be entirely true, because surely there have been rumors, but her expression, her words, are guileless, here in the present. Though, well, she does smile a little bit when he admits H'kon isn't so terrible. Her mitten falls from his arm easily. "I don't doubt that your issues with Taikrin have nothing to do with her being a woman," she assures. "But what do you want to see happen?" That hand on his arm does seem to do something: enough that he lets out a lower, more controlled breath, and manages a tight, controlled smile as he turns his gaze back on Vienne. "I want to see some leadership," he says, which is probably a little unfair, but nonetheless something he seems to feel quite deeply. "Acknowledgement that the whole thing got screwed up, but they've got a nice, solid, non-divisive Acting Weyrleader, and that with him in place they can run this place as a team until one of them rises again, in a few Turns, and sorts things out properly." That's when he laughs. "It's not so much, really, surely? It's not like I'm asking them to appoint me." The little bluerider dips her chin, meeting his gaze as if she does understand that want for leadership, whether it's unfair or not. "A nice, solid, non-divisive Acting Weyrleader," she repeats, mulling those words, letting a slow breath fill her chest and leave in a little cloud. "Why do you think they haven't? Haven't said the whole thing is screwed up. Haven't appointed someone." Someone. Vienne might smile a bit when he laughs, but there's a knowing look in her eye that doesn't entirely believe he isn't the someone he has in mind. "Pride," is K'del's immediate answer, and really, he might as well be saying 'because they're absolutely determined to fuck things up for everyone', given that quiet note of bitterness. "Or-- stubbornness, maybe. 'They are too the Weyrleader', that kind of thing. I don't know, because Brieli hates me, and Azaylia thinks I hate her, now." He exhales again, showing frustration in every stilted movement of his stiff upper body. "But it all just makes me look bitter, doesn't it? Like I can't let go. So there you have it, Vienne. High Reaches' former Weyrleader, the one who can't let go. The one who-- anyway." Beat. "I should go inside. It's cold." Pride. Stubbornness. "Fear?" It's probably not what K'del really wants to hear, or potentially not something he'll hear at all, given that its source is this little shivering stranger who would readily admit she knows almost nothing about the pieces on the chess board. But as he continues, as he stands there rigid and impotent, Vienne's eyes start to search him, questions cropping up as her brow furrows and her mouth tightens, some instinct to sooth waiting in the way her hands hover together in front of her. There are too many questions for her to pick one, so instead she says, "I think you are bitter. And I do think you're having trouble letting go. But... I don't think that devalues your opinion. I don't think that it makes you unreasonable." But her questions are still lingering, and so even though she's the one who is repeatedly shuddering, and even though he's said he should go inside, Vienne just stands there, unprepared to shelve her curiosity. Despite his words, K'del has yet to make any move to actually leave, and Vienne's latest statement has him hesitating all over again, his brow knitting beneath the rim of his knitted cap, his hands straining within the enclosures of their pockets. He looks at her, chewing on the skin of his chapped lower lip with his front teeth, clearly deliberating over words and words and-- "Maybe," he says, at length, which could be an answer to a lot of things. "It's hard to let go," he admits. "Thought I was doing ok, when I stepped down; guess I just had other things on my mind." Dead girlfriends and all. "Because now... it's hard to look at things, and not be in the middle of them. My hands just itch to-- and Taikrin." It's personal. It's deeply personal. Another shiver claims Vienne, enough to make her jaw tremble and her teeth chatter. She might try to ignore it, but Oswinth behind her has a rumble of remonstrance, or perhaps his own desire to get out of the wind. Vienne frowns a little, though her attention doesn't stray from the bronzerider in front of her. "Do you...." Again, it might be forward, but he does seem to have a lot to say, so after a pause she continues, "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" Somewhere there aren't snowflakes in the air. Not that they haven't been talking already. Even if K'del could ignore Vienne's shivers (and, for the record, he can't), there's no way he'd be able to do the same with Oswinth's rumble. The combination of the two are enough to turn his expression apologetic and pained, never mind that he was indicating his intention to leave not so very long ago. "You really want to listen to me, huh?" he says, not surprised, but certainly giving an indication of amusement despite the concern (and cold). "One way or another, we should definitely go inside before we freeze, and they find us dead in the morning. If--" He hesitates. "If you really want to keep talking, then, sure. Okay. But don't feel obligated or anything." She starts to chuckle, her smile wide and easy and chasing away any need for his apologies. "I don't mind," she promises. "It's interesting. And I want to know. I want to know where I live now. I want to understand." So see, he's doing her a favor, really. "Plus," her smile turns a little impish there. "You seem to... Need To Talk." And those three words, growled for show, are punctuated by her hands held up in wooly fists, rallying against invisible chains, not too terrible an impression of his recent body language, even if it's exaggerated a bit. Vienne laughs again, probably at her own teasing, and starts toward Oswinth. "You can ride with us," she tells him, ready to climb on if he is. "Where should we..." Go. The word she's looking for is 'go'. K'del's huff of breath is like a laugh - like the mutant step-son of a laugh, maybe, not quite able to stand on its own two feet, but still there. "Guess that's the first thing you should know about me," he says. "Seems like I like the sound of my own voice. Lost in my own issues." He steps forward, closer, evidently pleased to accept the offer of a lift; wherever Cadejoth is, it's nowhere in sight of here. "There's whisky, and-- klah, probably, at my place. If you like. Or... yours. Or somewhere public, but seems like that would be less conducive to--" Talking. It's probably a little hard to see a calm, controlled Weyrleader in this incarnation of the former Weyrleader. "And here I thought it was my extrodinary talents as a listener that made you feel like you could pour your soul out," Vienne quips back as she settles onto Oswinth's neck. The blue doesn't seem to mind an extra passenger, though he does take a few long moments to get him self limbered up and ready to fly. "Your place, I think," his rider decides after a moment's deliberation. "Oh, and I should warn you, hang on a bit." It's a nice way, without actually disparaging her lifemate, of preparing him for the fact that Oswinth is not the smoothest ride around. K'del will have to point out where they're headed, but after a jolting landing, they all arrive safely on Cadejoth's ledge, with Vienne so cold that now her teeth hardly stop vibrating together. "After you," she stutters out with a smile. "That, too," promises K'del, with a dimpled smile. It's obvious that he's unused to riding - and climbing aboard - dragons other than Cadejoth, and that Oswinth is considerably smaller than him. That said, "Cadejoth's not so smooth, either. It's fine." And it is - he doesn't seem bothered by the ride, aside from seeming a little weirded out by the differences between the blue and his bronze. Cadejoth's ledge is midway up the bowl, presently empty aside from the snow piling steadily upon it. Inside, past Cadejoth's couch and a heavy curtain, it's relatively warm, and K'del's quick to offer: "Blanket? Let me stoke up the hearth." If the bronze is away, then Oswinth will avail himself of a little shelter, not settling into the oversized couch exactly, but near enough that he's not sitting in the snow. And once inside, Vienne sniffles deeply, still quaking despite the layers of wool. She tries to let her glance skim around the living space, mild and smooth, except that when he offers her a blanket, her frantic nod rather negates all of that nonchalance. Hugging her arms to her chest as she moves toward the fire, even if it's not presently roaring, she takes a long breath and tries to will the shivers to abate. "I may have stayed out too long," she admits sheepishly. The most defining feature of K'del's weyr are all the little glass 'moons' set into the stone walls, through which the green-ish light of the glows shine through. There are a couple of chairs and a couch near the hearth, and it's there that K'del indicates she should sit, while he heads around a corner and down a passage to fetch a down-filled quilt to offer her. "Reckon it's easy enough to do," he says, understandingly. "Eventually, you get numb enough that you forget. A bit. Klah?" She takes the seat, nestling herself in the corner of the couch, slipping her boots off so that she can pull her skinny legs up beneath her. That's how K'del will find Vienne when he returns with the blanket, still in her jacket, huddled on his couch, waiting for the shivers to stop. "I like your walls," she chitters out, the rattle of her teeth calming down now that she's not in the night air any longer. Still, the freezing does mar the gratitude in her expression when she takes the quilt and pulls it right up to her chin. "Please," she says to the klah, and then, "So how long do you think it will go on like this?" She might be talking about the cold but probably not. Having relinquished the quilt, K'del nods once, then crosses the several steps to the hearth, to set up the klah pot, and to stoke up the flames. He stays where he is, even once he's done both of those things, pulling off his sodden wool hat and gloves, and turning, damp, back to face Vienne. "Like 'em too," he says, with a glance around the stone cavern. "Guess that's one good thing about not winning: keeping this place. It--" It's a smooth change between subjects, one to the next. "Going to keep on like this until something decisive happens. Is it bad, that I'm waiting for Taikrin to do something outlandish, to prove my point? So we can fix things?" Her own glance is tugged after his, toward the shining moons and she ducks her chin beneath the blanket, balled fists keeping it tight to her. "I don't think it's bad. Perhaps not... generous." Her eyes return to the damp man at the hearth; with the quilt, eyes are just about all that's left of her. "You don't think there's any way she'll surprise you? You know, in some manner other than royally fucking up?" It might be just a tad jarring: the dainty young woman, slinging that phrase out like it's utterly natural. "Some people seem to think she's serious about the job." She leaves herself out of the equation. "Do you think she'd try to do well?" K'del's wince has less to do with the phraseology Vienne employs, probably, and more to do with the implication of it. He draws his knees up, resting both forearms along them, and sighs. "Not sure she knows how to. She... granted, I'm probably biased against her, but I just don't think she has any real sense of responsibility. Soon as it becomes a toss up between business and pleasure, she'll go pleasure. She has... no experience. 'Least when I became Weyrleader, I picked a mentor, and let him train me. Admitted what I didn't know." "I only met her once but..." Vienne's eyesbrow arch as the quilt comes down by a few inches, revealing the wry quirk of her mouth. She doesn't finish the thought. "I think it's an unusual situation. When a bronze wins a senior flight, his rider is Weyrleader. When a brown wins a junior, his rider... is not. When someone is chosen to be Acting, it's not based on how well his dragon chases. Whoever he's caught, it never factors in." Obviously, she knows that K'del is well aware of how it all works, but still, the bluerider seems to put some new emphasis on this rote information. "If either one of them comes out and says that her winner isn't Weyrleader, that means she's not the senior. It must be a hard decision to make." And as the blanket is tucked under her arms, Vienne can finally pull those enormous mittens off. "Enough said," is K'del's conclusion to the Taikrin issue, made almost lazily, as he considers the rest of what Vienne has to say, his occasional nod his only comment throughout the entirety of it. "Hard to be a Brownrider," he allows, relatively neutral, as his gaze slides back towards the klah pot. "Don't deny it. But-- yes. Yes, exactly. They can't back down. They can't fire H'kon, which is obviously what they'd otherwise like to do, because he's not interested in upholding their plan. But-- if they just accepted that neither flight counted, that they were both still Acting, everything would be simpler." "I would imagine..." Vienne begins slowly, her attention dropping to the quilt itself, those little fingers tracing along some of the stitching, smoothing it down over the awkward bumps that her jacket creates. "That neither of them wants to fire H'kon. Or Taikrin. An attack on the other's winner would look like a bid. And if they start down that path..." Her mouth twists to one side. "That seems like it could be a particularly ugly scenario for everyone." Her eyes flick back to K'del then, or maybe to the progress he's making with the klah. "Now I'm imagining a the two of them saying 'One, two, three, not it'." And that thought does make her smile. Although he's glancing back at the klah, fussing now with pouring it into mugs, K'del's nods are obvious, and spread throughout what Vienne has to offer, culminating in a grin that probably goes largely unseen for that last. "Right," he agrees. "It's-- don't think for a moment I don't feel for them. The whole thing is a mess, and I'm half glad I'm not in the middle of it. Except that... if I were, it'd be more obvious, wouldn't it? People'd know who to follow, if there were a bronze." He turns, offering one of the mugs across, now. "H'kon would've withdrawn himself, stepped away, if it weren't for Taikrin." That is quiet: a reflective, thoughtful admission. "Is Taikrin really the only problem?" Seeing that K'del has reached the stage of pouring, Vienne readies herself to receive one of those mugs, sitting up a little bit more, pulling off her hat and unbuttoning her coat. She's still a pile of wool and quilt, still drawn up into a ball, but there's at least a little bit more space around her now, though it really just highlights how slight she is beneath her warm layers. "If the winners had been two other brownriders, would the situation really be any more simple?" The bluerider seems to doubt that. "You mentioned leadership... Is Taikrin..." She doesn't really want to say it, since implying Taikrin is the leader might be unflattering to the other parties, not to mention K'del's likely reaction to the idea. There's a moment in Vienne's reply where K'del's hand shakes, very nearly slopping klah over the rug, the floor, and perhaps even himself. He stills it, recovers himself, and finally hands one of the mugs over. Having done so, he hoists himself up and settles into one of the other seats, face pink from the close proximity of the hearth. "No," he admits - allows - with a low huff of breath. "The situation is screwed up whichever way you look at it. Taikrin exacerbates it, but she's not the only cause. Imagine she sees herself as a loyal soldier, working for the goldriders." He doesn't seem to want to make that admission, either. "That makes it all even more screwed up, in some ways. Like the goldriders are controlling everything, when it's supposed to be a partnership between the Weyrwoman and the Weyrleader." Her lips press together when K'del's hand shakes, and maybe there's a residual hint of worry in her face when she smiles at him for the klah, murmuring her thanks. She doesn't sip it right away, but goes about the usual behavior of cradling the mug for warmth. "It might seem more... 'not the way it's supposed to be' for you," she muses. "I think most people are just a little more used to the idea that someone else makes the decisions. Someone you didn't choose, decisions you have no say in... Not that I get the sense everyone is happy with the way things are," she feels the need to add, a widening of her eyes to emphasis the point. "But really, the crux of the problem seems to be that there are decisions that have to be made. Decisions that are normally made by dragons. I'm not entirely surprised that no one is really leaping in to take responsibility for those choices. Especially given that lack of leadership." There might not be any bright ideas on her lips, but Vienne's expression is thoughtful, mulling these facts around. "And you would choose yourself. To be Acting, to step in and hold things together until a proper flight can right the confusion. Have you actually... offered that? Or are you waiting to see if they'll ask." A brow lifts dubiously at him, since it sounds like he botched up that likelihood somewhere along the way. K'del is self-aware enough to look wry and a little uncomfortable, in the face of Vienne's remarks. "Maybe," he agrees, carefully, in a way that suggests he's encompassing most of what she's said into that single, not-quite-agreement. But then: "No. Never expected they'd offer it to me. Brieli doesn't like me, never has. And I know-- stepping down after Iolene," he swallows, "died made sure it wouldn't be offered to me. It makes sense. It's fine. So no, I didn't offer it, and I wouldn't. Not stupid enough to let them throw it in my face; they do that even without my invitation." He swallows again, evidently trying to bite back the bitterness that is steadily rising to the surface again. "Guess, mostly, it'd just be nice if they'd acknowledge I have some experience, some skills, that could be helpful. Relationships with the Holds. Things like that." "Why would that make sense?" she rather interjects, though not ungently. K'del's discomfort does leave its mark on Vienne, keeping her gaze from resting steadily on him and leaving her instead to glance his way intermittently while mostly staring down into her mug. It's just as well, since there's just so much information to process, so many little puzzle pieces trying to lock together. But not all of them do. "Is there any reason," she begins quietly, and not without hesitation. "For them not to accept your help? Any reason they'd be right in refusing you?" She seems almost sorry to ask such things, especially given the way K'del's irritation is growing again. K'del stares at his mug, focusing his attention there as much as possible: it's safer. His expression shows so much of his emotional state, though: the frustration, the irritation, the dismay. No poker face, here. Not now, anyway. "As far as some people are concerned, I walked away and abandoned the Weyr, when I stepped down. Put myself above the needs of the Weyr. B'sil was Acting Weyrleader for eight months; he'd be the obvious choice to keep on, during all of this." Only he retired completely. He sighs, lifting one hand from his mug to rub at his drying curls. "Brieli would never ask me for help. Ever. Azaylia might, but things got difficult with her, too. Taikrin-- never. Not saying I was a perfect Weyrleader. Not even close. But no, I don't see why it'd help them to refuse me. If they were being sensible. Makes me sound self-important." He's wry, but not repentant. "I'm sure you could look at it that way," Vienne will allow. She finally lifts her mug to take a nice long mouthful, now that it's steaming a little less. The warmth of it in her stomach releases a bit more of the chilled tension she's been holding in her shoulders, though perhaps not all of it. "Or you could say that you stepped down because you knew you weren't fit at that time. You could have kept it, you could have been awful at it, but instead, you chose to put the Weyr in hands you thought would be safer." She peeks over at him then, attempting some small smile, sympathetic and encouraging. At least he does look wry for a moment there, which makes it easier for her. "So why would they refuse, then? And why don't you offer if the worst that happens is they refuse? At least then you'd know you'd done what you could. Unless you have some other plan," for which she shrugs one shoulder, the comment offhandeded rather than actually expecting there to be a plan. That particular interpretation of his actions has K'del glancing up again, seeking out Vienne's face. His expression has softened, slightly, as though even just hearing his side of things expressed is enough to relax some of his agitation. "That's how I saw it," he confirms. "She saw it as running away." It may well be his own stubbornness that has him shaking his head so firmly. "I can'--" But he stops himself. "Maybe if I apologised to Azaylia. Made it clear that I had the Weyr's best interests at heart, and that I wanted to help." He doesn't sound sure of the idea; really, it sounds like he finds the idea deeply uncomfortable. "But Brieli just wanted to hurt me. Wants to." It doesn't seem like it's just a handy way to spin what happened; Vienne does look and sound like she can understand his side of the situation, like his decisions make sense to her, though of course she wasn't here and it's now months later. Or maybe she just doesn't like to see her host so deeply unhappy. When he makes his attempt to explore that uncomfortable possibility of offering his service, she chews her lip a little, corralling the smile that tries to tug at one corner. "You said they're proud, stubborn..." She doesn't finish the thought, but she does lift her eyebrows rather meaningfully. She's also quick to add, "I don't know what you should do. It just seems like maybe it's an option you hadn't really considered." Disclaimer made. As for Brieli, "Why?" K'del manages a crooked smile, evidently taking some kind of conclusion out of Vienne's lifted eyebrows and trailed-off thought. "And so am I. Sure. But I love this Weyr. If it's what I need to do--" He squares his shoulders, meaningfully. "You're right. It's not something I've considered, and maybe I should. Got to put the Weyr above my own pride. Be the bigger man." He sets down his mug, evidently less inclined to actually drink the klah than perhaps he intended to be; his hands fiddle with the fabric of his trousers, instead, smoothing out wrinkles. "I've no idea why Brieli hates me so much. It's only-- recently, that I really understood how deep it went. She and I will never be friends." Somehow, it seems like that thought makes him sad - as well as frustrated. Vienne lays a hand on the couch beside her, like she might lay it on him if he were in reach, and she quirks a wry smile for his crooked one. "There might be some other angle I don't know. It's just something to consider." It's part warning, part suggestion, and she leave it like that. But what little hope there was to be found in his squared shoulders seems to dissipate when his attention grows small and narrowed to those trouser wrinkles and the bluerider watches the movement of his hands. "Do you think you're capable of respecting each other, even if you aren't friends?" K'del might not have any further interest in his klah, but Vienne continues to drink, and eventually she's warmed enough that the quilt is tugged off her lap. "I was Tiriana's Weyrleader for-- what, ten turns? Nearly?" K'del exhales as he finishes that, evidently initially intending it to be a complete answer. He must change his mind a few seconds later, because he adds, "Always thought we were mostly okay, Brieli and I. Not friends, but fine. Now-- I wouldn't let Cadejoth chase Iesaryth. Ever. Guess that says a lot, right there." He lets out a low laugh, glancing up and across at Vienne. "How did I go from not knowing who you were to spilling my guts in the space of-- well, however long it's been? You're a good listener." It's anyone's guess just how much an outsider might know or understand about the Weyrwoman that K'del spent most of his career with, but Vienne does lift one of those eyebrows, perhaps in appreciation for what it means, or maybe, just maybe, questioning how successful that reference might be, considering the way things ended. She doesn't actually speak on the subject, though, nor on the prospect of his bronze chasing Iesaryth. But ah, for the last bit, the bluerider starts to smile, wide and shy and flattered. "I don't think it has anything to do with me. I think you just wanted to talk. And I think sometimes it's easier to say things to stranger. There aren't any preconceptions, any expectations, and you can be taken for who you are." She draws in a deep breath, though, a shrug as she ultimately shakes her head, not professing to be an expert on anything. There's a quick, low laugh and she wonders, "How do you feel now?" With his guts all spilled. It's hard to tell if K'del even notices that lifted eyebrow; he certainly doesn't seem to pause to consider how his reference might have been understood. Perhaps he's forgotten that Vienne is not from High Reaches, and less likely to understand the minutiae of his past. He manages to match her smile with one of his own, pleased, if now increasingly self-conscious. "Maybe you're right," he agrees. "Guess--" He rubs at his forehead. "Guess maybe I did need to talk. I feel-- better, I think. Thank you. You feeling less cold? Need anything else?" Vienne does notice the unease K'del is wearing and so she's quick to try to relieve any reasons he might have for feeling self-conscious. "It's okay," she insists, somewhat for his thank-you. "I'm glad I could help... if I did." The jury might still be out as far as she's concerned. But she does laugh, "And it's not like you said anything shocking, but it does help me understand a bit better... This place." Her glance swings upward, not to the ceiling exactly but the rock above it, the knowledge of weyrs like this one all around. As for her body temperature, she grins easily. "The klah helped. Though I probably should have taken my jacket off. I keep forgetting to do that." And now she sets her mug on the arm of the couch, balanced there. "I guess, I should probably leave you to your evening." "You did." K'del's firm on that much, enough so that he pulls himself out of his chair (managing, thankfully, to avoid turning over his still-full mug in the process), all the better to look authoritative in the process. "Hope it did help. High Reaches is your home, now. Guess it's only fair you understand how fucked up the place is. I-- Vienne. Thank you. Next time, I promise I'll be less self-pitying; better company. Need to teach you how to skate, after all, remember? You won't freeze, getting home?" His glance is aimed towards the exit, thoughtful, and with some measure of concern. "Really does mean a lot to me. The listening. Not-judging." Vienne scoots forward as K'del stands, to get her boots back on, to find her hat and gloves in the folds of the quilt and eventually get to her feet as well. She has to laugh for his description of his Weyr, her Weyr, and it looks like she might have some quip ready, but his promises for next time interrupt the thought and she stands there, pulling her accessories on. "Next time," she says, grinning, "I'd like for you to be whoever who are and trust that I'll still enjoy the company. But if you do want me to learn to skate, don't forget the pillow." For that, her smile turns downright cheeky. She starts toward the ledge, rolling her shoulders around in her jacket, buttoning back up. "I'll freeze," she guesses of the trip home. "But I'll thaw again. Don't you worry. It was nice to meet you, K'del." And her grin finds plenty of humor in the fact that she can say that, that despite all the discussion, this was the first time they've met. Her cheekiness makes K'del laugh, though there's still seriousness in his promise of, "Think I can manage that. Pillow and myself, both." He follows after her, towards the ledge, glancing out over the evening sky with quiet thoughtfulness. "Ok," he says. "Good. It was nice to meet you, too, Vienne. Next time I'll bore you silly with talk of my children, my family, and-- or maybe I'll just see what comes to mind. Seriously, though: welcome to High Reaches. And if there's anything I can do for you, just, you know, say the word." |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Gut-Spilling"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 05 Feb 2013 03:31:51 GMT.
I've been waiting for a log like this, where K'del can just say what's on his mind without being worked up into a froth. ;) It's even better because Vienne's so good with making suggestions. This was awesome, guys!
Leave A Comment