Logs:How To Punish a Weyrleader
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 16 December, 2014 |
| Who: Lilah, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin has some opinions on the Southern situation. |
| Where: Beach Lounge, Southern Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 7, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Elise/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Ali/Mentions, S'dellan/Mentions, Oriane/Mentions, M'kris/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Torani/Mentions |
| With both of the queens of this Southern Weyr being Eliyaveith's sister and niece respectively, one so close to her own age and raised with her, it is not surprising for anyone that knows her that she would want to visit. Or that her rider would come to give congratulations to the Weyrwoman that she used to work for, though it seems that the congratulations have already been given. The goldrider has settled not far from the rider's lounge, into the soft, warm sands of the beach with a glass of whiskey from that bar, far enough away from those Southerners that gather and socialize to be overlooked as she watches the ocean in peace. A tall, familiar man and a younger brunette walk slowly down the beach from further afield, not in any particular hurry. The woman's wearing a sarong and loose top, while the bronzerider's down to shorts and unbuttoned shirt, feet bare. They're heading for the lounge bar, but the brunette stops suddenly, pausing to lean in and murmur something to her taller companion, before she strides off towards the Weyr proper. R'hin pauses to watch her go, for a time, before he makes his way towards the bar, slowing and finally stopping so that his shadow casts shade over the contemplative visiting Fortian on the beach. If Lilah catches sight of the man and woman, she doesn't stare. There's barely a look in that direction, not until R'hin's darkness falls over her, and even then the goldrider is slow to lift a look up to him, shielding her eyes with her free hand despite his shadow. "R'hin," she murmurs. Her gaze slides past him, briefly, before returning. "You didn't go with her." So, she did see them. "And you," R'hin returns, pale eyes flickering over her drink, "Have something dull in hand. It makes you stand out," as what he doesn't specify, and yet the next moment he's off, towards the bar, without another word. Maybe he didn't hear her latter comment. He chats easily with the bartender, and their brief, shared laughter can be heard, along with a gesture from the bronzerider towards where Lilah is seated on the sand. Finally, he returns, holding two glasses in hand, one of which he holds out towards Lilah. It shades from a sunset red at the bottom, to a yellowy sunrise color, to an almost clear shade near the brim. Dark eyes follow him, Lilah's lips twisting into a soft, small smile that he never gets to see, with his attention on the bartender and it disappearing before he ever looks back. She finishes what is left in her glass before he returns, burying it into the sand by her feet to free her hands to accept the one he returns with. "Thank you," she even offers. "How do I ever know what to drink, when you are not around." "You do seem quite bereft," R'hin agrees, as he settles down onto the sand next to her once she's claimed her drink. He takes a sip from his own, matching glass, looking pleased. "Told the bartender it was for you; think he might've given you an extra shot." It's a statement, and yet curious, pale gaze settles on her, to judge her reaction to the drink. Under that watchful eye, Lilah takes a careful sip of the concoction, her expression giving away very little as she allows the taste of it to settle on her lips and tongue. It's only after a beat then two that she offers, "I think he might have. It's strong but-- fruity. Sweet." She glances back to the bartender before adding a dry, only half-way joking, "I hope that means that he takes no offense to the presence of another Fortian goldrider, then." R'hin's gaze lingers until he's satisfied with the response, stretching legs out in front of him and a hand behind him for balance. "Why," he asks, with a hint of his usual easy humor, "Are you to become a Southern junior, too? Now that you have a taste," with a subtle tip of head towards the glass, then the view, "Of the life?" "Not if I have a choice in the matter, despite how tempting this might be," Lilah replies dismissively, one shoulder rolling upwards in a shrug as she flicks a look sidelong towards R'hin. "I take it you're not considering a transfer, either." After a measured beat, R'hin asks, "Did Elise?" Have a choice, presumably. As for transferring himself, the Savannah Wingleader doesn't immediately say no. Instead, after a sip from his glass, "That depends," there's a fleeting smile, "Whether the next Weyrleader, if it's not K'del, decides we're too troublesome." Again. Lilah shakes her head, softly, only to answer in a murmur, "I didn't ask. I came to see her, but--. We were never that close." She lifts her glass to her lips again, listening to that answer with a hint of sharpened focus. And to this Wingleader, she tattles on another where she offers, "And if that happens to be H'vier? It seems he is determined to be the next Weyrleader." "Aren't you curious, whether it might happen to you, too?" R'hin certainly seems to be -- or at least, he seems interesting in planting the seeds of curiosity. There's a snort for his fellow Wingleader. "Your guess would be as good as mine." But he doesn't seem all that worried, truth be told. "He's made no secret of his ambitions. As have dozens of bronzeriders. I'd imagine Ali suffered much the same. This one, though," this Weyrleader, seems to be implied with a wave of his hand towards the Weyr in general, "Doesn't seem keen on securing his long term support from his Weyrwoman, from what I've heard. I'm interested to see how it turns out," he says, with a low-throated chuckle at the end. "Isyath hasn't ever chosen the same mate twice. If he wanted to secure his position, the only way to do so would be to diminish Ali's and Isyath's in the selection," counters Lilah, her gaze sliding back towards the Weyr as R'hin gestures to it, a small frown playing briefly at her lips. His question is only met with a light shrug, a gesture that is more careless than what is reflected in dark eyes, if she weren't still looking towards the Weyr. "Who would take me? Given Eliyaveith's condition and my reputation--. The only Weyrleader that would likely be willing is K'del. Somehow, I think I am safe." "Yet a Weyrleader, well considered by his Weyrwoman, could probably keep a Wingleader's role after. If it were you," R'hin leans closer, pale eyes intent, "What would you do to a Weyrleader who had... diminished you?" He waves his hand at the latter remark. "Yet Aedrielth hasn't risen at all and her not even a junior at trade -- perhaps you underestimate your worth." A brow curves upwards at that question, curving only more at his answer for hers though Lilah only answers with a dismissive, "Whatever worth I have, it doesn't seem that trading it is in the cards, yet, at least." It's the question that takes longer for the goldrider's response, taking a slow, thoughtful sip of her glass as she studies R'hin. She shifts, subconsciously, closer where he leans. Not much, but minutely. "What can one do, except ensure that their dragon does not catch the next time and then punish them? Though, you can be sure, I'd make his life miserably even as Weyrleader." "What can you do?" R'hin's brows twitch upwards, grimace rippling across his features at her response. "They'd be plenty of riders who know the Weyrleadership would be up for grabs in a few turns. I imagine they would want to curry favor. A Weyrwoman isn't given power through her Weyrleader," he says, firmly. "Look at Oriane... before M'kris. Nimae. Torani, before--" his lips press together abruptly, and he exhales sharply. "Even apart from all that, the Weyrwoman controls every aspect of every day life, from the bedding the Weyrleader gets, to the quality of food. I hope," he says, with a sudden sharpness, "Should you ever find yourself Weyrwoman to such a Weyrleader, that you do more than make his life miserable. I can provide plenty of suggestions." "If I ever find myself a Weyrwoman to such a Weyrleader, I will be certain to ask you for them," teases Lilah softly, though a thread of tension winds through words and shoulders both. "I will not be a Weyrwoman that is ruled by her Weyrleader. I may not even allow a Weyrleader, at all." Her dark eyes linger on him, especially at the emotions that are not the usual charm or amusement. Yet, yet, she adds, "I should return to Fort." "Good," R'hin says, with a certain satisfaction, as he leans back, taking a gulp from his glass. Her declaration of not allowing a Weyrleader earns a snort. "Sadly, if you throw out one tradition -- the Weyrleader -- you have no recourse to claim Weyrwoman. They come hand in hand, whether you like it or not." Or whether he does, given the brief ripple across his expression. It's her latter statement that stirs him to movement, almost immediately pushing to his feet, reaching down a hand for her to take. He's probably used to her not accepting, and yet it's persistence (obstinance?) that makes him offer nevertheless. It's the shifting sand under her feet and the strength of that drink, surely, that has Lilah accepting that helping hand, using it to pull herself to her feet with her mostly empty glass still in hand. (And the other one left forgotten on the beach.) It is probably not shifting sand and the strength of that drink that leads her to offer, simply, "You could come with, if you were interested." "To Fort?" As if the idea had never occurred to R'hin, and yet there's a hint of familiar amusement in pale eyes. His hand, in hers, slides along her arm to her elbow, as he appears to consider her. "You'd not head back unless you have some obligation. And I have some things to... finish up here. Perhaps we'll come by later, though?" "Perhaps," is repeated with a dry edge, Lilah's lips twisting into a half-smile at the word. "I promise not to wait with baited breath, then. Clear skies, R'hin." As she speaks, as his hand lingers against her skin, her fingers play briefly at the edge of his unbuttoned shirt before she moves to draw away and retreat. He's watching her walk away, of course, with an unapologetic grin, and only after he drains the rest of his glass does R'hin move onward towards the Weyr. |
Leave A Comment