Logs:Identities
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| RL Date: 20 May, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, I'zech |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani and I'zech talk about what they do, the differences between 'Brieli' & 'Aishani', and blame. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 11, Turn 31 (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: K'del/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
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| It's not so early in the day that the bar's not open; there's always a few people who figure it's noon somewhere and that's good enough for them. But the Snowasis doesn't need to be open for anyone to hang out on the patio - the weather just needs to be decent, and it is this morning, which might be why Aishani's found a table for herself and her work, whatever she's not reading weighted down with a rock. Long legs crossed, booted foot swinging, she's leaned back in her chair with papers in one hand, a mug that might have once been steaming in the other. Maybe morning duties knocked off early today, or maybe it's just one of those nice days where I'zech gets to dick around all morning while someone else tells the weyrlings when to turn left or right. It's hard to tell, really, whether or not I'zech just rolled out of bed or if he's been up for hours, since he always looks the same: just this side of disaster. Hair mussed, half-tied boots, stained trousers, a worn-out white shirt and his flight jacket over it, because it might be sunny but it surely isn't warm. He tromps up the steps of the ledge without a glance toward Aishani, a few minutes passing during which she can attend her papers, and then, with his own steaming mug, the bronzerider comes back out to take a seat across from her. Hazel eyes take an appraising look of the woman, and then he just lounges back and glances away, taking a sip of his klah. By contrast, Aishani is flawless. Her curls fall around her shoulders, tamed and glossy; her wine-dark jacket worn in a way that has it look stylish instead of scored; her own white shirt and short black dress neat and pressed. There's likewise not a lot of notice to the bronzerider, or anyone that passes by as she reads and drinks from her mug, fine brows coming together now and then. Her reading doesn't stop when I'zech sits down either, but his presence, and possibly that appraising look, eventually makes her lower her papers, glance around the somewhat vacant patio. With a quirk of lips, "Is there something I can do for you?" I'zech rolls his head back, eyes cast skyward at all the clear blue above. "I doubt it," he considers with his free hand lifting to scratch at his neck. He stretches his chin out, nails bristling through the stubble that is edging from haphazardly scruffy toward burgeoning beard. In the midst of the scratching, his gaze cuts lo again, across at her, and he cracks a smile. "What do you do, exactly?" There might be a touch of suggestion in it, but that might just be a joke. It's Shani's turn to consider I'zech, head tilting to the side, only faintly bemused. Papers in her lap now, though still in hand, "I suppose if there's not much you want, no." Her sharp, dark gaze flickers over the half-tied boots, the stains, the disaster in full without much of a reaction, but her nose does wrinkle a touch, girlish. Shrugging easily, her tone is wry as she smirks. "Inspire the Weyr and the Holds and set an example of dragonriders for our kind," she says dramatically, then finishes off her mug, leaning forward to set it on top of the papers on the table. "And read a lot of reports. And plan meals. And plot to destroy you all." The girlish nose wrinkle and the smirk are enough to produce a twist of a smile on I'zech's face, fully knowing, even before she starts to talk. "Do you have an exit plan with all that?" he asks with his own wry tone. "The destroying us, part. Or do you plan to go down with the ship when it's time, blaze of glory." It might not be a real question. He leaves his itchy beard alone and hooks that arm over the back of his chair, half-torqued as he lifts his mug again. "How's that example setting working out for you?" With a wave of her hand, leaning back again, "Details. I suppose I could just run off somewhere; worked for... some people." Aishani's dislike for K'del is well-known, why bother naming names on that front? "Or go down with the ship, as they say. It would be fitting, I think - it has the balance of a tale, yes? I have a sense, though, that I might be talked out of that." Real question or no, it's something to talk about. With an arch of fine brows for his last, she has to flash a grin. "Just brilliantly, as I'm sure you've seen. My turns of experience come in handy for that." While less well-known, with his opinions being of consequence to no one, I'zech doesn't have any history of supporting their illustrious former Weyrleader, though there's only the dull frown of his mouth as a remark on 'some people'. Or maybe he's just a fan of running off. "Does sound like a story," he agrees. "It could probably use a few more twists, though, before the grand finale." If she can be talked out of careening toward a fiery end for all, well, that can be someone else job. He drinks again, pouting to realize he's made so much progress on the mug already. "These things need to be bigger," he says to no one, really. Though hey, maybe that -is- something she can help with. And then he looks back up at Aishani with a waiting smile, like a man with his finger on the detonator. "Your experience," he echoes. "I guess that would explain a few things." He lets his eyes rove over her again, in no hurry. "I'm sure someone will come up with something. They always do." If Aishani sounds dry about that, is displeased about the something that someone usually comes up with, can she be blamed? Boot swinging idly again, arms folding her jacket closed over her, she slouches into it, noting with only a faint note of bitterness, "I didn't pick them out. Like most things around here, they're a problem left by someone gone before." I'zech's attention doesn't even seem to be noticed, for all that it might be obvious, though she glances his way, amused. "Is this where I'm supposed to ask 'what?' I find most people's experience - or lack thereof - explains a lot, most of the time." I'zech is only mildly disappointed with the way she wraps her jacket tight and shutters away his view of the white shirt beneath. Oh well. It almost takes him a beat to realize that she's addressing his mug issue, a curious cock of his brow creeping up just before understanding sinks in. "Fun, how it's only the problems you get to be responsible for. Praise dies quickly, blame lasts forever." He lets his fingers drum over the mug that is totally not the topic of conversation. The idea that she's supposed to ask anything gets a huff of a laugh. "Do you regret it? Becoming Aishani again? After everything Brieli did." With his arm hanging over the back of his chair, he lifts a vague gesture that pairs with a flick of brows, laying some deal of credit at the feet of an imaginary persona. With another little wrinkle of her nose, this time in agreement, Aishani nods once. "Blame lasts forever," she echoes. "I'll have to remember that. Unless you die. It's difficult to blame the dead, may as well pass it on to the living." For all her supposed lack of experience, she sounds, in that moment, rather older than her turns. Aiming another sharp, curious look I'zech's way, "If you know that, knew that, why bother being responsible for the future? It's quite the duty." As for regrets, 'Brieli' versus who she is now, "I was always Aishani. Just not everyone was aware of it. Brieli is with my family. It might have made things easier, to go along. But that wasn't the point." "You sure about that? Brieli had nothing but good fortune. Nice big gold dragon who could keep a secret, a claim on the Weyr, got herself some spiffed-up bronzerider to keep her entertained on cold nights." I'zech flashes her a feral smile, whether there's jacket blocking his view or not. "Aishani... has all that ugly shit piled on her, Wingleaders throwing fits, Holders breathing down her neck, all puffed up like a scared cat in a corner. But," he says with a sigh and a flippant toss of his hand. "If you've got a point to make..." He tips his head in empty deference. And with all that done, he gets back around to her question. "You mean the weyrlings? Wasn't my idea." Straightening up a little to peer across the bowl at Iesaryth curled up on her ledge pointedly, "None of that has gone anywhere." And indeed, though there's not a Fortian bronze around as much as usual these days, he's still around. Aishani smirks again I'zech's way, noting, "It's possible that you were too drunk to pay attention, but Brieli had other Weyrs, the Weyr Council on her back and Holders camped out and snooping around while claiming to build a road. And the point was the only reason to be here." Was, which might be part of the problem - why the hell is she here now. As for the scared cat thing, that's not even dignified with a comment. "What a shock. That still doesn't answer why though, does it?" She doesn't seem to expect an answer. She does seem to like to make points. I'zech gives one of those uneven blinks, that expression that there should really be a word for, when eyelashes droop close to closing and brows lift high. It's like rolling eyes, but really not, is it. Anyway, that is what I'zech does, admitting there's every possibility he was to drunk to recall all the threats Brieli had to weather. "Guess there's no difference, then," he defers easily enough, except that there's nothing in his expression that makes it look like he's submitting. "Depends on how much choice you think there was in the matter," he remarks on 'why', giving a shrug before his arm unwinds from the back of the chair. "Maybe it would have been better to be stuck on some dull watchduty in the middle of nowhere. I could have caught up on my sleeping." He lifts his brows high for that lovely option now passed, forehead wrinkling as he drains the last of his mug. "The difference," Aishani has to admit, "Is instead of people thinking there might be a reason to distrust me, they're certain there's a reason to distrust me. So they're inclined to believe whatever anyone says. I don't know if it matters all that much; I suppose it depends on how much the details really matter to you." As she sits straight again, forward to shuffle the papers together, find the folder beneath to slide them into, she glances across the table, brows arching again. "Some people would rather than then the responsibility of young minds, lives. There's almost always a choice, just not always a good one." There's something about those words that curve her lips into a wry, amused little smile. "I suppose we all do what we must." "Maybe I just enjoy the idea that there are people all around distrusting me with the responsibility of young minds and lives," I'zech says with a flash of teeth. He pushes his mug across the table to her and slings himself out of his chair; it appears he intends for her to deal with his dirty dishes. "Speaking of..." He tips a sloppy salute at Aishani, one more look at her like he might be able to see through the table to whatever her legs are doing beneath it. That's all there is for his goodbye before he turns to head off. |
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