Logs:Imminent Choices
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| RL Date: 7 August, 2013 |
| Who: N'rad, Briony |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: One of the renegade riders propositions N'rad, and warns him something will be happening soon. |
| Where: Lakeside Grove, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 6, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: S'fin/Mentions |
| The day has been warm, perfect summer weather, really. As evening draws closer, the shadows grow longer, making the relative temperatures seem almost cooler than they really are. This has caused most people to filter away toward their various evening haunts, but under the trees of the grove, one rider still remains. He seems to be whittling pieces of small driftwood with a small penknife. The shavings around him would indicate he's been at it for a while now. "Hello, N'rad." It's as if by magic that the tall form of the forty-something Briony appears, no herald of her arrival but her voice and /now/ the crunch of slim, dead branches and pine needles under her boots. Dark eyes fix on the form of the young bronzerider, a toss of chestnut curls prematurely greying given as she saunters over and plants herself across from him, entirely uninvited and seemingly not wishing to wait for any such invitation. "How are we, my boy? Been a while. Not quite sure /how long/ though. Your bronze boy was much smaller, last we met. Tiny thing. Now he's bigger than my brown." The whittling stops when N'rad first hears his name. His body grows still, except for his eyes, which swivel to spot Briony, watching her progress as she moves across from him. The whittled piece, which seems on its way toward forming part of a model ship, is set aside. He makes as if to fold the penknife, then stops, just holding it in both hands, not entirely hiding it from view. When the woman finishes speaking, however, he does finish folding it and sets it next to the driftwood carving. "A while," he agrees, voice tense, shoulders following. "Fort's been good for him." Briony watches the knife - when it's folded and when it /isn't/ - and remarks, "Cute," under her breath, small smirk setting up camp at one corner of her mouth. "Anyway, I'm sure it has." Not sarcasm there, but acceptance, if reluctant. "... It'd be a shame if they were all to find out how you begged and pleaded and /jumped/ at the chance to get near your Maldoranth's egg..." Which of course he didn't, but. "And your folks, well... that they've got a thief and a liar for a kid. I can guess it'd be very disappointing all round. Your folks /are/ still around, right?" That smirk tips its way over into a thin, slow-building smile. "Listen up, boy. Telling you this 'cause you ain't a bad sort. You're one of us. And see, things're going to change 'round here pretty soon." Either N'rad has been getting better at his poker face, or what Briony's just told him isn't a surprise. He looks across at her for a few more seconds, then away toward the lake, where the last few bits of the day's brightness reflect off the water. He picks up the half-finished bit of whittling and turns it in his hands, brushing away a few stray curls of wood before looking at her again. "Came all this way to threaten me." Half question, half statement. He looks back at the carving, then sticks it in the pocket with his knife before he gets to his feet and starts brushing stuff off his trousers. "What do you want, exactly?" "Came all this way because I /want/ you," Briony shoots back, quick as you like. She gives him but a bare second to interpret that however he wants before she's clarifies, "Not like /that/, darling. Don't worry." Tracking him without /quite/ looking at him directly, she tells N'rad, "You're a good kid. Bronze chose you; that means something. We wanted you; means something too. Didn't /have/ to bring you back here, you know. Thought you'd do better and you /have/, but you knew the deal soon as we taught you all we could. You're /ours/. One of us. Not theirs." Her smile returns, though it's just a flicker this time. "We've got a good thing going. Someone to look out for us and he... Well, he just wants more /time/. But it's a /good/ deal. Better than you'll get here. You deserve it." N'rad is not entirely the kid he was when he and Maldoranth first showed up outside the Weyr. While worry creases his brow slightly, he's not as flustered as he once would have been, instead taking the time to look around him, toward the lake again, at the trees, at the Weyr's walls. There is a mild grimace before he looks at Briony again. "Someone who can give can also take away," the teen murmurs quietly, his frown deepening. "Is this... the stuff down at Boll? Thought I saw..." There's a glimpse of the flustered kid he was in the beginning. "Took all I had not to let Mal turn around to fly back. That would've been pretty stupid. Had one of the people here with us." He looks away again and stares at the lake, not looking away from it this time before asking, "You want me? To do what? Leave here?" "Not so easily if you know that whatever you have may be fleeting." Briony positively lights up when she hears of Maldoranth's actions; what /would/ have been his actions, had he the choice. "See, he /knows/. He knows you belong with us," she insists, quiet passion beginning to seep into her tone. "We gave him to you and you to him. /We/ were the ones who gave you what you love most." Or so she can only assume. What rider doesn't love their dragon the most? "I want you to choose. I want you to come with us; come /home/. Leave here and come with us. We've everything you could have here and more. And when the job's done... we could do /anything/." For a moment, the pensive look on N'rad's face might almost look like he's considering it. Right until the end, when it's replaced by a look of what might be alarm. Or at least strong skepticism. "Job," he repeats, voice quiet, but flat. Those light blue eyes of his seem more a dark grey as he stares at Briony while the alarm slowly morphs into worry. "What..." He stops, closes his eyes and looks away briefly. "Wait... no. I don't want to know." This time when he opens his eyes again, it's to glare at the other rider. It's not a strong glare, but it's about all N'rad can manage. "You bring up my family first, then you say 'choose'. Like there's a sharding choice. Like there's ever /been/ a choice. Well, what if what I have here is enough?" he asks, motioning toward the rest of the Weyr. "There's been a choice, sweetheart. Can't bear what happened? Between to nowhere. End of. There /is/ a choice - you just don't /like/ it," Briony spits back as she makes to head right into his personal space, even though she has to look up at him once she's done so. "/I'm/ saying choose. Make it easy on yourself. Read between the lines. We both know I'm one of the nicer options you're going to get here." She flings an arm out, gesturing not towards the Weyr proper, but into the tree line and the shadows starting to fall. "Another day? Might not be me. /They'll/ force your hand. You don't like /my/ mentioning you family? Wait for /them/. And hey, if someone forces /my/ hand, I'm not above making the call to make /you/ see straight." That hand lifts now, aiming to grab at his chin and make him look down at her. "Two sevens and I'm gone and I can't do anything for you. Like pandering to Holders and waiting to /die/ could ever be enough!" Adam's apple bobs as N'rad swallows, hard. The former, skittish self has returned somewhat as he looks down at the other rider. "Is that what S'fin did?" he asks, but his voice is too strained to be tough, too scratchy. "He chose /that/ instead?" It would be a little more threatening if not for the slight quaver in his voice. Briony softens, her hand retreating. "I don't know about S'fin. His loss was... unexpected," she murmurs. "I don't think what he did was deliberate. I think he was /driven away/." And if those words are bitter and brittle? Who can blame her. "But don't take things so literally, sweet boy. I was illustrating a point." Her fingers press to her collarbone as she entreats, "Choose /us/. Choose a better life and come back to the people who raised you. You've got all you need from this Weyr." Stepping forward again, she goes to plant a kiss on him whether he likes it or not. So much for not wanting him. Or maybe it's just to drag him back to focusing on her. "Two sevens. Don't forget. I can't promise you'll see me again." And that's the last he'll see of her today, for she slips around him and off into the trees, vanishing as swiftly as she appeared. |
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