Logs:Just People
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| RL Date: 5 July, 2014 |
| Who: R'hin, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin retrieves his jacket. That's about all that goes well. Azaylia stands her ground. |
| Where: Harper Classroom/Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 3, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
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| Harper Classroom, High Reaches Weyr A thick door provides some soundproofing against the escape of sour notes and the chanting of Harper Ballads that are common in this room. Chalkdust from the blackboard lingers in the air, motes of the stuff catching the light from many glows clustered in a hanging basket in the middle of the ceiling as well as tucked into sconces around the walls. Just inside the door, cubicles line one wall, each labeled with a child's name and containing various bits of lesson equipment: slates, chalk, scrap hide and paper, pens, ink and pots of glue. Long benches span the room, providing seating for at least fifty children between the ages of seven and fourteen; a tall wood screen stands folded near the middle of one wall, ready to divide the room into groups of older and younger students for more age-targeted study. Storage shelves along the back wall hold musical instruments for learning, mostly small hand drums and single bore pipes plus two rather battered xylophones.
"No, I'm certain Hraedhyth wasn't searching you." Azaylia's delicate voice trembles with the effort to keep from laughing, "Yes, you can still be a candidate. The class is-- oh." The Weyrwoman stops, the gangly teen she's steering with a hand peering around excitedly. "Looks like we just missed them. So, go on to the Headwoman's office and she'll get you settled in." Once the newest candidate is running off, there's a pointed glance for R'hin and the young girl he's speaking with. She lingers, though there's a step toward the exit despite what concerns she may have. The slight flicker of pale eyes that rest on the newcomers a moment suggests R'hin's well aware of their presence, though his attention quickly returns to the girl, who looks a little uncertain all of a sudden. Perhaps she uses the Weyrwoman as an excuse; the goldrider's arrival has her straightening, ma'am'ing, and shooting a guilty look at R'hin like she's sure, somehow, she's in trouble. "I was just... going." Skittishly, the girl darts with a surprising swiftness for the exit, ahead of Azaylia, leaving a bemused looking Wingleader staring after her, then at Azaylia. Azaylia is sure to stay out of the girl's hasty retreat, taking more of a step back than is necessary. Suddenly sounding tired, resigned, "What did you do?" Surely it's R'hin's fault. Lifting a hand, she doesn't look at him as she decides against it, "Never mind." "She's scared of you, actually." R'hin offers, despite her waving it off, perhaps because it amuses him, even if it's briefly. "Me?" That shocks Azaylia into looking at him, brows lowering in faint concern. "Why would she be afraid of me?" Crossing her arms, there may be a hint of accusation as she watches the Wingleader. If there's satisfaction in the response, it doesn't show in R'hin's even gaze. "You're the Weyrwoman. She was five when the exiles were taken from their Island. A five Turn old doesn't remember the why, only the terror and loss of families and friends and being taken from her home." The explanation eases some of the tension from her shoulders, although there's some annoyance as Azaylia murmurs, "I wasn't even... Hraedhyth's dam wasn't even hatched, then." She's hardly The Weyrwoman responsible for it. Giving a little shake of her head, she takes a step toward the door to rest a hand on it. Still, she lingers. Quick, though no less sincere for it, "I'm sorry about Leiventh." "You are part of the establishment responsible for it, and the harpers -- I would suspect -- tell a different tale from what her relatives do." The fact that R'hin was here for the entire lesson, loitering in the back, is probably something she won't find out until later. A long beat of silence follows the latter words, and the bronzerider stands, slowly. "Leiventh's forgotten all about it," he says, finally. "I am now. I came to the Weyr right when they did." Albeit in a much less traumatizing manner. It's not much of an argument, the goldrider letting it go with a gentle exhale. Mention of the bronze has her glancing over her shoulder, "Oh." Sounding more relieved than surprised, "Good." With a soft nod she slips back out of the classroom, possibly taking a cue from his typically silent exits. It could have been a dramatic exit, indeed, if in fact she didn't become aware of the fact that R'hin's on her heels, a pace or two behind, as she leaves. There is only one exit, of course. Azaylia tosses a glance over her shoulder, realization brightening her expression as she continues on her way. When the tunnels offer more options, the goldrider heads toward the foggy entrance out into the bowl. Surely she's lost R'hin along the way. Surely she has more credit for R'hin's persistence. He's there, of course, following closely on her heels like a well-trained canine. There's not even a pause despite the step out into the cold air. Only when they get out into the fog does Azaylia suddenly turn, arms crossing in annoyance as well as against the chill. "R'hin." The annoyance returns, though she sounds more exasperated than angry. For now. "What are you doing?" R'hin's, apparently, not nearly adroit enough to stop in time, for once; the accidental contact when she turns suddenly leading to him lifting a steadying hand to her arm. "You have my jacket," he reminds her, patient in the face of her exasperation. Azaylia doesn't push his hand away, though she does glance at it before looking up at him. A blink of surprise, "I do?" Her expression smooths, features soft as she tries to remember. "Oh. I didn't realize it was yours." Turning back, it's only fair that she let him follow as she walks toward her weyr. Polite, "Why didn't you pick it up sooner?" R'hin's hand drops away, and he keeps pace with her as she turns and starts to walk again. The fog makes for an eerie setting, making the afternoon seem closer to twilight, softening all sounds but their footsteps as they cross the bowl. Why? It's a good question, and one that earns some silent steps before he answers in a near-inaudible voice, "I had to wait to be sure he forgot." "That's... a good reason." Azaylia's murmur echoes R'hin, if full of guilt. The walk will be silent for a good portion, until her boots touch on the first step up to the complex. "Hraedhyth doesn't speak to other riders." What she can offer as an explanation, whispered words easily carried way by the slowly swirling fog. R'hin doesn't seem inclined to soothe the awkwardness by breaking the silence, though after that note of guilt in her voice, Azaylia may well feel the slight, almost unnoticed pressure of the bronzerider's hand resting lightly in the curve of her back as a conciliatory gesture. The latter comment earns a quizzical, sidelong look. If Azaylia notices the touch she doesn't speak of it, still tense enough to leave one guessing. There's a curious glance toward the Weyrleader's weyr as they pass, steps hurrying once she catches herself. For R'hin's confusion, "I just... she was, we were, angry at you. She should've said something to you. Not Leiventh." Once inside her weyr, the goldrider takes a moment to recall where she put the forgotten jacket. It comes to her with a start, climbing the short steps to her desk and plucking up the folded leather coat. "Here." She'll walk down and offer it up between both hands. The sharp-eyed bronzerider, of course, notices that look towards K'del's weyr, though he follows Azaylia wordlessly into her weyr. Despite arriving here, R'hin's still following, such that when she turns to walk back down the steps from her desk, he's standing at the bottom, looking up at her with guarded, pale eyes. "You were angry at me. Why does what you feel affect her so strongly, after all these Turns?" The question visibly startles her, hands bringing the jacket closer to her chest when he doesn't take it right away. "I... what? Why would it stop?" Azaylia seems genuinely confused, explaining it so simply, "We're the same." Realizing her tight grip on the leather, she pushes it at him again. "I didn't say it would stop, but distinguishing you from her, and," R'hin pauses, a brief grimace, "Protecting her from yourself is something you should... consider." And while she can push the jacket against his chest, he doesn't reach to take it; pale eyes are intent on her expression, his position on the lower step putting them almost of a height. "That's not us." An easy answer as she regains some of her composure. When he doesn't take the jacket, she gives an annoyed exhale and tucks it under one of her arms. It could be that she feels some explanation is in order, given Leiventh. "My anger didn't upset her. You did." Almost even in height, Azaylia tilts her head, "Now will you take your jacket?" R'hin doesn't seem done, and he doesn't take his jacket, voice intent as he leans forward. "If she gets upset over everything I do, then either Leiventh will need to grow a thicker skin, or you'll need to learn to... protect her. Protect Leiventh. Other dragons." From her might be the implication, though pale eyes are even, guarded still, but serious. "Or you could leave me alone." Azaylia leans forward with what little room he allows her, this time using the jacket to give his chest a push. "Like I told you to." If he still chooses not to take it, she'll look to push past him and set the coat on the table outside. "She didn't expect Leiventh to feel it so much. She doesn't realize-- with the eggs." The implication isn't lost on her, and it's the reason for her own hard-eyed stare. "I could," R'hin says, though the dry emphasis suggests that's unlikely. "The eggs are not why-- kitten." When she looks to push past him, at first it looks like he'll let her, turning sideways, though as she starts to move past his hand reaches out to snake around her waist, like they're about to start a dance. Instead, in that breath of closeness, for as long as it lasts, he murmurs down at her, "I didn't tell him. Won't, if that's what you're worried about." Azaylia stiffens in his arms long enough to hear, before she breaks out of his hold. "It's not." She doesn't make it all the way out of the weyr, turning with the jacket clutched against her. "I've have enough people I can't trust in my life, R'hin. You're honest about that, but it doesn't make it better." Shoulders slumping, "I don't know why you keep pushing. It hurts me. It... Leiventh was an accident." The hard stare returns, for her dragon's sake, "And yes, the eggs made it worse. I should have known better because of that." Vehemently, "Hraedhyth's not a monster and it won't happen again." It seems to be what she's taking from his insinuations. "Don't trust me," R'hin agrees, "But trust my motives; that I want what's best for the Weyr. As for why I keep pushing--" he lets her break free, lets his arm drop, but takes a step forward to retain that nearness, his voice low and intent, "Because I see possibilities, and if I can steer things down a brighter path and away from a darker one, then at least I'll have contributed something meaningful." He's breathing hard by the time he finishes that statement, pale eyes full of fire and certainty. That certainty continues in his voice as he goes on, "Our dragons," the our particularly emphasized, "At their cores are creatures of emotion. They react without the benefit of memories. They are innocent, pure. They are not monsters, but creatures without our baggage, and that makes it our job to protect them." "I'm not yours to... to mold. I'm not a thing to steer. And that's exactly why I don't want to be near you. You're always trying to toy with me." She has no appreciation for mindgames. Azaylia falls silent for the rest, muscles in her smooth jaw flexing for a quick moment. Quiet but heated, "Yes." It's one thing they can agree on, at least. But, "I trust that you want what's best for the Weyr. You need to find a way to help that isn't... toying with me. Acting like you're a friend, when you're not." "What do you want me to be?" It seems like a genuine question, R'hin's pale gaze questioning. Startled yet again, "I don't... get to have a say in that." Slowly, as if that much should be obvious. "You should be R'hin. Just... be R'hin away from me. I can't keep my guard up around you, too." It's exhausting. "No?" R'hin's tone seems to suggest otherwise. "If you want me to leave you be, I'll leave you be. But I don't think that's what you really want." A beat. "Perhaps then we should try not being friends. Just people, with no expectations." "Fine." Azaylia finally completes her journey, walking out of the weyr and to the 'leader's niche outside. She sets his jacket out on the table there. Upon returning, "'Just people' don't try to whisk me off in the middle of the night. Or draw me baths." One last pointed look before she moves toward the hearth, stoking it up so that she can get a pot of tea going. That pointed look gives her a quick glance of R'hin's expression; drawn tight and guarded, pale eyes flat. "When you start to feel the mundanity of your life, and realize that trust is the least important part of what defines the relationship between you and I... then let me know, kitten." For now, R'hin is stalking out of her weyr, collecting his jacket on the way. It's with mild surprise that Azaylia watches him go, head turned away from the cabinet she has opened. When he doesn't return after retrieving his jacket, the Weyrwoman places the extra cup away before finding a spot on the couch for herself. |
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