Logs:Just a Rider
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| RL Date: 20 May, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rhin and Edyis talk in the Riders' Lounge, about the before and after of hatching. |
| Where: Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: 6D 11M 37T I10, autumn night |
| Mentions: Z'kiel/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions, Laine/Mentions, T'mic/Mentions, R'van/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Feel free to edit, correct, and alter away! |
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>---< Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr(#1803RJ) >---------------------------<
About as high up the bowl wall as it is possible to get before hitting
clear sky, right up against the rim, this ledge is tiny, narrow and not
terribly inviting. Though angled towards the sun, there's not enough room
to properly stretch out, and that same angle ensures it receives the worst
of bad weather, with no shelter whatsoever. From above, there's not even
an obvious passage inside, as if this particular ledge is, in the end,
nothing more than a natural outcropping. It's only from atop the ledge
itself that the cleverly concealed entrance becomes clear, angled into the
stone as it is.
Inside, there's a cavernous space, more than making up for the stinginess
of the ledge. There's one large main room, and a much smaller back room
that could probably be used as a bedroom - if this weyr were in
traditional usage. Instead, the main cavern is largely filled with a
collection of mismatched tables and chairs. Towards the back, there's a
bar made out of old, recycled wood, manned during peak hours; there's
plenty of alcohol on display behind it, though most of it tends towards
the cheaper end of the range. Old, but still impressive, hangings cover
the walls, all depicting scenes of High Reaches in glory. The back room
has been turned into a storage area, with several cases of whisky and a
variety of other spirits ready and waiting.
A strange pipe contraption comes through the ceiling and towards the stone
floor, where a large bucket sits beneath it. A lever turns on water from
the pipe: fresh rain or snow, ready for drinking.
>-----------------------------------------< 6D 11M 37T I10, autumn night >---< With the first touches of snow already beginning to descend on High Reaches, the Riders' Lounge isn't the busiest locale by far this evening. But, still, the diehards are here -- seated around their favorite tables and talking old, familiar friends. Savannah are finishing up their weekly card game, starting to disperse one by one, off to warmer places -- R'hin, however, is seated on one of the couches, talking in low words with an unfamiliar brunette, each with a glass of something in hand. Old habits die hard, and the weyrling who slips into the lounge knotless, and dressed for warmth, goes straight for the hearth. She feeds a few lumps of Crom coal in and stoking up the fire. It is only after that dark eyes shift to the dispersing riders, a warm smile offered in lieu of proper greeting. Her gaze briefly flickers to the wingleader, but the presence of the brunette seems enough of a deterrent for the moment, instead the former scribe settling into a table if left to her own devices. And left to her own devices she is, for the nonce; a few of the Savannah riders nod in the weyrling's direction, Nita winks, but none of them stop, talking of their next destination for the night: apparently it's somewhere warm and they're eager to leave. R'hin doesn't appear to be going with them, neither do they seem to expect it, judging by the amused comments as the wing departs. It's some time before the talk over at the couch finishes; with a laugh on the brunette's part, though nothing more intimate than a squeeze of hands, before the woman makes her way towards the exit. R'hin watches, but doesn't escort her -- apparently she has her own way down. Leaning forward, the bronzerider drains his glass, gaze falling unerringly on Edyis, waiting for her to meet pale gaze. Drink poured from a new leather flask, her notebook pulled out, she's quite warm and content by the time the conversation ends, reviewing perhaps the days notes. Dark eyes lift, and a brow arches gently, "I'm not working the lounge tonight, you can procure your own refill." She teases, warmly, waiting patiently for - something. "Yes," R'hin says blandly, "Your days as a bartender are indeed over." He spreads his hands for a moment. "And here I thought perhaps you wanted to talk -- this is hardly the place one comes to study," the Savannah rider says, as he pushes to his feet, walking past her towards the bar. He leans against it, signaling the on duty waitress with a nod, fingers tapping the glass. "That would depend on if you were in the mood for talking." She hedges though her gaze does go to the hearth. "Otherwise, it is a nice feeling, being someplace comfortable and familiar. Someplace that isn't overrun with growing dragons and moody weyrlings." Once R'hin has secured his drink -- with the scattering of a few coins obviously meant to discharge an earlier debt, he walks back towards the couch he's chosen. "I am always in the mood," the faint emphasis familiar enough that it barely requires any weight from the bronzerider. With a gesture that is obvious invitation, he seats himself back down on the couch. Edyis taps a finger against the notebook, lips thinning for an instant before closing the book and tucking it back into the satchel. "Not usually for talking, or at least you have a delightful habit of avoiding certain subjects," Still, she migrates to the couch, settling in comfortably. With a low-throated chuckle, R'hin doesn't seem inclined to deny that accusation. "Try your luck. Perhaps I'm feeling particularly indulgent tonight." That might have something to do with the generous gulp of the liquid he takes, looking at Edyis expectantly. Edyis snorts, her lips curling faintly at the edges, studying her drink. Still the pensive beat that follows, may make it seem like there are many things on her mind but she starts at the first. "Ok, what happened that you disappeared for three months, and even Leiventh couldn't be reached?" R'hin's brows go upwards, portraying really? as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud. "Has your head gotten so big since you Impressed that I should report to you, now?" He appears amused, at any rate, and if there's any tension it's only in the flippant addition of: "You'll have to ask Leiventh about the latter. He doesn't care to explain to me his dragon whims." That she flinches slightly at the words, has your head gotten so big may or may not be visible in the firelight. "Forget it." She adds a half-beat later, "You pick the topic then." She suggests tipping back her glass for a healthy gulp. Surely R'hin, ever observant, notices, and yet he doesn't draw attention to it. "Your fellow weyrlings," he prompts, before flicking fingers towards as if to say, your turn. "What do you want to know? You've seen one bunch of Weyrlings, you've seen them all." She replies easily tipping her head back a moment considering the question more deeply. "You've got Zak, who looks more dangerous and abrasive than he is. T'mic and Jorrth, who are just refreshingly simple to be around. Farideh's already trying to perfect the goldrider mask. Keysi's about as intense as ever, Yesia wants to play the victim after being the bully of candidacy. R'van keeps to himself mostly, haven't gotten a read on the others yet. Sort of dealing with a teenage male tidal wave in my thoughts." "No, you really haven't," R'hin replies, sharply. "People always have individual traits. Dragons, too. No two groups are ever quite the same." He's silent while she speaks, listening -- though more accurately watching her facial expression as she says each name. It's only at the end that he snorts, amused. "Dragons are not humans. You ought not attribute human maturity to them, and particularly not when you have never been a teenage male." "I don't attribute him with any maturity, just the sort of hair brained recklessness that winds up with us in trouble." Edyis points out, with a laugh. "I'll add getting to know my clutchmates to the list of things to do better this month." She adds as an afterthought, "Or I can just get you the notebooks." Another drink from her glass and she dares to venture, "You were disappointed I impressed?" "Some say that a dragon is a reflection of his rider. I'd imagine the term hair brained recklessness could just as easily be applied to yourself now and then, no?" R'hin counters, with a twitch of brows. He waves off her offer of notebooks, carelessly. It's her latter question that earns a more measured, weighted response, after a lift of his glass to wet his lips. "I was disappointed," he allows that interpretation, "That you chose to limit yourself when I showed you that you could be more than a holder or a scribe or a waitress. More than just a rider." His voice drops, quiet, but intent for all that: "I thought I showed you possibility." Edyis shrugs when compared to her dragon. "Perhaps." She allows before her brows knit together faintly at the word. "Possibility." She echoes after a moment thoughtful. "Is that what I am now? Just a rider?" "For now? Yes," R'hin replies, blandly, no effort made to sugar coat it. "It's what you chose." "Lovely, you can join all the other disappointed folks, I hear there's a club now." She quips in reply, with a shrug knocking back the last of the glass's contents. "The problem with possibilities R'hin, is just that. They are possibilities, things that might be, things that could be, but never things that are. Like sugar cubes to coax a shy runner dangled tantalizingly under their nose, but dissolved in an instant." It isn't quite angry, but there is something there in the blandness of her tone. "Oh, don't let my disappointment affect you. It's your life, after all," R'hin reminds her with a twist of lips. He makes a noise at the back of his throat, as he sits forward, abruptly. "Does it make you feel more comfortable with your choice, to believe that?" he asks, genuinely curious, head cocked to one side. "The freedoms you enjoyed are predicated now, on your dragon, and thus, on the Weyr, and thus, on who who runs the Weyr and who you report to. Who would miss a waitress if she chose to spend a seven, or two sevens, or more, somewhere else, doing something else? Savannah is the exception, not the rule, and the rule has never been one I've been comfortable with. Perhaps you'll fare better." "Who will go looking for a waitress when she disappears or doesn't come back?" She counters dark eyes intent, "Of course I regret it, of course, it has been absolutely fucking miserable. Of course it promises to be even more fucking miserable, Savannah is an exception sure, but even that exception relies on whichever people are in power." She shakes her head, "So no it doesn't make me feel any more comfortable with this pyre I've built for myself, but it does help me accept it. And maybe... think of a way past it." The last almost a prayer. "For the waitress that was, Savannah would've," with a twitch of lips. Now? R'hin does not elucidate, and yet one could read between the lines. "There are certain things you must accept as inevitable. Losing an unwinnable fight is one of them. But some are more mutable." The bronzerider's fingers tap against his lips. "For example, difficult clutchmates. I fought with many -- all," with a twist of lips, "Of my clutchmates. And yet by the end, we had become fast friends, sharing a vision and a potential for a future we all dreamed of. Friendships that have lasted to this day, and amongst my most treasured. I taught you better than to waste such an opportunity." What uncomfortable thoughts are gleaned between the lines, Edyis's expression does not reveal though might be guessed. As for the rest, there is a smirk, "It isn't over yet, do give me some credit." Though something in that causes her breath to hitch, "I'm not a visionary R'hin, I don't know anymore which battles are worth fighting." After a beat she adds, "Maybe I never did." At her assertion that it is not over yet, R'hin gives her a nod, as if he wasn't sure she was aware of it. His answer for her conundrum is simple: "Then find someone who does, and help them." The thought draws her into a pensive silence. "And if no acceptable visionary can be found?" It makes him chuckle, unaccountably. The reason is obvious why when he says, "Then you're fucked." "Well, It was bound to happen eventually." She laughs, but it is a warm and easy sort of laughter. "I best hunt down a visionary then." She sighs as she glances to the firelight, "I don't suppose I could sweet talk you into a ride down? Akluseth needs another oiling." She frowns, "And thank you for leaving me with a hysterical greenrider the other day. What did Levienth do to her anyway? She wouldn't budge from Akluseth. Which I got blamed for." R'hin, too, grins, pale eyes glittering. With a glance towards the bar: "I feel like another is owed me before I leave. But I can call someone." At her mention of Leiventh, the Wingleader gives a casual shrug, and just as casual answer: "Leiventh doesn't tend to share his exploits with other dragons." Draining the rest of his drink, he pushes to his feet, with a sharp exhale as expression goes distant. "I might take you down, after all." He doesn't explain the sudden change of mind, but is already moving for the ledge, where snow is gathering, as Leiventh descends and lands in a swirl. Edyis says, "Looks like I owe you another drink then." She says of his change of mind, eyeing him curiously, but following out to the ledge." He gives an easy, if wordless nod for once, quick to mount up, careful of the healed wound on the dragon's neck. Out of habit, more than anything, R'hin offers her a hand, and once she's settled, Leiventh drops off the ledge, making wide, slow spirals towards the ground, depositing them close to the barracks, before disappearing shortly thereafter into the slowly descending snow. |
Comments
Alida (16:57, 20 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
I wonder if Glacier will ever fully accept Alida back into its embrace, after I read this. Strange thoughts. That said...*nods* to both R'hin and Edyis.
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