Logs:Let's Make A Deal
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| RL Date: 16 January, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Brieli, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The Weyrwomen interro... interview the new Istan transfer, H'vier. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 10, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. Autumn is doing its best to creep up on High Reaches Weyr, so much like the drifting fog, lulling the folk into a false sense of security. It's not snow, after all, but it's certainly not Ista's typically warm weather. The chambers are meant to keep out most of the chill, a fact that's not lost on Azaylia, who's quick to skip on inside. She gives a little mock shiver for her better half, nothing too dramatic, given the tray she carries with both hands. She waits on Brieli before walking further inside, setting what must be a pitcher of klah and several mugs down. Hraedhyth has not been subtle in her intense scrutiny of Reisoth, so it can't be a terrible surprise when the queen demands his rider's presence in the council chambers. No, it's not like Ista and its beaches, which Iesaryth certainly seems fond enough of - though that might be only due to her rider's less-than-warm reception where the other gold hatched. Or you know, the gold just likes beaches; they're close enough to the sea-salt breezes and endless tides of her mind that she might have an affinity. And unsurprisingly, while Hraedhyth's attention is unwavering, the younger gold doesn't seem to have the same interest - or perhaps her interests are scattered, like so many streams finding their way into the cracks and crevices of the Weyr. Her rider shows similar lack of interest in the proceedings thus far; she enters with Azaylia, but she's not carrying anything - and bypasses the table entirely while the other woman sets the mugs down in favor of the drink cart. Brieli isn't bothering with klah, not this late in the day, and not with questioning ahead. Yay. There's very little that's subtle about Reisoth himself but he's accepted Hraedhyth's scrutiny with neither complaint nor saying anything particularly insulting to spark her ire. So far. Relaying messages is beneath him but he manages anyway. Which brings H'vier to the Council Chambers in short order, wearing a jacket and a thin scarf that the locals might not deem necessary quite yet in the year. "Weyrwomen," greets the large bronzerider, pausing to offer a brief salute. "H'vier. Rider of bronze Reisoth," he adds for formality's sake since they're obviously expecting him to be here. Azaylia might give a tsk as Brieli passes on her way towards the drink cart, but she's smiling as she does. With careful hands, she's in the middle of pouring when H'vier arrives, "Klah?" From the amount of steam, it's freshly made. It takes her a moment longer to get to the proper introductions, "Azaylia, gold Hraedhyth's." While not completely at ease, hospitality comes easy enough. "Please, have a seat?" It doesn't look as though she might take one herself. Picking a mug she brings it closer to where she's standing, the offered chair somewhere near both weyrwomen. With an eyeroll, "Better than staying up all night. Enough of that, thanks." Brieli's tone is dry as she pours herself out a drink, but it's not much of one. And though she doesn't seem all that enthused about hospitality, Azaylia's hesitation or discomfort seems to be enough to rouse something in her - even if it might only be pity. Turning to regard H'vier, glass in hand, she offers a lovely smile. "Evening. I'm Brieli. I'm quite certain we all know who one another's dragons are, yes? Given this interesting timing for a transfer. But let's sit. We're not accustomed to looking up, Azaylia and I." It's something of a joke; for a couple of young ladies, they do tower. She'll even take a seat herself, just to be a good example, crossing long legs at the ankle. The bronzerider hesitates just long enough to suggest he's not sure if he actually wants klah or not but H'vier nods in the end as he moves to take a seat somewhere that makes sense along the length of the meeting table, "Thanks." Since it's Brieli that takes up the bulk of the talking, H'vier's attention focuses on her for now, watching her sit with a long practiced neutrality. He could very well be leering in his mind. "Iesaryth," he says by way of unnecessary confirmation that he does, in fact, know the name of Brieli's dragon. He grins at her comment, crossing an ankle over his knee after he unfastens his jacket, "I imagine not." Following Brieli's lead, Azaylia is courteous enough to sit on the same side as to avoid giving H'vier whiplash. Not before setting a mug in front of him, of course. Her hands are folded atop the table and she leans forward, posture politely interested. "Interesting time." She echoes, thoughtful. It's not very tactful when she thinks to ask, "Why do you want to transfer to High Reaches?" She doesn't sound as if she's accusing him of anything, soft voice carrying a genuine note of curiosity. Watching over her glass as he sits, as Azaylia sits, Brieli's gaze is sharp and dark, only flickering over to her counterpart now and again. If she's the subject of any attention, neutral or otherwise, it's as if she's quite unaware of it. After a sip of whatever-the-hell-she's-drinking, tipping her glass H'vier's way with a quirk of lips for Iesaryth - so bright! - it widens into something of a smirk at the other goldrider's echo, her question. There's nothing she really feels she needs to add to that, apparently, since she just leans back in her chair. Just a small change in his expression at that question, the very briefest furrow in his brow before H'vier is reaching for the mug to take a careful drink. As he sets the mug back down, offers with a wry smile, "For the weather, obviously. The change in scenery is nice, actually." The last is slightly more serious but he continues before giving them too much time to dwell on the lack of any substantial response, "I could say it has nothing to do with the timing but..." Would they really believe him? "There's been tension. A fresh start somewhere new seemed like a not horrible idea." It's vague, sure, and he's not really looking at either of them when he says it, but when he's done, his gaze settles on Azaylia. Azaylia gives a soft laugh as he mentions the weather, though it might only bring up even more questions. Who leaves Istan sun for 'Reachian winters? She keeps up with her small smile while eyebrows pinch ever so slightly, letting his answer turn in her head. "So... you're here because you wanted a change of scenery, and to catch one of our golds?" A glance in Brieli's direction; does that sound about right? "Oh. And there was trouble at your old weyr." A mental note is made, though she's not aiming to pry at just what he might mean by tension. Brieli does not laugh, and her smile has faded as she regards evenly H'vier, then looks into her glass. Another sip. "If we transferred a rider for the weather, can you imagine what sort of thoughts might be confirmed in people's minds?" It's a rhetorical question, especially after: "Nothing good." Glancing Azaylia's way, she arches fine brows questioningly. What? Everything's fine. "Tension, yes." That comes on the heels of the other goldrider's last, drawn out and with sharp interest - she's certainly going to pry at the very least. "What would your current Weyrleaders say your reasons are for leaving? And if there is tension, why should we take Ista's..." Trash. "Leftovers." And she watches him. And waits. "Not exactly," H'vier begins to Azaylia with a patient smile but he pauses when Brieli starts and his good humor is fading somewhat more noticeably. "Tension and trouble aren't the same thing," he continues. The 'as you know' is left unsaid but still there. "You haven't asked them?" he returns to Brieli with his own arching brow. "I suspect they would say I requested to transfer after repeated differences with my wingleader. For a fresh start." He repeats that last sentiment and smiles again, this time more deliberate about it, before reaching for that mug for another drink. Even Azaylia's eyes fall on Brieli once the other goldrider speaks, blinking several times in mild surprise. And yet, not as much as one might expect. It doesn't seem as though she's rising to H'vier's defense, instead offering a smaller smile before clearing her throat. "You have to understand, we can't..." No, too negative. She tries again, "With everything that's happened I don't know if I feel comfortable accepting a transfer." The young woman is quick to add, "I mean, unless you were completely honest with the reason. And didn't plan on making any trouble with your wingleader here." Folded hands are brought up to support her chin, elbows on the table as she looks to both Brieli and H'vier. After finishing her drink, Brieli's own fine brows raise again, looking H'vier's way. "Do I have to? Iesaryth can bespeak Nidith or Ziseth... though I know tension isn't trouble, who wants to make anything any more... tense, yes?" It's not quite a threat, not if one has nothing to hide, at least. Leaning forward to set the glass aside and lean on the table, she follows Azaylia's explanation smoothly. "We have a certain amount of... stability to project, you understand. We can't afford trouble, as she says. So. If trouble isn't an issue and a fresh start is what you're after, let's see if this works: what's it worth to you?" She smiles, brilliantly. Let's make a deal. "The tension with my wingleader was business-related. Moving to a new wing wouldn't have helped very much, so here I am. There's no reason for that tension to follow me here." H'vier may not sound very happy about the fact that that means his business isn't really following him here but he does sound sincere. The last of what Brieli says makes the bronzerider return her smile, if not quite up to her brilliance. "What do you want?" "Unless you liked arguments, or getting into fights." Azaylia offers a reason, if only because she can. From someone else, it might sound as if the blame is being placed on H'vier. Instead, she's just making a statement. Both brows rise, silently echoing the bronzerider's question while hands tip, chin rolling to aim a curious look Brieli's way. What do they want? There's a narrowing of dark eyes, a glance towards the other goldrider, thoughtful - but Brieli does little but echo thoughtfully, "Business. Some of that going around." There's something under her breath about blueriders? That sounds suspiciously like 'heat score', but that doesn't make much sense. Quick to pick up on Azaylia's point, "Like Taikrin. Something to keep in mind." Continuing quite if the other goldrider is totally clued in to the plan, "I'm personally fond of unspecified favors, though I asked you what it's worth. But... think about it if you want. What's weighty enough. Until then, you could just owe us... something. Someday." With a little flutter of fingers, far away, in the future, nothing to worry about. If they're exchanging words that make sense to them, they don't seem to have any meaning to H'vier. Maybe a hint of recognition at the name but nothing more from the big bronzerider. "It's worth me being here. If I offer something that's important to me that you don't have any interest in, that's not very good business." His smile tightens slightly but it fades as he takes another drink and sets the mug down again. Owing favors might not be his most favorite thing ever. "Until then, weyrwoman," he repeats, more or less agreeably. Azaylia parts her lips, possibly to come to Taikrin's defense. It's not worth interrupting Brieli, and so she remains silently intrigued. When it sounds as though a deal has been struck, it's enough to bring a pleasantly surprised smile to her face. "It doesn't do any good unless you want to be here. That'd be bad for everyone." Leaning back in her seat, she is perhaps a bit too eager to consider things settled, "Please understand that it might take Hraedhyth some time before she... relaxes." H'vier's not even fully transferred yet, and already she's doing damage control. "I do have one more question." It's not as serious as it sounds as the weyrwoman gently asks, "What's your favorite snack?" It's not rhetorical. "Welcome to High Reaches, H'vier," Brieli offers, now all pleasant and hospitable. Look at that! "And good luck." With business, moving, owing favors - all of the above, quite possibly. And she's not so far from 'annoying teenager' that she won't look all too pleased with herself as she sweeps up her glass and rises to get a refill. "Let us know if you need anything." She turns mid-pour to look back at Azaylia curiously - what'd she miss? - before she just rolls her eyes a little and shakes her head, though there's a certain patience to the gesture. H'vier, despite whatever tensions Brieli has been inspiring in him, smiles somewhat more warmly at Azaylia. "I can't promise that Reisoth will help very much. He has no way with women." Unlike himself, obviously. The last question of Azaylia's makes him frown for a moment, though, clearly not expecting that of all things. He lets Brieli distract him from answering it right away even if he refrains from letting them know anything he needs already, "Thank you. Both of you." Then he refocuses more directly on Azaylia and offers, straight-faced, "Leftovers." Azaylia makes a bit of a face, though it's in good humor, "That might actually be a good thing?" He'll find out soon enough. Her long forgotten mug of klah has cooled by now, but it doesn't keep her from taking several sips. She pauses at his answer, looking at H'vier from the edge of her cup and is slow to set it down. "...Leftovers." In a sigh, "I suppose cookies and jerky will have to do." All will be explained, like when the Istan transfer receives the inevitable giftbasket sent to his new weyr. "You're welcome. I hope you come to love the Weyr as much as I have." With a small but happy smile she stands and seems content to end the interview here. That might be a cough from the corner. It might sound suspiciously like an abortive laugh, but Brieli is sober, stone-faced, drinking, yes. Rum. It's good stuff. They even have ice, up in the mountains. All of that also allows her to totally ignore anything about cookies or jerky. Something about Azaylia's comments make her quirk her lips again as she turns, but she doesn't quite smirk. She doesn't echo the other goldrider's words either though, just tilts her glass the bronzerider's way again. "Evening." And everyone can get back to business. Torturing other people. Whatever they get up to around here. |
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