Logs:Newcomers Bearing Advice
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 18 April, 2009 |
| Who: C'sel, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del needs to learn to stop blabbing everything to strangers, though C'sel has some good advice for him, and the offer of a drink. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 7, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| It's early evening, the sun having only recently finished setting, and much of the weyr is gravitating towards the Living Caverns for the evening meal. K'del is slower than most, appearing upon the ledge of the Weyrleader's Complex and then ambling down the stairs at a snail's pace. Although his steps move vaguely in the direction of the caverns, they falter part-way there, bringing him to a careful stop still some distance away, as a large group of riders - among them, B'ren, Hailstorm's Wingleader. The young man hesitates, glancing around as though he intends to high-tail it in a different direction. Corvinth is a shadow in the shadows and C'sel just a shape along his side, the brownrider leaning there comfortably, braiding together narrow strips of leather into a lanyard. His blue-eyed gaze lifts as K'del passes by, comes to a halt. C'sel is silent for a moment then takes a breath: "It can be daunting," he says in a low, mild voice. K'del doesn't /outright/ jump, at being spoken to, but his head flicks around rapidly, eyes considering C'sel with open, and thoughtful, surprise. "Didn't see you there," he says, in a tone that makes it almost, but not quite, an apology. "It - yeah. And B'ren seems to think he's going to pull all my strings for me, power behind the knot, you know?" He says this quite openly, albeit with a note of bitterness and frustration. Then: "Sorry. Shouldn't probably say that." And, you know: hi. Only he doesn't actually say that. "Corvinth is quite dark," C'sel agrees with the lack of being seen, fingers still twisting mostly by feel through those strands of leather. "Hailstorm's wingleader, correct?" the brownrider inquires, gaze lifting back towards K'del's face, his own largely impassive, his voice even and measured in quality. "I assume that you ... object to any such idea. I cannot think that anyone would prefer to be a puppet to another," he continues. Perhaps unseen in the dark, his shoulders roll in a shrug. "I am perhaps, safer to say such things to than others. I am only recently arrived, as new almost as you in my position which has yet, in fact, to truly begin as it hinges on eggs being laid and hatching." C'sel steps away from Corvinth's side then, the brown letting out a low cawing sound as his rider extends a hand towards the Weyrleader. "C'sel, brown Corvinth's formerly of Igen. Well met, sir." K'del expels a long breath and nods, though it, too, might be hard to see through the darkness; he accepts the relative safety of the brownrider without further question, expanding his words to say, "Hailstorm, right. And - exactly. Sure, I mean, I want /help/, and /guidance/, and whatever. But I'm not going to blindly do what someone tells me to do, either." He extends his hand to shake C'vel's; his grip is firm, and, closer-up, his expression has turned more friendly. "Welcome to the Reaches, C'sel. I'm-- but you know that. K'del. You can call me K'del, though. Guess it's good timing, you arriving now. With eggs on their way." "Wise of you," C'sel notes, voice as light as his voice gets maybe, his enunciation careful. "K'del," C'sel echoes simply and inclines his head once politely, blue eyes lingering for a moment on the Weyrleader's youthful features. "Some might argue otherwise," the brownrider says neutrally. "I asked for my transfer just before the -- change of leadership," he continues, hand falling back to his side. "It was however, always my intent to seek to assist the Weyrlingmaster." K'del must surely be aware of how young he looks, and it shows in the blandness of his expression as C'sel's gaze lingers upon him, though at the same time, he draws back his shoulders, straightening to his full height. "Hope so," he says of being wise, and sounding, despite himself, very young in the process. "B'sil's being helpful, though, at least. Good at the politics stuff, always offering advice, but not - shoving it down my throat, I guess." He draws his hands into his pockets, letting them hang there loosely, then adds, "People'll always argue one thing or another, I guess. But. Still. We're glad to have you." "I'm pleased to hear that you do in fact, have worthy advisors," C'sel remarks. "Certainly, Weyrleader is never an easy position for ... anyone to occupy," the brownrider continues, word choices made carefully. His gaze lingers once more on K'del's face and his head inclines slightly. "Perhaps. And my thanks to you. A warm welcome is appreciated." "So's most of the rest of the weyr, I imagine," says K'del, ruefully, though smiling pleasantly enough as he does so. Which doesn't stop him from nodding most vehemently at how not easy the Weyrleaer thing is. "Right. And especially not for me. Given the givens." At least he's honest about that. Stretching out his shoulders, he adds, "Of course. Admittedly, guess it's a little late, now, since I guess you've been here a little while, but - still." C'sel finishes tying off the end of the lanyard now he's got both hands back and slips the object into his pocket. "If the know," the brownrider says slowly still, blue eyes just a little intent on K'del's face. Something like humor flickers across his face, swiftly gone. "You do have ... quite the set of gives to contend with it would seem." A negligible movement of C'sel's shoulders follows that last. "Good enough. I will consider your duty as Weyrleader to a newer rider ... discharged." Was that a joke? "Think I should show up to things /with/ B'sil, to make people believe I have someone helping me out?" The idea doesn't seem to have occurred to K'del until now, and he gives it some obvious thought. "Huh." He lets go of another long breath, nodding once more. "Do. But I'll get there, right? Got to. Weyr needs me to." If C'sel's last comment was a joke, the young rider doesn't seem to pick up on it, because, though he looks a little confused, he grins. "Oh, good. Good. Easy. You settling in okay, then?" "Depends. Don't also want to give the idea of ... those strings you were talking about," C'sel says, eyes narrowing just a touch. "But perhaps, perhaps it could ... relieve you a little of your B'ren problem." His chin drops a little and his gaze takes on a touch of meaning though otherwise doesn't shift much. "Certainly, it does. Need you to." There's an audible pause before the brownrider forges on. "I'm ... sure you'll do your best." A touch of awkwardness colors his voice perhaps for the presumption. Maybe moving in is a safer thing. "We have settled quite well, thank you. Our weyr is comfortable the view is excellent and Corvinth is very pleased with the views." K'del chews over these ideas, giving a slow nod. "Right. Forging the balance between the two." His head tilts to the side as he considers C'sel, though his cheeks go faintly pink, visible even through the darkness, his lips pulled together awkwardly. "Right. Yeah. I will. I /am/. Just going to take a little time. Least we haven't had any crises yet, right?" He, too, seems happier to talk about the more mundane, hurrying to respond, "I'm glad. That's good. Know it must be a big change, but - well. I hope if you do have any concerns or problems, you'll ask. Sure you will." Again, C'sel nods just once, no movement of his face to betray noticing that pink. "Of course, all lessons take time to penetrate fully," the brownrider says quietly. "And I will join you in relief at the lack of crisis mode. Though sometimes ... necessity breeds ability." The brownrider's head tilts up to the sky a little taking in sligtly unfamiliar stars. "It is indeed, a big change, though if one goes back far enough, I am from Nabol." K'del's fingers, dug deep within his pockets, play uneasily with the fabric, a movement that is visible against his legs. "Right." And: "Right. Yes. Suppose. Guess I'd like a little time to get mildly used to things first, though. Before anything too major happens. Tiriana's still - settling. Also. So." The words tumble out uncomfortably, something he seems well aware of, given his expression. "Nabol! How'd you end up at Igen, then? That's - quite a change. Nabol's a nice place. I'm from Tillek, myself. Around Tillek, anyway." "Chains of events unfortunately, do not always oblige us by waiting," C'sel says, voice rasping a little. "The Comet Pass was not so obliging," he notes softly. "But I will wish you clear sailing and clear skies for a little while, K'del." It's a sincere wish, a slight intensifying of the expression in his eyes accompanying that statement. But. Nabol. "I was apprenticed to the Beastcraft," C'sel explains simply and Searched from there immediately prior to taking my journeyman's exams." A pause. "Nabol, has many fruit trees and many people who look after the fruit trees." K'del's expression twitches slightly at mention of the Comet Pass, and then, slowly, he nods. "True. Life - tends to be like that. I suppose. But thank you. I appreciate the thought." His consideration of the brownrider doesn't waver, though his shoulders relax a little. "/Beastcraft/. Right. But - just before your exams? That's rough. So close, and then straight back to being... bottom of the ladder, I guess. Went to Nabol when I was a candidate, to pick apples. Not my favourite fruit, but still - it was pretty enough. We had grapes, at home. As far as the eye could see, almost." A nod, no more to acknowledge that thanks. And then brows lifting a little. "I -- did not think of it that way," C'sel says low-voiced. "Yes, it was frustrating to be so close and not able to continue, but the ladder was not really --" he shakes his head again. "My father is a tree-tender. I grew up with ... all of those fruits. Apples. Pears." "Not really?" Despite C'sel's headshake, K'del seems intrigued by this, admitting, "Not sure I could've given up all that work, even for the possibility of Impression. Not, mind you, that I ever even really considered Apprenticing. Suppose that makes it hard to judge." Despite his question, he continues on undaunted, to note, "Pears are good. Always liked a good pear. You still like all that fruit? I got sick of grapes, and wine, pretty quick." "I considered it my duty, to accept," C'sel replies tone even. "I did not expect to Impress. I expected to return to complete my exams and advance in my chosen craft." The question about the fruit earns a tiny pull in the corner of the brownrider's mouth. "I am more inclined towards the fruits that come in tithe to Igen. Citrus ..." K'del's mouth forms the word - duty - though he does not repeat it outloud. "Never thought of it that way. But. Suppose it is. Particularly," he adds, in a careful voice. "During Pass. Or the Comet Pass. Now - clutches being the size they are. Still. Sure you don't regret it, ultimately. Having Corvinth." The brownrider's tiny pull is matched, and exceeded, in K'del's grin, and resultant light chuckle. "Like I am more inclined towards beer. Probably just the way it is." "I Impressed during the Interval," C'sel corrects without any reproof in his voice. "I still considered it my duty, regardless of the then, lack of Thread." The brownrider's gaze slips over to shadowy Corvinth over there. "No ... no regrets," he says slowly and there's something lurking in his voice but it's not regret. Hard to put a finger on. "I do not drink alcohol much. But beer is tasty." K'del accepts this with a nod, his expression mildly apologetic despite the lack of reproof. "And it was. And is. I'm sure. It's important to keep that, even during Interval - to maintain that respect towards the weyr, I guess." He's clearly working this out for himself as he talks, leading to a distinctly rambling tone. He seems to pick up the not-regret, given the slight change to his expression, but he doesn't press on it, instead simply nodding. "No regrets. Good. Mm, beer is tasty. Just not in excess. Like most things, I suppose." "Indeed," C'sel says quietly about respect to the Weyr. "Perhaps I could -- buy you a mug sometime," the brownrider offers slowly, almost as if the idea isn't actually is own. "Excess is -- no. Not my preference." Something flickers in K'del's gaze, and in his smile. "I'd like that," he says, honestly, albeit quietly. "So long as I can buy you one, too. It'd be - I'd like that." He admits, a moment later, and not without a rueful note, "I'm still learning my limits. I'm not too good with it. But I definitely prefer to avoid the excess." "A man your size, probably should stop at the third or fourth ale and not take a fifth," C'sel offers a by-the-numbers approach. "Perhaps later this seven," he provides a timeframe too and straightens a little. "For now though, I must bid you good-night. Corvinth and I retire early." "Third or fourth," repeats K'del, seriously - and then he laughs. "I'll remember that. Thanks, C'sel." His head inclines quickly for the offer, and cheerfully adds, "Have Corvinth check with Cadejoth some time, maybe? Or I'll do likewise. Sometime this seven." After a moment more, he hastily bobs his head up and down, and smiles. "Good night, then, C'sel. And again - welcome to the Reaches." "You are entirely welcome, sir," C'sel answers with a nod that's deeper, more like a bow. He starts to retreat back towards the brown, lifts a hand briefly. "Good night, Weyrleader," he says respectfully, "and thank you again." With that the shadows swallow him up again and a moment later there's a rushing of dark wings and the shadow-shape of Corvinth slips up and away towards the Bowl wall to find his ledge. There's no change to K'del's expression with the 'sir', nor the 'weyrleader', though nor does he react in any other way to it. His last comment is evenly said, as he watches the brownrider go. "You're welcome." Then, slowly, he draws his shoulders back again, and moves off in the direction of the caverns. A late dinner it is. |
Leave A Comment