Logs:No Fighting In This Weyr Young Lady!
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| RL Date: 25 February, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Taikrin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Immediately after Alida has been involved in an altercation in the hatching galleries, Taikrin intercepts her to put the proper fear back into her heart. |
| Where: Western Bowl, HRW |
| When: Day 3, Month 2, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of gray clouds hangs oppressively around the spires. The air is humid and cool, but there is no snowfall today. |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Wakizian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Follows immediately after Logs:The_Problem_with_Boreal |
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| The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries. Alida doesn't get far when she leaves the galleries. Word travels fast when there's an angry queen on the sands, and an angry brown dragon circling in the air. There are a pair of guards on their way to meet her, calm and collected, with strict orders about how The Weyrleader would like a word. More like 'the Weyrleader would like his pound of flesh.' And the stolid look of quiet resignation upon Alida's features speaks volumes of such, her gaze as dead as it can get. Whether those weyr guards are still here or not, the candidate IS. Taikrin doesn't run, but she does walk very fast, especially when under the shadow of those circling brown wings. The guards wait with Alida-- despite the fact that they've both got the knot of Glacier riders, they seem to be more or less in control of themselves and are content to wait while Alida remains likewise. Taikrin must have come from deep within the bowels of the Weyr, or else must be quite irritated, because her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is a bit heavy as she marches up to demand in a thickly Cromian accent, "Someone want to tell me what the flaming bloody shells is going on here?" Even before the weyr guards can try to speak, Alida is standing ramrod straight as Taikrin pound the stone of the Bowl beneath her feet, and answering the acting Weyrleader in a crisp, professional soldier's even tone. "I unintentionally disrupted the queens, Sir." Nothing could look more stony-faced right now than the Pars guard...except the ice and stone surrounding them all. "So I heard," Taikrin shoots back darkly. "That's the thing about dragons, ain't it? Word gets around real fast." There's a look for the guards, and maybe some of that silent communication, because the two riders retreat a moment later with a quiet, "Weyrleader." One of them is smirking, though he's trying to hide it. "Reckon you want to explain to me how, exactly, it came to be that you thought the galleries was a good place for fighting, candidate?" Alida says not a word, looks at the air between herself and Taikrin like a good little guard, her form still as straight and stiff as an iron bar...her face and eyes expressionless. When the Weyrleader finally inquires, the young woman with the quiet attitude rings off clearly, crisply, without hesitation, "Candidate Wakizian approached me, Sir. I was taking someone's advice and trying to be a little more social, Sir, so I reluctantly approached him when he invited me." Hardly a single break in her words stops them from falling from the Pars woman's lips. "I finally had enough of being social, and I tried stepping away, Sir, but Wakizian continued to engage me. I wanted to teach him a small lesson without harming him, Sir, and so I feinted a grab and punch at him to get him to leave me alone." There's recognition, a like-matching-like, in the martial way Taikrin is standing-- a captain hearing the report of her underling, perhaps, or the guard overseeing her prisoner? "Are you trying to accuse this-- Wakazian, is it?-- of being too forward? And that you acted in self-defense? Because this is a real serious accusation to make, candidate. Best be sure you mean it, because I don't suffer that kind of misbehavior from the boys in my Weyr." Hers. Maybe she can be forgiven the ghost of a smirk that curls her lips when she says it. For a nanosecond, there's a sudden hint of a sneer of disgust and anger lighting Alida's features, her livid green gaze, at Taikrin's words, but she just as quickly banishes that emotional reaction, and shakes her plaited head. "Negative, Sir. Candidate Wakizian was being a pest; a...an irritant. I prefer being left to my own devices most times, Sir. When he refused to take my hints to let me alone, I sought to drive him away." It's a wonder that Taikrin shouldn't have heard of the a-social bitch, by now...but the brownrider *has* been rather busy. "So it weren't self-defence, then. You got bored of him being around, and you thought maybe the best way to handle it was to punch him." It's not a question. "In my galleries. I don't know what the bloody shells you were thinking, but this is not how my candidates are going to behave if they want to get anywhere near my eggs. Ain't your weyrlingmasters told you about Amareth and how fragile eggs are?" Behind the sternness in her lecture, Taikrin's angrily-set lips are twitching. Is that good? Bad? Is she about to have a seizure? "Where are you from, candidate? What were you, before?" Waiting until Taikrin is done ranting, Alida finally answers back in deadpan alto, "I never was going to actually punch him, Sir. It was a pure feint." Beat. "No Sir, I wasn't told." Funny how word of dragons potentially being harmed brings a small glint of something to the palest-blonde's eyes for a long moment. "Pars Hold, Sir. Hold guard." No squirming from the testy femme. "I don't care what you lot do on your own time, so long as nobody's so bloodied they can't stand for the eggs. But I won't abide you stirring up the queens and risking the eggs." When Alida names her rank, the twitches in Taikrin's mouth even back down into a tight-lipped frown. "Why are you here, Pars Hold guard? I ain't getting the feeling you got a lot of respect for the dragons or the other candidates, and I ain't got time or inclination to deal with that." "I came here on a swift, small train, Sir... guard for a small package the Holder sent to someone. After I delivered it, I was ordered ta stay until the weather cleared up more, given the blizzards 'n such..." Alida raps off clearly, unwilling to look directly at Taikrin right now. At the brownrider's words of no respect, the woman finally DOES so, however, her pride and sense of fairness stung as greens meet the Weyrleader's gaze firmly. "I have deep respect for the dragons, Sir! I thought..." Swallow. "Thought that I was quiet, not disturbin' them." "So, what, you're just playing at being a candidate until the weather clears? Because I got to say, that ain't the best ever reason I ever heard." Taikrin's anger is mitigated, somewhat, by Alida's admission. Her spine, however, remains rigidly straight. "Quiet and fighting ain't usually weyrmates. So, candidate. Are you serious about this? 'Cause I ain't convinced. Pissing off the weyrwomen and their dragons ain't usually the way to go about getting one of their hatchlings." "I'm not the average guard in some ways, Sir..." Alida raps off, her gaze finally withdrawing from Taikrin's dark one, now hovering in the ether between them, once again. The rest is - perhaps surprising - easily answered. "I am serious, Sir," the young woman barks out like a boot to her DI, quickly snapping her trap shut about the following words that threaten to spill from mind to lips. Just shut the fuck UP. Something Alida says piques Taikrin's interest: she's looking at her now, really looking, with a measuring gaze. "Not the average guard? You going to tell me what that means?" Is this a test? There's a note in Taikrin's voice that implies such. Ohhh Nonononono. Alida knows that look, the tone, the question WAY too well to miss such, and once again the blonde is sweating internally while struggling to find a decent answer. What finally, and still truthfully, makes it out of her mouth is, "Sir, I feel that, no matter what answer I give, it will not please the Weyrleader." No shit. "It's a good thing the Weyrleader isn't looking for you to please her." Taikrin can't quite say that with a straight face, though it resumes solemn overtones a moment later. "You already made the Weyrleader's day flaming hard and I reckon Hraedhyth ain't going to have you back on the sands any time soon, so-- you may as well out with it." Ulp. Welllll...runner shit. That sentiment, mental though it is, skates across Alida's eyes for a moment before she masters herself, and finally clips off a gruff, "I'm a basically quiet person until I get angry, Sir. Most of the guards I've dealt with are...aren't a-social." Like the blonde, apparently. "I'm not buyable, either, Sir. I stick with good folk." Apparently, enough Guards she's interacted with can be a teensie bit...unethical. "Well shells girl, you got a temper? No!" Between the sharp sarcasm and her posture, Taikrin looks far taller than she really is. "I get it." Something's softened in her voice, though, and she doesn't look nearly as angry anymore-- at least not compared to the brown dragon who's settled on one of the nearby queen's ledges and begun to lash his tail. "Look. Here's how it's going to be. You're going to remember that I run my Weyr tight, and that right now you're at the bottom. Which means I don't want to hear another peep about you-- I reckon you might be the one B-- Weyrwoman Brieli was going on about, too. You're gonna go and apologize to Azaylia, and Brieli, and then you're going to do whatever they assign you to make up for it." She pauses then, nearly long enough for one to believe she might be done, then adds, "And if you're feeling the need to be punching, I reckon we should probably set up self-defense classes for you lot, anyways. Used to be a thing we did, back in the day. No more beating on people unless they beat on you first. Or it's all in fun. Are we clear?" What? A superior is appearing to be a little bit understanding? This is mostly weird behavior according to the book of Alida, and as such, the femme's left cheek twitches once, her greens once again boring into Taikrin's browns for a long moment, as if to suss out the reason behind such a look. And then the brownrider's talking again, invalidating any other actions besides standing there like a glacier and taking whatever comes. "Yes Sir!" is barked out crisply when the Weyrleader is finished, the blonde fairly thrumming even as she stands near-stock still. "Good." Taikrin manages to be mostly impassive when she meets Alida's stare, though there's an upward twitch of one thick eyebrow at the contact. "Reckon you ought to wait for Azaylia to leave the sands. I wouldn't head in there without orders if I were you. Now." All at once her expression hardens, and her voice drops half an octave. "Ain't you got somewhere to be, candidate?" What might be noticeable to someone used to such displays as Alida makes right now - to someone 'in the know' - is the fleeting look of learned mistrust that cycles like a chambered bullet within the guard's green eyes for a few moments...and quickly dissipates as she once again slams her gaze back into the air between them. "Yes, Sir!" is once again clipped off in concise alto, the candidate then snapping a very nice little salute before she pivots about and strides off towards the living caverns. Hopefully Brieli the vicious is around somewhere she can get to, in order that Alida can get this all over with sooner rather than later. Taikrin might notice Alida's look, or she might not-- she's stone-faced until the candidate turns around, at which point a smugly crooked little grin blossoms across her mouth. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 26 Feb 2013 08:47:13 GMT.
< Taikrin's tongue didn't fall out her mouth for half of that lecture!? (Aka, pot calling the kettle black.) Still, she's getting awfully good at this being bossy thing. ;) Doom.
Barnabas (Barnabas (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 28 Feb 2013 00:21:43 GMT.
<
Bones doesn't like this new Taikrin. Not one bit =(
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