Logs:No More Mines, Meteors Or Me
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| RL Date: 18 January, 2010 |
| Who: K'del, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana and K'del exchanges notes, make plans and only butt heads a little bit. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 10, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'son/Mentions, Ezalea/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Zahriel/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. It's afternoon on the second day after the meteorite hit, another day that has been full of difficulties. K'del was out-weyr this morning, talking to holders, and then there was a meeting with Miners this afternoon-- and now, finally, he's settled down in the council chambers with a stack of notes and a distinctly tired expression. He stares at the pages in front of him. He shuts his eyes. He stares at the papers again. He sighs. While K'del deals more with the holders, Tiriana has been holding together the lower caverns, marshalling the headwoman's staff into order to keep everyone fed and taken care of, muting the shock of the last few days. The rubble's been combed through but not much hauled off yet; it's a daunting task that nobody seems eager to take care of. Tiriana is looking at least as tired as K'del as she trudges into the council rooms, sans papers, but with a lost, haggard expression to make up for that. The sound of footsteps drags K'del's gaze away from his papers; his expression doesn't change much on the identification of the Weyrwoman, just the addition of a tired twist of the lips, maybe intended as a greeting. "You look about the way I feel," he tells her, blankly. "Like every time I think it's enough, can't take any more of this, there's something more." Beat. "Whiskey?" The bottle's under the table, just near his chair leg, apparently, from the way he draws his chair back and leans forward to reach for it. "Always something," says Tiriana, not returning that not-quite-smile of his. She instead heads straight for a chair and sprawls into it bonelessly. "Whiskey," she confirms. Then, with a sigh of her own, "Don't even know what we're supposed to do now. It's like we can't win for losing." There are glasses, but they're all the way over on the sideboard, out of reach from where K'del's sitting, so he simply takes a swig from the bottle, then slide it down the table. "Right," he agrees, exhaling lengthily. "Actually... one good thing. I guess." Beat. "Miners'll pay for the damn meteor. Meteorite. Whatever. Help pay for some of the repairs, I guess. Good news for us and the holders." Not that this news makes him sound any less down. "Gee, now I feel loads better," Tiriana snaps as she reaches for the bottle. The anger doesn't last, though; she's too tired for that, and instead bolsters herself with a long drink of the whiskey. "Should get those rounded up as soon as we can, before the holders go screwing with them and lose us that little bit of money. Still can't imagine it being enough, though. Do we still have that miner that helped us with Crom's rocks? Maybe we can get some kind of appraisal first." K'del barely flinches as Tiriana snaps like that, and, perhaps more unusually, doesn't even seem to really pick up on what she's implying with the comment that follows. "It's on the list-- getting teams out, to get the meteor-things out of the way for people." He scratches at his hairline, though the motion ultimately turns into more of a rubbing of the forehead as he adds, "Zahriel. Or something like that. Think he's still here. I've got no idea how much they're worth to them, but it's-- something, I guess. We can all use the money right about now." "Yeah. Him," Tiriana confirms of the miner. That's all she's got, though, for now, so she takes another long drink. "If they can even do it in the first place. Nobody's ever built star stones. They've just... always been there. The Ancients, maybe--but we're not them." K'del lifts a hand, waving it vaguely towards - presumably - the bottle. He needs more. "May pay for all of it, and... you know, our descendents find out it doesn't even work in turns and turns." Moodily. Grumpily, even. "But what else can we do? Got to put something there. And clean up the bowl wall, if we can." He glowers at the papers in front of him, as if staring at them for long enough will make the whole thing disappear. "Going to have workers running through our bowl for ages." Generously, Tiriana slides the bottle back over to K'del. "Need a contract that says if they fuck it up and we get hit by Thread, we get all the money back. And two hundred years' worth of interest, too," she says. The idea of this makes her smirk, but more seriously, she adds, "Maybe they'll do it for a discount. You know, star stones and all. It's... prestigious. Right?" K'del 'catches' the bottle with his hand, grabbing it and going in immediately for a long swig. And a second. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "Makes sense to me." A firmer nod, this second one. "It's not just for us... the star stones are for /everyone/. It's important. But if it doesn't work... they'll /have/ to fix it. For nothing. Got to make sure of that. Good idea." "And make sure whoever's Weyrwoman then is enough of a hard-ass to hold them to it," adds Tiriana, with a snort. She's already leaning well across the table to grab the bottle back, as soon as he puts it down. "You're lucky, you know," she says then, as she focuses on getting another drink and not looking at him. "Get to walk away from all this shit." K'del's fingers have barely released the bottle before it's being dragged back; he returns the hand to the papers in front of him, splaying fingers as he glances uptwards to peer at Tiriana. "Huh?" is his eloquent comment. "'Get to walk away from all this shit'?" Tiriana takes a long swig, nods. "Soon as Iovniath goes up again. You're done, no more fucking around with miners, meteors, or me." Long pause from K'del. Then, "Unless he catches her again." Calm. "Even providing she was that dumb twice in a row--which she won't be," Tiriana counters, "why the hell would you want to?" K'del's eyes roll at Iovniath's dumbness (or not), but he's quick with his own counter argument. "Doesn't matter whether I'd want to or not. If Cadejoth wins, I'll do my duty." Beat. "Or maybe I just like the weyr. And the marks. And fucking you once every couple of turns." "So you'll just leave it up to chance." Tiriana lifts her brows, eyeing him now. Her hand stays curled around the bottle but she doesn't lift it for a drink just yet. "I could have her send him away, if we wanted. That would settle it all right well. --Though, that last might make all this shit worthwhile." Her smirk certainly seems to think so. He ignores her smirk, except for a falsely saccharine smile that's probably more than a little bit sarcastic - or would be if there were words to match it. "No," he says, of leaving it to chance. "No, we'll chase. Chase to win." He adds, then, giving her a thoughtful glance. "Of course, you could always step down. Ezalea'd manage. Be pretty good, even, I reckon." Tiriana snorts. "Good luck with that," she answers. "I wouldn't count on anybody getting stabbed this time around, though." Her head shakes, and she steals another sip, though a smaller one this time. "And do what with my life then? Move to Southern and laze on a beach? Sit by the fire and complain about all you young whippersnappers and we used to do things differently back in my day? I'd go /between/ first, like--." She does not bring herself to finish that sentence. A little, audible breath escapes K'del's mouth at that unfinished sentence. It hovers between them for a few seconds, before, finally he says, "Then you know how I feel. I don't want my-- one chance to do something important to be over before I'm twenty." He says it softly, and hesitantly, as though he expects it to be dismissed instantly, but can't help but say it anyway. "You get more than one chance," Tiriana points out, as though this part is obvious. "Lay low for a while, and everybody forgets you only got the spot because A'son stabbed himself, you lost us the Crom deal and made us look like asses, and now you were in charge when we destroyed the damn star stones. Be a wingleader for a while. Go to another Weyr and try your luck there. Fort, Ista--hell, go to Ierne; my daddy'd have fun with you." She shakes her head, fingers toying with the whiskey bottle. "There's options." K'del's expression is dubious. Distinctly dubious. "Eh," is his conclusion, finally, lacklustre and made with a shrugging of his shoulders. "We'll see." In the wake of that, he rises towards his feet, adding, "Got dinner plans, should go do something about that. But I'll get the workteams out to collect the meteorites soon. can deal with the proceeds," he means, distribute them, of course, "centrally, get it all done. Talk to that minecrafter, too. Have a good night, Tiriana." "Night," says Tiriana as he gets up to leave. She does not--and she keeps the liquor bottle, too. K'del hesitates for a moment, glancing at Tiriana thoughtfully, but all he says, finally, as he heads off towards the door is; "If you're planning on finishing that, go do it with R'uen." Finish the bottle. Not anything else. There's a long moment, as Tiriana pauses with her hand curled aroudn the neck of the bottle. She eyes it, then K'del. "Thanks," is all she says; but she does pack up to go home, too. |
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