Logs:One's Legacy
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| RL Date: 27 February, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, R'hin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Riders talk of their legacies, and what to do with an AWOL Lord Holder. |
| Where: Fort Coast, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Braeden/Mentions, Joremy/Mentions, Wulfan/Mentions, Astivan/Mentions |
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At the edge of the High Reaches mountain range, the bend of this coastline is rocky and barren. Cliffs overlook cold water that breaks constantly over rocks, constantly churning. A tree has grown at the very edge of the cliff, stripped bare and twisted as it struggles to survive amongst the rocks around it. Further south along this same coast, a small hold has been carved out, almost invisible from here. As the winter day starts to fade into winter evening, Lilah has abandoned all seeming interest in her search, her last hold so minor that they were barely more than one family and none of them were hiding Astivan, it seems. She hasn't even bothered to climb back on Eliyaveith, only taking a angry walk up the coast and settling at some point to watch the waves break against rocks. It is then that Eliyaveith passes along the invitation to Leiventh, a simple « She would like to see him. » There is an acknowledgement, along with the cold winds of Leiventh's thoughts that fades by measures. His arrival is not immediate, and when he appears it is at a low angle of the image taken from the queen's thoughts, a dark shadow against an evening turning dark. Touching down on the cliff, the gleam of the bronze's eyes shades into something pale as lids close, although his rumble in greeting to Eliyaveith suggests it is not for sleep. Sliding adroitly down the bronze's side, R'hin starts to unzip his flight jacket, gaze flickering around and taking stock of the surroundings before he makes his way to where Lilah is, pale eyes taking in her countenance. Underneath the flight jacket, the bronzerider is dressed plainly, clothing suitably non-descript enough to blend into most locales. "A dramatic, angry ocean, suitable to meet the mood of a dramatic, angry goldrider?" comes his amused voice. Concern is held in the lick of flames against Leiventh's mind as Eliyaveith reacts to that closing, worrying over something so small as she watches the bronze settle. "I will stop just shy of flinging myself into it," she offers by way of greeting, though there is a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips as dark eyes slide to find pale. "At least, for today. If we never find him--." She cuts herself off sharply, shaking her head. "That would be appreciated," R'hin says, dryly. "I've lost more goldriders than I care to count." There's a flippancy in his tone that belies the sudden tenseness of posture, gone just as swiftly as he rocks back onto his heels. His brows twitch upwards, and yet he doesn't ask which he she means; of course he knows. "Losing a Lord Holder so inept as yours seems to have become is hardly the worst thing to happen to you. In fact, it's the best. He has brothers, who have wives and children. Perhaps his replacement will be even more speedy than Wulfan's was." For a moment, R'hin's words hit a mark and manage to elicit some sense of regret from the junior weyrwoman for her words, but Lilah smoothly moves on to insist: "But he will have gotten away with it. Stealing from us and his own hold, and who knows how many others. He will get to fade into history as the man who was able to steal from the Weyr." Her fingers ball against her leather sleeves even as she thinks about it, gaze dropping back to narrow on the ocean briefly. "I wanted to do something about him months ago. Turns ago." If R'hin notices that regret, he lets it pass by uncommented on, pale eyes intent. "He will fade into history as a man who disappointed his own people, failed in his duties, and proved selfish enough to look after only himself. That, in itself, invalidates any harm he's done to the Weyr." With a shake of his head, the Reachian bronzerider says, "You oughn't take it personally, Lilah. You think finding him will somehow fix everything? Finding him is worse. How do you punish a Lord Holder? Do you think the Conclave would let you mete out justice to one of their own? No; you should look at this as a gift. If another's declared as Lord Holder in his absence, if you do ever find him, he will be their problem. And that is the best position for a Weyr to be in." "It is personal. It is our way of life, our future. You have heard the stories about Intervals. If we let this continue the way it has, at High Reaches, here-- half-way through this one, we'll starve to death," Lilah counters with an edge to her words; deadly serious, at least, in this. "The next one will be as bad as this one. His brothers are no better than he was." That, at least, gets an exhaled breath as she finally turns back to the bronzerider. "What would you do? If we find him, before the Conclave replaces him? Or after?" "It's not," R'hin says, sharply, breathing out slowly, voice more neutral as he continues, "You are making it personal, which makes you want to do something about him. Lilah -- he's not your problem. You don't think the Weyrs didn't want to intervene when Braeden declared Devaki his successor, or Wulfan Joremy? It doesn't work like that, and for good reason. There's thinking about the future, and there's destroying the things that make that future possible. If we interfere with the Holds, we would have no recourse to stop them interfering with us in turn. It protects them, yes, but it protects us, too. Our future." His brows twitch upwards, as if he thinks the answer should be obvious: "If I were to find him before... I'd bury him in a hole somewhere until a new Lord Holder were chosen. After... he'd be the new Lord Holder's problem." He's bland, yet certain in how he'd handle such a situation. Lilah's lips press in a flat line, twisting as if she would like to argue that point further. Yet, the goldrider doesn't, though the flint in dark eyes doesn't speak to agreement. "I hate Hold politics," is all she states, simply enough. "It would be better if we found him dead and didn't have to deal with any of it. Or if we had prevented this in the first place." She falls silent at that, at least for the moment as she sweeps a studying look over R'hin, really looking at him for the first time since he arrived. "None of us are prescient. As much as I like to make it seem like I am," he's chuckling, now, though it fades soon enough as R'hin rubs at the stubble over his chin. "It's almost better, this way. Any other... and it'd look like your Weyr muscling a Hold. Boll has defected to High Reaches before, and Crom to Telgar -- the precedent is there. Push them too hard, and... unfortunately, during an Interval, they're not short of options. I know you prefer," he's grinning at her now as she looks at him, lifting a hand to brush a thumb against her cheek, "To do. But sometimes, doing the right thing means standing back, and letting things happen. Letting go of control, as hard as it is. Watching it play out to its final, miserable end... then stepping in." Lilah's hand lifts to catch at his as it brushes against her cheek, but only to hold it there rather than seeing it drop away. There is a reflection of a smile at his assessment of her, even as she answers, "Oh, you're not, are you? Well, then why do I ever listen to you?" She pauses before continuing more seriously, "If the Weyrs were bonded together and if they had nowhere to defect--. We have the same goal, to preserve our Weyrs till Pass, and we have the dragons. Then perhaps we wouldn't have to push the holds, they would do their duty by us." "Because I'm charming, handsome and," with a sudden grin, "Erudite. Frankly, it's hard not to do everything I say." R'hin's eyes narrow speculatively, as he says, "I think you should take off all your clothes." Nevermind it's freezing, it's worth a try. His teasing grin fades, however, at her latter words, soberly serious all of a sudden, his hand dropping free of her. "Weyrs banding together is... unlikely. If your Weyr was suffering and you had a chance to make it easier by taking tithe from another Hold, would you let your people starve, in the same of solidarity? Could you be sure that every other Weyr would?" He shakes his head, as if the answer is obvious. "In a perfect world, perhaps -- but it is not perfect. Weyrleaders are taught to lead, to protect, and to do their best by their people, and they make sacrifices and decisions to do so. After a while, there's too much history, too much distrust, and too much to lose." "If you take me somewhere warm," Lilah promises, though she makes no move to leave from her little cliff towards the waiting dragons. Especially not where R'hin turns sober. "Yes," she promises again. "Because our responsibility isn't only to our own Weyrs. It's to ensuring that dragonriders are ready to meet Thread, whenever it falls. If the world were perfect..." A soft sound escapes her lips, agreement there as she watches the bronzerider. "Maybe, one day. After all, look what Igen did for your Weyr." There's a brief, considering look, but her latter words precludes any answer to that. "Yes, look at what Igen did," R'hin echoes, but it's not said in the same positive tone that she uses. After a beat, he says with a distinct frown, "The last thing we need is another Fax. But, too, the other last thing we need is another F'lar or Lessa, ruling all the Weyrs." He takes a breath; there's an odd intentness to the way he speaks, as if this is a position he's long believed in: "The harpers talk about the salvation of Pern, but a lot was lost then, too. Autonomy brings variety, strength and most importantly independence. Independence breeds new ideas, new ways of doing things, new ways to approach those same old problems." Lilah's brows curve upwards at that answer, held there as she points out, "What Lessa did for Pern was extraordinary. She did what she had to do and saved the world in doing so. That she didn't let the Oldtimers walk over her, that she controlled what she needed to control--." She shakes her head, dismissing it even before she pushes back a stray, windblown lock from her face. "Autonomy makes us slow to respond, it makes us competitive, and it takes our focus away from the same real problems." "There are two sides to every story," R'hin counters. "The Oldtimers left their lives, the people they knew, their whole world, as a sacrifice to save a Pern that, in turn, turned their back on them. They were fighters -- had fought Thread their whole life, and their expertise mattered. That saved Pern. Yes, Lessa did what she needed. Some might say more than she needed. But.." with a spread of hands, "The harpers decide which story holds more weight, no?" With a dry laugh, as he folds his arms behind his back: "There's nothing wrong with competition. It is the foundation on which the Weyrs are built." It must be that Lilah is out of points of her own, because she states flatly, "If you say so." Her arms slide across her midsection, crossing there as she stares for the moment at the bronzerider before turning back to the ocean. "I would hope, though, that one day the harpers speak of me the same way they speak of Lessa or Moreta or-- Any other number of Weyrwomen." "I do, and," he steps forward, leaning to murmur to her ear, "I'm always right." R'hin's laughter is familiar tease, not fading even if there's a surprised look at her words. "You want to be a Lessa or Moreta? That... to be thought of in that way, there has to be something, an event so devastating as to mobilize all of Pern. I wouldn't wish that on you, not even should you fade into the spectrum of time as merely Lilah." "I don't want that," Lilah states immediately, not turning to catch that surprise in R'hin's expression, yet. "But to do something meaningful, something lasting? I know we're not supposed to say it, that we're supposed to be some selfless image of duty to our Weyrs, but what leader doesn't want to be remembered like that?" Then she turns, shifting into the bronzerider, off-handedly adding, "You know, I am beginning to think you are not always right." "You're far too young to be so concerned about your legacy," R'hin murmurs, with a twitch of lips. "Often... what we do has meaning in the lives of people we talk to, we interact with. Not everyone can be a Lessa or Moreta... and thank fuck for that. Can you imagine the amount of brown nosing they'd have to deal with? Could you stand day after day of, Lilah, tell me about the time when you met that handsome bronzerider?, or, Lilah, tell us about the time you singlehandedly saved all of Pern? Booooring," he's rolling his eyes, exaggeratedly, despite the low-throated chuckle that accompanies it. It's her latter that makes him gasp and press a hand to his chest: "No! Say it isn't so!" "I'd have to meet a handsome bronzerider first," Lilah continues with a warm teasing to her words, tension slowly softening even as a smile tugs at her lips. She does remember to add, firmly, "I am not that young. Old enough to want to have a legacy and a family." R'hin makes a noise at the back of his throat, "You wound me," he says, "You know, some day, you're going to meet some bronzerider that won't know you're totally lying, and you'll crush his heart for life. Ought to be careful. Red heads are always trouble." Chuckling now, he glances over his shoulder a moment, at the dragons, "Eliyaveith's what... barely three, and you're worried about family and a legacy? Life's not that short, and there's something to be said for taking the time to enjoy it." Lilah's lips continue to hold that smile, even as she counters carelessly, quietly, "Maybe I do not want to meet another bronzerider." Her gaze trails his, first to Eliyaveith and then to Leiventh and then back again. "Almost three. Old enough to rise again, if she takes after her dam. But I am almost 27, which is old enough." "Oh, you can never become Lilah-the-great with that attitude. Lessa wouldn't be Lessa without F'lar, hm? There's still time to find him," R'hin's chuckling, pale eyes amused. "Twenty-seven is not old. Not unless your idea of being remembered involves an early death, and we've already agreed that is not happening, right?" he lifts a finger and waggles it in her direction, as if in warning. One of Lilah's eyebrows lifts sharply at that statement, answering firmly, "Lessa would definitely sill be Lessa without F'lar. She did all the work, he just took the credit." She reaches out to catch that waggling finger, using it to try to pull him closer if successful for all that a finger isn't great leverage. "Ok, perhaps you're right. Maybe. Now, let's talk about your legacy, since you are old." With a quick shake of his head, R'hin says: "She wouldn't have impressed her queen, without him. She'd have been ruling Ruatha, instead, not leading the Weyrs." While that tugging isn't done with all that much force, he does step forward, even if he's chuckling at her question. "I'm quite content with my legacy. I've no wish to sung of in harper's songs, nor my name whispered for good or ill after I'm gone." "No? You don't want harpers singing of your handsomeness?" Lilah questions, her lips curving into a subtle smile. "Isn't it fated, who the dragons choose? Perhaps she still would have made her way to find Ramoth, even without F'lar. F'lar was just an easier path." "I don't believe that," R'hin says, firmly, of fate. "Could a dragon Impress to someone miles away? Could the last queen on Pern have died, or would she have chosen another suitable candidate?" He shakes his head. "There are far too many coincidences that would have to occur for every Impression to be solely for one person on all of Pern. Perhaps Leiventh, if he'd Impressed to another, would be different. Perhaps he'd be more open, less..." he trails off, and doesn't even bother to pretend to finish the sentence, shrugging. "Less like you?" prompts Lilah in a quiet murmur, even as she reaches to twine fingers into R'hin's jacket as if she could stop him from moving away if he wanted to. "I've always wondered if we are reflections of them, or they are reflections of us." R'hin's not looking at her, instead he's glancing over his shoulder at the dragons. "Does it matter, when you share minds? Whether it is one or the other? It isn't like any of it could be untangled to know," Lilah replies, her own gaze lingering on him, even where he doesn't look at her. She certainly takes advantage of it to study him. There's a tightness of jaw to suggest it does matter to R'hin, even if he passes it off lightly enough in the moments that follow: "Perhaps she will be your legacy. The great Eliyaveith, and whoever her rider was. Outshone by your own dragon," there's a teasing note to that. Lilah counters dismissively, "Now you're just being mean about it." She moves to draw away at that tightness of R'hin's jaw, giving him a breath of space between them. "Poor Faranth's rider," R'hin murmurs, gaze going skyward for a moment. He doesn't try to stop her when she draws away, and yet after a moment, he says, "I have a yearning for somewhere warm, I think." He's zipping up his flight jacket, turning back towards Leiventh. The bronze already has a place in mind that filters through the cold winds of his thoughts to the Fortian queen: a sunny, isolated beach, blue waters under clear blue skies. A laugh escapes from Lilah's lips at that particular reminder, or perhaps at the next statement. "Whatever you say," she agrees warmly, her own steps taking her in a slightly deviated path towards Eliyaveith even as she rumbles with a soft appreciation for sun and warmth and beaches. |
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