Logs:Playing With Rocks
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| RL Date: 20 November, 2009 |
| Who: Cadejoth, K'del, Yyth, Zahriel |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del and Zahriel reach an understanding on the boulder switch; Cadejoth delivers the message to Yyth. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 4, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| It's evening, about two sevendays after Zahriel arrived at the weyr, when a messenger comes seeking him to request his presence in the Weyrleader's Weyr. Said messenger will lead him there, taking a quieter route through the back caverns and then the records room, as though not being seen is some kind of bonus. Inside K'del's weyr, though, there's no cloak-and-dagger: the young Weyrleader sits on his couch, shoes off, a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a stack of reports spread out on the coffee table for perusing. The weyr is brightly lit, and warm, despite the evening chill of early spring. Zahriel follows the messenger in, looking somewhere between intregued and apprehensive. As he steps into the room, he pauses briefly in the entrance to take stock of his surroundings, lips pursing in a soundless whisper. Then his gaze falls upon the bronzerider, and his shoulders stiffen slightly, chin jerking up before he self-consciously clears his throat. "Weyrleader. Sir, you sent for me?" The journeyman's manner is as taut as his form, and he tucks his hands behind his back, perhaps in an effort to steady himself. K'del dismisses his weyrbrat messenger with a wave of a hand and a, "Thanks, Rubrin," and the pre-teen excuses himself, leaving Journeyman and Weyrleader alone. K'del's gaze lingers on Zahriel for a thoughtful moment, and then he waves him forward, indicating the empty chairs and the other end of the couch. "It's Zahriel, isn't it? Journeyman Zahriel. And it's K'del." He puts a slight emphasis on the name, encouraging use of it rather than any particular title. "Been meaning to talk to you-- make yourself at home? Drink or something? Klah, whiskey, something else?" Zahriel doesn't seem to take K'del's easy manner as comforting, though he doesn't stiffen any more. Then again, he may not be able to, tense as he is. "Yes, sir," the journeyman replies. "Zare, if you prefer." He slides over to one of the offered chairs and settles into it, back straight, hands clasped in his lap, though it appears his fingers are curled around something. "I'm fine, thank you. How may I... ah..." He frowns down at his hands, clearly searching for the words. "Ah, help you?" he finishes lamely. The tension seems to frustrate K'del, because his mouth opens as though he's about to insist on something, in the wake of the Miner's response; ultimately, though, he gives it up, merely shaking his head. He sets down his glass and pushes aside his papers, leaning back in his seat. "Zare, then. P'ax talked to you about our little problem, yes?" he says, finally, running the fingers of one hand through his short-cropped curls. "Guess I just want to..." He doesn't finish the sentence, though his forward head bob seems to imply the rest of it: 'make sure it's okay' is probably a good approximation. "And to apologise for dropping you into this on your arrival like that." And just like that, the tension seems to slide from Zahriel. Apparently, he was anticipating something different. His hands unfold, a small, smooth stone appearing in his fingers, sliding through them in a reflexive, repetative way. "Yes, he did," the miner replies. Hazel eyes flick up, studying the bronzerider's face thoughtfully for a long, quiet moment. "This is why my masters sent me, after all. I do prefer to just dive in." And the smile that lights his face holds pure amusement. It seems to take K'del a moment or two to catch up with this sudden shift in attitude; as it sinks in, though, a smile brightens his expression, both hands dropping carelessly towards his thighs. "Ah," he says, sounding relieved. "Good. Good!" His pause after that is brief, but significant, his own gaze studying the miner in return until he says, "You understand, of course, that it is not the weyr's intention to cheat anyone. That this is... a solution that would seem to suit everyone: a wall for the holder, useful rocks for the miners, good relations - and some monetary bonus - for the weyr." He sounds hopeful, somehow, even desperate that this be understood. Zahriel bounces out of his chair, seemingly unable to stand still. He begins to pace, idly flipping the stone in his right hand. "With all due respect, sir.. K'del... That is not my business." Though his face is set in serious lines, his eyes sparkle with laughter as they meet the bronzerider's. "I do not presume to judge you, and I believe that if your purposes were counter the Hall's, I would not be here. I certainly do not take issue with this arrangement - but perhaps I might expand. I'll remind you that the Minecraft has a crafthall, and many interests, in Crom's lands. And while I am based out of Telgar proper and have little to do with the other Halls, well." Well indeed. K'del is silent as Zahriel speaks, though his gaze follows without delay as the miner rises from his seat and begins to pace. His features draw together in visible thought, his front teeth coming to rest upon his lower lip, and then, finally, he nods. "What you're saying is that there's no problem with this arrangement, but that politically, it would be better that the Minecraft keeps itself out of the... particulars." He's obviously piecing this together as he speaks, though the expression on his face as he finishes is comfortable, even confident. "Which is understandable." "Officially, the Minecraft would be hard-pressed to condone such sophistry. If they knew about it. I am their representative here, and I have been charged by my masters to use my good sense in evaluating the situation and to offer my aid in any capacity that the Weyr deems necessary." Zare's bland hazel eyes meet the Weyrleader's, without so much as a smirk on his too-innocent face. "If the Weyr tells me this is what is necessary to resolve this issue for the good of all involved, it is my duty as a Journeyman of my craft to accept what I am told." Suddenly he grins. "Anyway, it lets me play with rocks. I'm all for anything that lets me play with rocks." "You minecrafters!" That's said with a laugh, breaking K'del away from the seriousness he's been displaying throughout most of the meeting. He seems absolutely relieved, and entirely more comfortable, now that it's come to this. "In that case... I'll leave all this to you and P'ax. Let you play with rocks, let him do likewise - he seems to like them - and I'll provide any more riders you need for the transport side of things." He reaches for his glass again, though before he manages to curl his fingers around it, he adds, "Welcome to the Reaches, anyway. Hope you'll be happy here, for as long as you end up staying." "I am here until you need me no longer," Zare remarks, flipping the worry-stone one last time before tucking it into a pocket. "I only hope that this can be finished with a minimum of fuss... and repricussions. I've some authority on my own, and I have a feeling my masters are... aware... of things, but I cannot endanger the crafthall, or our relations with Crom." Zare grimmaces and shakes his head. "The Crom hall and mineholds have little good to say about... things, but they are very important to us, Cromcoal is... very lucrative for the Hall, and I'd never hear the end of it if I endangered our interests." Smoothly, "I understand." And K'del does seem to, if his expression is anything to go by: it's turned serious again, if not outright solemn. "Believe me, High Reaches in no way wishes to endanger the Minecraft's relations with anyone; it would be against our best interests, as well, as you can imagine. I promise discretion: this will be known about only by the barest minimum of people, and /if/ any suggestion of it gets out, I will personally make sure that the minecraft is not implicated in any way." His hand withdraws from his glass, and returns to his lap; he turns his attention directly back towards Zahriel. "As a whole, all the weyr will know is that Holder Browden got his wall." A single tendril of silvered chain sneaks out towards you, a message buzzing its way up the wire under cover of darkness: shhh. « Yyth, » he greets, a single, sighing exclamation of her name before more prosaic business gets under way. « K'del says to tell yours that the Minecrafter is on board. It must be done at night, and with as few people as possible knowing anything. You and the Minecrafter can work out the logistics. » A pause, and then, « And it needs to be done soon, as soon as possible. » (Cadejoth to Yyth) To Cadejoth, Yyth sighs. Always the messenger. The reaction to him is instantaneous, curling bits of herself in between the links of his chains while she relays this to her rider. And then: « He agrees. He says he will need dragons -- big ones -- and crates and rope, too. Who does yours trust? » Another pause. « He says we are ready as soon as we have these things. » Zahriel regards K'del steadily for a moment, his own laughter stilled by the serious turn of the conversation. "I believe you," he replies gravely. "Though, I will say, if word does get out, I have no doubt in my mind the Minecraft will take all steps necessary to disavow any knowledge of or collusion with the Weyr's actions." Briefly, the young man's jaw tightens at that thought - for certainly, that would be the end of his career, but then he shrugs, his smile returning. "Still, it is unnecessary to dwell on such things, for I know that I, and my craft, can depend on the discretion of you and your riders. And anyway. Rocks. Big rocks. Shiny rocks. I'm looking forward to it." More tendrils of chain creep their way around Yyth, separate to that one that conveys this most private of conversations between one rider and the other. His fondness is in his silence, in the gentle touch of those chains; his words are all business. « He will have them, » is the promise K'del makes. « They'll be organised. Dragons, and crates, and rope. We'll let you know. » (Cadejoth to Yyth) "As they would be right to do," agrees K'del, though not without a caught breath; he, too, must be aware of the potential consequences for Zahriel. "And as we would support. These are our actions, not yours." His gaze meets the miner's squarely, though there's the faintest forward inclination of his head, marking something unspoken: appreciation? Something else? "As you can, yes. Right. Of course." The formality drains from his words as he adds in this, his expression softening again, though not entirely. "Good. I'm glad. Hope they prove to be as useful and interesting as... well. You know." He pushes a loose curl away from his face again, looking briefly as young as he really is; then, more firmly, "Cadejoth's told Yyth that we're going ahead. So... I will leave it to the two of you. Happy... mining, I guess." To Cadejoth, Yyth basks in it, that fondness, content to drift back to a half-sleepy state. « He agrees. He will speak with the Miner. » To Yyth, Cadejoth is visibly pleased with that basking, and leaves his presence as it is - connected, chains smooth and binding, but not intended to curtail anything: soft, somehow, all the while. « Good, » he adds. « Then it will all be good. » Zahriel's shoulder twitches in a barely perceptable shrug. "I feel the reward outweighs the risk, sir," comes the quiet rejoinder. "I have.. faith.. that whatever happens, it will all work out in the end." Here the journeyman chuckles, shrugging again. "Then again, as I am often told, I am too optimistic for my own good at times. But, there is no point inn worrying now." Taking the dismissal for what it is, the miner offers a sharp salute. "I will try to meet with P'ax soon and see what ideas are bouncing about in his head. Farewell, K'del." He backs up a step or two, then turns towards the entrance to the weyr. A quiet smile, and another bob of the head, mark K'del's response to Zahriel's words. "Glad to hear it," he says, genuinely. "And I share your optimism. Think it's going to be worth it. Think--" He breaks off to shrug his shoulders, rising to his feet as the Miner begins to depart. "Appreciate it, Journeyman Zahriel. Really do. Have a good night." He rests one hand upon the back of the couch, watching the miner depart, his expression, aside from that thin little smile, more measured than openly happy. |
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