Logs:Political Problem Solving
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 20 March, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin has a lot of problems. None of which Farideh can solve. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Rainy. |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Anatolia/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Zadkiel/Mentions |
  |
| The heavy, driving rain of this spring day that renders much of the Garden Patio Ledge inhospitable paired with the fact that it's mid-morning and most people are about other duties is likely the exact reason K'zin has chosen a well-sheltered table near the archway that leads into Snowasis as his brooding place. It's not inactive brooding though. He has pages in front of him and his writing implement touches them for a few words before there's the need to scribble out what's been written. He glares at the page as if it offends and then sighs, setting the pen down so he can crack his knuckles and sweep a wearied gaze around the ledge. A fast and furious dash across the bowl leads Farideh to the slippery steps of the patio, seeking shelter from the rain under the same overhang that the bronzerider is sitting. By the time she gets there, she's quite wet and dripping. Hair is plastered to her forehead and her sweater clings in an unappealing way, the latter of which she tries plucking away from her body, frowning in displeasure. It's that same frown that she settles on K'zin, eyeing first the man, then his brooding-work. "K'zin," she greets quietly, "How are you? Your--" Eyebrows lift, lips quirking. "Face doesn't look as bad as everyone says it does. H'vier didn't do quite as bad as he could, hm?" With his bruises now six days old, the swelling has mostly subsided. It gives K'zin license enough to say, "Should've seen it a few days ago," in answer to Farideh's supposition. "It could've been worse, I'm sure." The man takes a moment to look over her weathered state, "Join me for a hot klah?" He invites. "I'd be better if I could sort what to write in any of these sharding letters of apology. Somehow, I don't think 'Sorry H'vier broke my nose at your party' is going to cut it." There's an edge of humor in his voice, but he's frowning at the pages. It's a real problem for all that he can joke about it. "Wasn't hearing about it enough? That's all anyone is talking about, aside from the new candidates and that new candidate." His candidate. That guy from Igen. "I would love a hot klah, K'zin. That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me," the laundress agrees, with a becoming smile transforms her face from mopey to happy. "Whom are you writing them to? H'vier? Irianke?" Farideh pulls out one the chairs adjoining his and sits down, with a squish when her wet pants make contact with the seat. She winces, finally brushing away the bits of hair matted to her forehead. "Not H'vier. There's... other things with H'vier." K'zin gives the papers a dark look, like it's all their fault. "Irianke, K'del and Azaylia." The bronzerider shifts to stand. "I'll get our klahs," he'll be right back. It doesn't take long for him, though certainly long enough for Farideh to thumb through the sheets and see none of his drafts have promise, if she's so inclined. The steaming mug is set down in front of her before he retakes his seat. Don't mind if she do. Those sheets get the ultimate assessment, flipped through and sighed at, with appropriate scrunching of her nose when she finds something particularly unsuitable. Farideh doesn't pretend that she hasn't been looking at his letters when he does return, but taps the top one with her pointer finger, her eyes flying to his face. "These are horrible. Have you ever written a letter?" But her expression already reads that she's unconvinced, her fingers straying to wrap, comfortingly, around the steaming klah mug. "Lots," K'zin answers as he lifts his mug to test just how hot the drink is. Answer? It's hot. Hot enough to have him jerk back from it just a bit and let the mug return to the table. "Actually, I specialize in letters of apology. But when I wrote to the Weyrleaders of Fort, I actually knew what happened. Ras chased in a closed Senior flight. Easy. This..." He raises a brow at Farideh. "Not so easy. Do you know what I'm supposed to be apologizing for?" "And did that letter work?" It's a legitimate question to be asking. "I don't know exactly what you did," Farideh rephrases, slanting a sideways look at the bronzerider, "but I can't imagine that they were happy with your behavior and you fighting H'vier in the wide open. You might try apologizing for disrespecting Irianke and Niahvth's event, and for causing embarrassment by fighting in the living cavern during a celebration. You can start there. Apologize profusely for bringing shame upon the Weyr, etcetera," she finishes, bringing the mug to her lips. "It satisfied my Weyrleader," K'zin answers, "And they let me come after Isyath clutched, to stay and support Ali." So that's something, right? Is it enough to mean success? Maybe. Maybe not. "And I didn't fight H'vier. You may not have noticed, and I doubt the rumors are telling it true, but I didn't lay a hand on H'vier. All I did was defend myself from a crazy idiot with a temper problem. I don't even know why he was so pissed off, other than that Irianke caked him." K'zin frowns. "And why should I apologize to Irianke for disrespecting her event, when she caked H'vier and made him mad to begin with?" He's not whining, exactly. "I think the saying is saving face." Farideh palms her chin, her elbow setting down on the table's edge. "You might not be totally to blame, but it's best to gloss it over for the benefit of a fast forgiveness, right? That way, you might not face any repercussions and you can go back to-" She waves her hand flippantly. "Whatever it is you do in your spare time. Because as of now, it's your word against Irianke and H'vier, and what if they both say you started it all? Who do you think K'del and Azaylia would believe? I'm not saying you did or didn't. I was preoccupied, but, it won't hurt anything to apologize for something you may or may not have done." Right? K'zin listens, his brows rising and falling, wrinkling and unwrinkling his brow. When she's done, he has an answer. "It's not that I mind apologizing for things not actually my fault. I do that a lot. It sucks, but it's not going to kill me to take the blame. I just... I don't understand what happened, really." He did have a head injury, so the rumors say, so perhaps he's just confused. "I don't get what's so wrong about Searching people from Igen when some of our weyrlings are going to have to go there, either." It's a topic change, for sure, but one fueled by the same now impotent frustration as not being able to write these darned letters. The laundress is obviously listening, with her chin in her hand and her green-brown eyes on K'zin, but it's simply tolerant until he mentions Igen. Then, Farideh stiffens, and her smile stretches false. "What does Searching candidates from Igen have to do anything? Is that why he hit you?" Her voice is low, pitched to not carry beyond their table and chairs. "We've been banned, from doing it. Now." K'zin answers what it had to do with Igen. "Which came out after we fought, after the feast. After I brought Zadkiel here." The bronzerider looks at Farideh evenly. "I'm of 'Reaches. If our weyrlings are going to be sent away, then some of our candidates should be from there." He says that much with resolve. "It's dragons they're lacking in Igen, not candidates." "You're banned? From asking people from Igen to Stand?" Farideh is repeating slowly, like she's trying to understand at the same time; whether she does or not, it's still a frown she wears in the end. "Why? What's wrong with them? It doesn't matter whether they're from, or the eggs? I thought riders Searched anyone who was found worthy by a dragon, or who wanted to. Why do they--" Her brow scrunches up. "Care? All of a sudden?" "Excellent questions, Farideh. You should ask someone who might know. In fact, we really all should." If K'zin were talking about girls, the way he says these things would make him sound like a complete git. But there's something in his expression that marks him as truly and deeply troubled by this turn of events. "I don't know the answers," he adds with a heavy exhale, "any more than I know what to put on these letters. Am I supposed to be apologizing for bringing Zadkiel to Stand for the eggs? Is that really what they want me to apologize for?" A wearied sigh escapes the girl, who sits back, suddenly looking very tired. "Why should I? I'm not a rider and I don't have a dragon. It doesn't matter to me as much as it should matter to you. Ask the Weyrleader. Ask the Weyrwoman. Ask Irianke." Though, this last suggestion pulls the lines of her mouth down, and her brow furrows. "Perhaps that was part of the deal, too. That you aren't allowed to Search from Igen. Certainly, not that there's anything wrong with people from Igen," Farideh says quietly, and ruminates over her quickly-cooling klah. "Don't you think," K'zin begins quietly, "that I intend to? You can't imagine they're going to be pleased to talk to me about it though. You should ask them because you have a stake in this too. You're part of this Weyr. You're Searchable age. If not you, then perhaps your friends will be the ones who get sent to Igen, possibly without their wanting to go. Don't you think if part of the deal is to send dragons, that their riders should want to go? Wouldn't you want the choice?" "I thought riders go wherever their Weyrleaders tell them to go. Couldn't they trade you to another Weyr, right now, today, without your approval?" Farideh studies K'zin while she speaks, quiet and yet reverent, of the situation and the topic. "They could try," K'zin answers soberly. "The Weyrleader would have to have the backing of a queen if he didn't want trouble. The queens can make their dragons go anywhere. The riders... we're a bit more troublesome." This is added with a wry smile. "It doesn't sound so very different than what they're doing with the weyrlings. Niahvth will be the one bringing them back, when they return, right? That's their mother," which is perplexing to Farideh. "They could have the choice to stay or go, but whether they're High Reaches or Igen candidates, they may choose whichever. There's no guarantee that a High Reachian would stay here or an Igenite go back. Anyone should be Searched. Not based on where they're from." "I'm not saying that anyone should be excluded from Search, though it's hardly the first time we've been limited by our leadership for political reasons, what with the Tillek heirs and all, not that we Searched N'gan," ugh, N'gan. K'zin frowns. "What I'm saying is that if there's a chance that our weyrlings have to go back to Igen with Niahvth, then those who might readily choose to go shouldn't be excluded from Standing. Zadkiel's Stood for Igen, why shouldn't he be good enough to Stand for High Reaches? Would 'Reaches rather see eggs go to rot than to find their lifemates if their lifemate happens to be an Igenite or a likely Tillek heir? We wouldn't have picked N'gan for a rider if we could've helped it," but he bites his tongue now. Almost. "Clod." Then he looks back to the letters. "I don't suppose you want to write them for me," it's said with no hope of a positive response. "Political reasons? You mean--" This drives the slim girl's frown to deepen. "Blood. Lord Devaki's family and those-- Blood." Farideh chooses to hone in on that one detail, her shoulders sagging slightly, her hands on her mug gripping that much more tightly to keep it secure. "You're correct, K'zin," is perhaps the first time she's truly agreed with the bronzerider, without unkindness or ulterior motive behind her words. Her gaze drops to the letters and she sighs exaggeratedly. "I can, but I would suggest you re-write them after. My handwriting is feminine, I'm told," where she flourishes her non-dominant hand like a swirly letter. The smile that breaks on K'zin's face makes the bruising slightly less awful. "Thanks, Farideh. I think I'll manage. But thanks. You really want to help me, you ask someone who matters about the candidates. If it was part of the deal..." He trails off and then looks at her with raised brows, "Don't you think one of our leaders should've told us about this deal? Before now? Not just... had it leak because Irianke pissed off the weyrlingmaster staff? I fucking hate all these secrets." It's said with vehemence. "It's enough to make me think of quitting the Weyr without the leadership trading me away. Not that anyone would probably take me." "Don't say I never offered to help you." After a moment's pause, a frown. "No, really. Don't go around telling anyone I did." Farideh's eyes flick to the side, to the rain coming down in the bowl, and she makes a vague humming sound. "Do you want them to tell you every time they make a deal or a decision? It's the same-- with holders. Lords don't tell their people about every contract, tithe, or major change, until it's usually in progress. You can't change it unless you become the Weyrleader." Amused hazel eyes come back to K'zin, her lips following suit in a smile. "And even then. It's hard to be a leader, of anything, I think. I wouldn't want to be one." "Neither would I," is easy to say of leadership, now. K'zin doesn't linger on it, "But the difference is that it has an immediate effect on us. I wouldn't Search my brother if he wanted to Stand this time through. The candidates should be told. Should understand what they're signing up for. They're not property of the Weyr, even if their dragons are. They shouldn't be traded away without full disclosure. And if that's not what's happening, then the Weyrleaders should set the record straight. There is no way they're ignorant of the rumors that have got around and all the speculation." The tirade K'zin's gives is met with silence, underscored with a hint of confusion and ruefulness from the laundress. Farideh sighs and cradles her mug against her chest. "I don't know. I don't have any of the answers. I'm still learning, myself. We can both ask? I can try to ask Irianke--" Before he gets any funny ideas or asks any loaded questions, she adds, "My friend is her assistant. I can go on a pretense and see if she'll tell me anything, but what would she want to tell a simple laundress? No, I think you have a much better chance of getting something out of your Weyrleaders than me." "I already told you I'm going to ask. I might even ask each of them. I'm already in trouble. I don't have much to lose." K'zin hesitates, fingering the handle of his mug. "I suppose I ought to run being a pain in the ass by Quinlys before I do, though." His smirk is faint as he says, "I got a promotion two days ago. Or, well, the job I wanted. It only pays a little better than a regular wingrider." It might be interesting, the order of events... Farideh is obviously hesitant to ask, but she obliges with a distrustful look at the dragonrider. "What? Are you one of her assistants now?" "Well, will be. When there are weyrlings. I got the knot, anyway." K'zin answers simply, lifting his klah to drink. "Are you going to Stand?" "Should I offer you congratulations then?" Now they're back to the back-and-forth they're used to, with Farideh giving him the eye even before he asks that second question. Her features go rigid, her mug arrested inches from her face. "I haven't decided. It's an awfully big decision to make. It shouldn't be done-- rashly. I don't even know if they'll let me, if they're not letting people from Igen." And then, she takes a sip. "Only if you want to. I worked for it and I feel good about it, but I'm just a beginner, so, who's to say I won't still suck at it?" K'zin gives her a wry sort of smile. He drinks from his mug again before he nods. "It is a big decision. I didn't understand it properly when I asked Quinlys. Didn't understand it until Leova put the fear of Faranth into me." He shudders in a way that is probably mostly for show. "It's not a decision to take lightly, but they can't tell you you can't Stand, unless you get knocked up or something. You're a member of the Weyr. It's your right to Stand if that's what you want." Well, to request to Stand anyway, but same-same, right? "As long as you worked for it," Farideh says, acceptingly, "congratulations." There is a smirk at the end of her words, but the gesture seems well-meant. "It is. It's not something you can take back, if, say, a dragon does find you out there. You can't tell the dragon to go home and leave you alone. I have to figure out if it's worth leaving everything I've known, until now, behind, for some possible unknown of the future." That thought prompts a frown and a sigh, and she waves away his speculation about a former Igenite's right to Stand as a resident. "I'm positive they'll all think I'll choose Igen in the end, since it is-- was my home." Was. "That is all true," K'zin affirms with a smile laden with experience. "It's something only you can decide, but remember that just because you ask to Stand or accept an offer from a dragon, it doesn't mean you can't change your mind before the dragons hum. It's only once you're on the sands and the eggs are cracking that there's no turning back, one way or the other." He probably means this to sound encouraging. "Would you? Choose to go back to Igen if you Impress?" Somewhere on Pern, Anatolia is having palpitations and a breakdown, but here, Farideh doesn't give a thought for her mother's delicate constitution. She turns to assess K'zin's face and any blatant emotions there, choosing to set her mug aside and link her fingers, before she speaks. "I might have a turn ago, if I stood for H'vier's last clutch. It's funny-- I didn't come here to replace my home, but that's happened, somehow. I wouldn't want to go back to Igen. I can't imagine the transition would be a pleasant one. Yes, there are days where I hate it here, in the cold, suffocated in this big rock, and I wish I could run in the sand and play in the ocean, but it's--" She chews her lower lip fretfully. "Home. Now." "'Reaches has a way of growing on a person." K'zin answers her words. "The good news is that if you were to Impress, so long as your dragon isn't so much of a homebody that he or she never wants to leave, you can go get sandy anytime you're not needed for your duties. It's freedom, of a sort." The bronzerider tells her, thoughtfully. "Of a sort," Farideh repeats, skeptically. "You still have to do those sweep things and be in shape and all that other stuff." She's talking while curling her lips up and wrinkling her nose. "I don't know if it's worth it-- for me. You'll know as soon as I know," which is to say, whenever she wears the candidate knot, if she does. "Might not be." K'zin can agree with a nod of his head. "Maybe you get a lot out of doing other peoples' laundry." He delivers it deadpan and then grins at her. The quip is met with narrowed eyes and a set line of a mouth. "Maybe I do. Maybe I love it so much that I'll be sure to pay attention to your laundry in particular. Maybe I'll give it a personal touch," Farideh says, smiling unkindly, just before she pushes back her chair and stands. "Good luck with that letter. I think you're going to need it." With that, she slips into the Snowasis. |
Leave A Comment