Logs:Problem Child
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 11 July, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist goes to tell Azaylia what he's done, just like K'del told him to. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 3, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hana/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
  |
| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr 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 proper morning by the time Azaylia settles into the council chambers-- after her frosty morning run, washing up, and Hana's assistance with her hair. The remains of breakfast are on a platter next to her, pushed away save for her cup of tea. She's not terribly engrossed in her paperwork, not yet, expectant eyes shifting to the doorway every few minutes. She knows there's been a disturbance. Cadejoth was upset the night before, had left, and K'del may have hinted that a certain young bronzerider has some explaining to do. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, the Weyrwoman waits. It might be expected that A'rist show up looking over-tired, haggard, or at the very least, a bit stressed out. He doesn't, really. As he drops from Lythronath's neck on the weyrleader's ledge, the young bronzerider simply looks intensely focused. His eyes are bright with that intensity, too, when he makes his way into the council chambers, just moments after Lythronath has announced to Hraedhyth a bored, « Here. » Because the only 'here' that's exciting right now is where he's not supposed to be, and the galleries aren't within view. A'rist does his own announcement of, "Weyrwoman," too. Hraedhyth has no words for Lythronath, her reply filled with the low rumble of drums and the angry rattle of her mate's chains. He's done something. She knows. It's during one of those rare moments that she's attempting to read when A'rist finally does appear, her eyes snapping up with a look of surprise. It's gone by the time he greets her, the Weyrwoman motioning toward one of the chairs while she sits at the head of the table. "Wingrider A'rist." Formality is matched, though her tone remains cautious. Gentle. For now. Lythronath does many things. Sitting on the weyrleader's ledge doesn't count as doing anything. He stretches, and scratches, and mentally butts at Hraedhyth's silence. A'rist is more composed. He moves to that chair, giving only the slightest grimace for having to sit before dropping into it. He looks across the table to Azaylia for only a moment. Then, "We took out a ship. Wrecked." Secondhand disappointment is enough for Hraedhyth to throw up a wall of noise between her and Lythronath. No. Azaylia folds her hands atop her forgotten paperwork, prepared and yet not for what A'rist actually says. "Ah..." Quietly, "A ship?" As if he could be mistaken about such a thing. There's a faint tilt of her head, focused gaze locked on the bronzerider, "Whose? Was it on purpose? Did... was there anyone on it? Are they alright? Did you check? " A flurry of breathless questions, though some carry more heat than others. "Yes." A ship. "Pirates." Said with certainty. "We checked." The middle question skipped, but a nod answering that yes, they are all right. A'rist leans back a bit into his chair, and clasps his hands before him, the better to stare at them. "It wasn't on purpose. Not any more than when you- it just sort of exploded, we kept an eye on it after. From farther out." "Pirates." She's not breathing a sigh of relief just yet, but it is certainly better than the alternatives. Azaylia eases back into her chair, though her back stiffens as she regards him, "Than when I..? I-- We, haven't destroyed any ships." Her hands break away, flattening palms and splaying fingers as she stands, suddenly restless. "Did they-- they must have seen you. A dragon. Destroying a ship." A pirate ship, but still. It only just occurs to ask, "Why were you even there?" "Not you." A'rist's eyes are pinned on Azaylia, specifically, for long enough that she'll hopefully catch his meaning. "They saw us. We went there because it was a clear point. We wouldn't get lost. That was it. They were just... there, that time. Their ship. I think K'del is going to try round them up." Head tilting down, gaze quieter, if not darker. "They won't have gone far." More repetition, "They saw you." Even softer, if more intense, "The Weyrleader is..." Azaylia sinks back into her seat, reaching up to press her hands into her face, palms together. "This is... I don't need to tell you how..." She's said it all before, only now those shocked words don't even scratch the surface. With closed eyes and a whisper, "This can't... They can't know. If one of them gets away..." The Weyrwoman still sounds lost. For every realization comes two new problems, until she presses for more, "Why." A'rist nods, solemnity almost looking similar to boredom. Almost. "If one of them gets away, all the clever lying's for nothing, I get it. We could've stopped any of them getting away. But we didn't." It's said calmly, the last parts, but his eye get a bit wider. "Because it was there and they were bad and we were crazy." And now, those eyes close, tight. "Cadejoth told Lythronath he doesn't want him in his pack. Lynner laughed. But Cadejoth's probably right. He's not like other dragons." "Cadejoth cares about the Weyr. About his home. He... was probably angry." Azaylia's far too calm, whispery soprano almost monotone as she speaks, "This could... make things very, very hard on us. But," There's a slow inhale, "That doesn't... Even now, you and Lythronath are a part of High Reaches. Unless you think Lythronath would be better off at another Weyr?" With her hard stare and flat expression, it's obvious she already knows the answer to that one. "I just... don't know what we're going to do with you." Or the situation, but hopefully that's already being taken care of. "Lythronath..." But whatever he was going to say to compare, A'rist holds it back, opening his eyes as he shakes his head. "I wasn't talking about a transfer." He shifts in his chair, uncomfortable, one hand going to the edge of the seat so he can heft himself a bit, wriggle. "You should probably find some sort of punishment for now. I think that's what the weyrleader wanted, with us coming to you." "What, then?" More of a snap, surprise bringing some of that agitation to the surface. "Want to go off and... and be a renegade? Hurt your home on purpose instead of by accident?" Azaylia catches herself, closing her eyes to cut off the stare that's settled on the bronzerider. "I worry about you. Both of you. I don't want you doing anything stupid." On the subject of punishment, the Weyrwoman shakes her head. "I don't want you going near that place. Not unless the Weyrleader," And audible difference, stressing K'del's title at A'rist, "Says so." No more pirates for Lythronath. "We wouldn't go against the Weyr," has a harsh note of protest in it, insistence, even. The bit about hurting his home, the bit he's almost spoken through, still reaches his ears. It makes him clamp his mouth shut and glare at the table, more the teenager and less the man, now. "K'del already told us that. We're out. It's fine, we don't play those sorts of games very well anyway." "It's so you won't do anymore damage." At least not where stolen ships are involved. Surely, Lythronath will find some other way. "I don't know how to punish you anymore than that. I know you're trying. That Lythronath isn't like other dragons." Or, more likely, she isn't willing to. "I don't know what games you think are being played but..." The Weyrwoman gives a little shake of her head, voice firm, "I don't know what I'll do if you... If things get worse. If you make them that way." With that hard stare, what could be a plea comes out as an order, "Don't put me in that position." A'rist has nothing more to say. His jaw stays clamped shut, although he does look up to meet that stare, right at the end. From there, hands come apart, and he pushes his chair back from the table - but waits to stand, an expectant look on the Weyrwoman for his dismissal. Azaylia watches A'rist as he pushes away from the table, the quiet calm returning, "It would be better if you kept Lythronath away from the eggs. To give Cadejoth and Hraedhyth some time to forget." His dismissal comes in a gentle nod, tense and careful before the Weyrwoman reaches for her paperwork. It'll be some time before she actually sees the words that are written and is able to truly start her day. |
Leave A Comment