Logs:Quitting
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 20 May, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, I'zech, Sabella |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Sabella is eating lunch in the kitchen when Aishani encounters her. Not so friendly words are exchanged. Sabella tries to quit, but I'zech doesn't quite let her. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr/Some Meadow Somewhere |
| When: Day 3, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Jo/Mentions |
   |
| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr(#267RJs) Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
From the chaos of the living cavern is where Aishani comes forth, with an empty basket in arm - one that she hands off quickly enough as she enters the kitchen, with a brisk nod to the worker who goes off to refill it with bread. She makes her way around the hearths, only checking in on the cooks' and other kitchen staff's work with a supervisory interest; they've all been doing it for turns, for the most part. They have it handled. No food for her at the moment, but she finds a mug and fills it while spying Sabella rooting through her bag - with brows arched, she moves across the room to take a seat at the table even while asking, "I hope I'm not interrupting?" Lunch, search, whatever. Aishani's voice isn't one that she immediately recognizes, so she doesn't look up at it right away. The Weyrwoman is given a distracted wave of her hand, "No, it's fine. Room for all." Or something. Her eyebrows are furrowed together and it becomes clear that she's not finding what she wants. When the object of her search isn't discovered, she actally glances up to see who the mystery companion is. That glance of course leads her to the goldrider, an action that has her laughing, just a touch nervously. "Oh, sorry Weyrwoman. I mean, uh- Of course, please sit down with me. Though you are already. I really haven't been paying attention to those politics lessons, as you can tell." Crossing long legs as she settles into her seat, casual at least in a red sweater with dark hair piles atop her head, Aishani doesn't seem offended by Sabella's lack of formality, flashing a brief smile for that laugh. "I didn't really ask, so it's all right. And they do go on, don't they. Politics." Her mouth twists wryly as she cups her hands around her mug to warm them. "I don't know that the practicalities get covered really anyway. But the basics are helpful." A pause to take a drink from her mug before, "Was it important, whatever you can't find?" "They do. Sometimes I feel like my eyes are starting to glass over and really they probably are." Sabella admits, her smile sheepish as she gives up and draws the flap closed over the bag. "It was a book that I needed to read and turn over before the end of the seven. Hopefully it's just back at my weyr or maybe someplace. I'm sure that I'll find it." She lifts her shoulders helplessly for its loss, taking another bite out of her sandwich now instead of torturing herself some more over its disappearance. Leaning elbows on the table, "I feel like I should be providing some example, and explaining how 'important it is to listen in class', but I can't say I wasn't distracted by... a hundred other things when I was supposed to be paying rapt attention. Though when it comes to betweening..." Aishani shudders a touch. She likely doesn't have to say. And though she looks as if she'd like to give Sabella a hard time over the book and play the stern Weyrwoman for a moment, she can't really after that shrug. With an optimism that doesn't quite suit her, "Something like that usually turns up in one of the first places you look. How have you been finding things?" It's likely left vague deliberately; 'things'. "I think the lesson where we learn to send our dragons between is... not quite the same. I'll probably be wide awake for that one." Sabella reassures with a quick, easy kind of smile for the goldrider. She chews on her sandwich while the other woman speaks, only answering herself once she's swallowed her current mouthful down. "Exactly. Though with my luck I'll probably find it in a dresser drawer or under that one shirt I didn't pick up off the floor, you know how it is." Things. They got lost, such is life. The vague question at the end prompts a gentle lift of her eyebrows. "They're... alright. Speaking of politics I heard that the weyrlings that flew with Boreal the other seven got a chance to meet a tithe train. If only my exercises with Avalanche were as interesting." "It's... sobering, to say the least," Aishani can agree, with a faint smile, before taking a sip from the mug. "Well, the last I recall, there weren't any penalties as long as you can find the material, so..." She gives a little shrug, her boot in the air swinging idly. It doesn't stop when Sabella asks about the tithe train, but there is a wrinkle of her nose, a displeased purse of lips. "That was unexpected," she notes. "So it's entirely possible something could pop up for Avalanche, one never knows. Is it uninteresting, what you're doing?" There's no condemnation there, she's honestly curious. She's a quick eater. One of those skinny sort of girls that are still able to wolf down everything in sight without consequence. "I suppose. It just seems from my time in the Wingleader meetings with Taikrin that... Perhaps there are people that favor him, Z'ian." She watches the Weyrwoman's expression carefully before she reaches for her juice. "What do you do about something like that? As a leader?" As usual, Aishani chooses her words carefully, but perhaps she takes more time than she might with most topics; though her expression is more or less the same, dark eyes narrow a touch as she regards the weyrling. "It depends what you mean by 'people'," she notes, after another slow sip from her mug. "People, Wingleaders? People at the Weyr? People outside the Weyr? All of those have different answers. If you mean externally... no one outside this Weyr can think they have the power to determine what we do within it."
Setting her mug down, Aishani straightens, head canting to the side as she regards Sabella for a long moment, assessing. "Why are you interested? And are you aware that flying out to a Hold and asking such questions might further the impression externally that our Weyr is, in fact, divided, and therefore vulnerable?" Sabella's eyebrows heighten just a notch, then furrow together. "Why shouldn't I be interested? As a rider in this weyr, one with a vested interest in its well-being, shouldn't I be asking questions?" As for the other aspect of Aishani's response, there's a certain tightness that comes into her tone. "I was unaware that the Weyrwoman of our Weyr was unable to detect good natured humor and would instead mistake it for a serious desire to fly throughout the coverage area and ask random holders their personal view on our politics." It's of course somewhat dangerous territory that she finds herself in with that response. "My apologies." I'zech peeks his head into the kitchen, barely bothering to look at anyone in particular when he asks the staff in general, "When are you making that onion soup again?" He might actually expect an answer, but most of the staff just looks at each other and shrugs, and he's about to slip back out when he spies one of his weyrlings. After a few ambling steps toward her, her realizes who her company is - not that it changes his expression. He comes up behind Sabella, hands on her shoulders in a brief squeeze. "What are we apologizing for?" he asks with a thin grin -- mostly for Aishani, given his position -- having only caught that much of their conversation. With a twitch of her lips, Aishani doesn't pull the 'still a weyrling' thing on Sabella, but it's at hand, the tip of her tongue - so soon! "You can certainly ask questions, but I'm sure you're well aware that not all of them necessarily have-- or get-- an answer." Arching fine brows across the table as that tight edge enters the younger woman's tone, she summons a smile, if faint. "One never knows what's missed in those classes," she notes - though any mention of that is gone as I'zech comes closer, so there's that. "And if respected Wingleaders with turns of experience can't be trusted not to air our issues abroad, it's difficult to trust anyone not to do so. Even if... I am inclined to." There's a nod for the greenrider that's almost apologetic. For the weyrlingmaster, soberly, "I'm a buzzkill. It's a gift." Sabella's shoulders stiffen at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, she blinks in surprise and glances up and over at I'zech. "I don't expect all of them to have an answer." She says, turning once again to Aishani. "I'm just curious as to what the Weyr's response is to the rising interest in a Wingleader that's now being thrown into larger affairs would happen to be. Internally." Her mouth presses into a firm line and her eyebrows are drawing together once more. "Though you've avoided answering that question with more of your own, so I suppose that's the answer." She exhales slowly and shakes her head, putting her glass down and pushing it away. "Ooh, we have respected Wingleaders?" I'zech asks with brows high, like it's all news to him. But his grin cracks wider for Aishani's nearly-apologetic nod and the declaration of her unfortunate? buzzkill tendencies. "Apologies all around, huh? Sounds like polite conversation." Except he says it like polite conversation is a dull thing. But as Sabella, stiff shoulders and all, continues on, he picks up enough to sort out who this illustrious Wingleader is. "Ah. That guy." That she hasn't rolled his hands off her shoulders means at least one of them stays there, weighty and resting, while the other reaches for her glass. Shrugging, pushing out of her chair in one fluid gesture, Aishani picks up her mug. "I don't really know what you'd like me to say," she tells Sabella, glancing back to her. "But I'm not in the habit of discussing the Weyr's decisions and internal discussions on matters of leadership with people I don't really know. Whether they have a dragon or not." Her smile isn't totally without warmth, but it's primarily polite. "It seems I was interrupting after all, but I've lost my taste for this anyway." Wiggling her mug at both of them, she tells I'zech lightly, "All I hear about is some guy or another." Then she starts away, toward the sinks and, presumably, out. Her response seems to only result in a confused expression on the weyrling's face. "It's not complicated. It's just..." But by then, Aishani is making to leave and exit the kitchen. It probably doesn't seem quite correct to chase after the Weyrwoman, so the greenrider just sinks down in her chair. Not even bothering to do anything about I'zech's hand on her shoulder, weighty as it is. Her cheeks have a red flush to them and she begins to untangle the knot on her shoulder, pulling it off. When it's in her hands she begins the determined action of pulling the silver thread out from the mix. I'zech is giving Sabella's cup a sniff as Aishani gets to her feet, and his eyes skim over her across the rim, some twist of a smirk refracted through the glass. Whatever he might be thinking, and there are thoughts rolling around behind his gaze as the goldrider takes her leave, he doesn't have any parting remarks for her on that topic. He sets Sabella's glass down again as she goes yanking at her knot and his hand sweeps in, either to take it from her or just flatten it to the table beneath his palm, where she can't mangle it any further. To be talked down to by the Weyrwoman is... probably not something that's particularly good for one's ego. So she's a little frustrated when her attempts to pull the thread out of her knot are met with interception of I'zech's hand. She exhales roughly and lifts her shoulders, dropping them quickly in annoyance. "What are you doing?" She asks quietly, trying to not make herself anymore the center of attention than she already feels she is. I'zech's snort of a reply could probably be taken any number of ways, but when her shoulders drop, he snags the knot free from her fingers and it goes directly into his pocket as he steps away. "Tell your green to meet us," he instructs her without looking back as he starts toward the living cavern. From wherever he is, Rojeth fogs in around Ghislaith, present without pressing, watching from his indeterminate distance. She was going to keep most of the knot. Just not the part with the silver thread woven through. It comes out right? She's not going to find out just this moment though, because I'zech has suddenly taken it away from her completely. If her face was flushed with frustration before, well. Now it's double-time. The bronzerider is leaving for the living cavern and she's left with a few long moments to stare at her half-eaten sandwich. "Fine." Comes Sabs eventual grumble as she gets up, leaving the dishes behind. In the meanwhile, Ghislaith meets the fog without surprise. He's nothing new. Just another weather pattern coming through.
These are probably two of the ugliest dragons in the entire weyr. Ghislaith and Rojeth, they make quite the pair. Not that Sabella seems to notice the difference in her green compared to others, especially not in a moment like this. When they land in the meadow, she dismounts and looks at the place with confusion. Her eyebrows lift and she unclips her riding helmet, letting it drop down into the grass. "I don't have anything to let out. Give me my damn knot back so I can rip the pointless little thread out and put it down on Quinlys' desk. Then I can go about dissolving into the cracks of this weyr just like every other rider. And I won't have to sit through another stupid fucking wingleader meeting. And I can cut my ties with being smart enough, knowing enough, having to be enough all for absolutely nothing." That's probably what he meant by getting it out, but she's not quite to seeing that yet. I'zech wrinkles his nose, shakes his head. "Nah," he answers her request for the knot, or maybe her plans for the future. "I mean, go ahead and dissolve," he remarks with a nod, like she's supposed to do it right here and right now. "But keep your stupid thread. Even if it means nothing. Keep it because you can." Because he's just such a gentleman, he doesn't point out that she's 'getting it out' now, but then, he did know it was coming. So he moves over toward one of those boulders to have himself a seat in the meantime. And the ugly bronze watches from above, keeping an eye on that ugly green. Her fists ball up and she hits them against her legs. "Just because I can?" Sabella asks incredulously. "Out of all of them, I thought you'd be the person to understand. Do you really feel any better that you kept yours, even after you realized that it all meant nothing?" She shakes her head, that irritation growing again. He moves away to sit on the boulder and she doesn't just let him go. He's sitting down to watch the show, but it's coming to him. The greenrider shoves hard at his shoulders. "This entire place is fucked. It's just like Greenfields, just like Crom. You scratch and claw your way up only to find your working for someone else. And that person is an idiot. You're stealing marks or you're doing someone's hair or you're riding in a wing lead by an idiot in a Weyr run by lunatics. And you're powerless every step of the way. So why bother?" The initial shove is dangerous only in that if he lets her get away with it, she'll be doing it again. With force. "Oh, I under-stand," I'zech replies, that break in the word for the force of her shove against him, though he doesn't move from his rock. "I'm pretty sure it's fucked everywhere. But what are you going to do? Lay down and die? Oh poor Sabella?" He might not have shifted much, but neither is he going to let her shove at him again and when it looks like the next one is coming, he grabs at her wrists. "You take it," he tells her, a spark of something darker in his gaze, no longer the dull disinterest just waiting for the crash of her rage. "And you take what you can along the way. Like fucking silver threads that mean nothing. Because once you're done, they can't take it away from you." "Oh poor I'zech. He can't get up the motivation to show up to drills sober so they made him an assistant weyrlingmaster before they transferred him to the middle of nowhere and forgot about him." That one is perhaps a touch on the ruthless side and there is another shove coming, because she's not one to enjoying the kind of mocking, jerk-humor that he just threw at her there. Not that it works because his hands are on her wrists and quite suddenly she's pushing up just against his arms, ineffectually at that. It's there in that spark that she really gets caught, moreso than his grasp. It stops her fully, distracts her as she listens to him. One of those long-hanging pensive moments that can occur between two people is what passes here. She begins to relax, the fight draining away. She doesn't really ask for his excuse, for all that behavior that has made his reputation and landed him where he is now. But she gets it anyway. "Like you said... what's the point? It's not here. Not being a rider, working under some idiot who likes his morning drills. Watching a bunch of half-crazed people desperate for power that doesn't get them anywhere. I understand," I'zech reiterates. "But a few more months and you'll have almost unlimited freedom. More than anyone at Crom or Greenfields. You can go anywhere." As she relaxes, so does his grip. "You show up, you jump through the hoops, and then you're free again. And if you can take a silver thread along the way, why not?" She exhales through her nose now. "I let that girl with her gold dragon and her attitude get the best of me." Sabs admits with some small show of humility in her tone. He's begun to let his grip loosen up but she hasn't begun the process of pulling back and away yet. She drops her gaze to the ground between their feet, becoming quietly thoughtful and not bothering to think about the short distance between them. A smile tugs on the corners of her mouth and she hazards a glance back up at him finally, "Why not?" she repeats. But it's not a challenge this time. Of course it's also around now that she remembers his hands around her wrists and she flickers her eyes towards either one, then at him again. Clearing her throat, a hint of color creeps up her cheeks and she withdraws her I'zech-beating arms if he'll allow, taking a step back. Humility is met with an easy shrug, shit happens. And yep, she can have her arms back. "Feel better?" I'zech asks, his mouth curving into that smug smirk as he watches the flush spread in her cheeks. He leans back a bit to get his hand in his pocket, after her knot. "What did she say to you, anyway?" he wonders with an empty laugh that might just appreciate Aishani's ability to get under Sabella's skin -- though maybe it's easier than he realizes? The knot comes out, but he doesn't hand it over just yet; his fingers fiddle between the loops, testing the stretch of them. He draws a boot up to hook on a crag of the rock. "She said the word 'aware'." Which really doesn't explain much of anything at all. "It was the way she said it more than anything else. Like I was some tiny little bug she could crush with her shoe." Sabs shakes her head ruefully, ignoring that smug smirk that crosses his face. "Sort of, better than before." When he pulls her knot out of his pocket, she watches it expectantly, watches him manipulate it between his fingers. It's a moment before she puts hers out to him, "Can I have that back please?" "Like she was aware or like you..." But you know what? I'zech doesn't really care enough to finish asking the question. Sabella's explanation of why it 'bugged' her is enough to get the point across and the bronzerider just bobs his head faintly. And at her request, he holds the knot out, still tangled around his fingers but she can peel it off if she wants. "Little Sabella, picking pockets?" That's his guess. "Would she have believed it if someone told her she'd be a dragonrider? With a big old weyr all to herself and best friend who never let her down and all she had to do for it was fly around for a few hours a day?" She does. Sabs peels it right off of his hand with her slender little fingers. The flush that comes next is embarrassment, that in her ire over something else she would let such a detail slip. Even if it's I'zech, even if he's probably been able to suspect something similar all along if he wanted to. Her chin lifts, she neither confirms nor denies that part. The rest gets a short laugh and her smile gets a tug, this time on just one corner of her mouth. "If only life were that simple, right? Debts have to be paid. I didn't get here for free. And someday everyone always lets you down." That's just being realistic, to her at least. The knot now regained is slipped back into place. If it helps at all, I'zech doesn't seem at all perturbed by her former means of making a living. But then, she really didn't expect he would, did she. Her debts, however, have him cocking his head, eyes narrowing. "What kind of debts?" Sure, she gets nervous about the pickpocketing, but this she shares anyway? His attention is caught now, and he leans forward to catch her wrist again, so that she can't go wiggling away rather than answering. "Who's waiting to collect?" It's a firm enough grip, but not so much that his thumb doesn't trace thoughtfully, blindly, while he pins her with a sharp gaze. It's probably not nervous exactly, not with I'zech. Just self-irritation for letting it slip without thinking. That's perhaps why the admission of owed debts doesn't put her on edge, because she chose to say it. "Not all of us found our searchrider while we were standing around outside. The attention of some dragon flying overhead caught by-" He grabs her wrist then and she stops talking, glancing down at his hand. Her eyebrows lift: is this neccessary? "That's not exactly your business. I can take care of it." Sabs is firm too, with her voice if not her physical strength over him. There's a flicker of attention paid to the tracing thumb before she meets that sharp gaze head on. I'zech, meanwhile, pays no attention to the stroking thumb, moving with that slow, meditative pace a man might use on his own beard, a physical manifestation of 'hmm'. "Who was your searchrider?" he asks, a twitch of a smile pulling at his mouth like some clear indication that if she doesn't tell him, well, that's not going to stop him from finding the information. "You're my business," he points out. "But sure you can." It's a little flippant, his agreement, but perhaps not entirely without some trace of belief. "Maybe I'll even let you." The thumb stops then and he turns his head to eye her sidelong and weight for the discomfort that's likely to follow. She's never quite looked at him with suspicion before, but it begins to manifest itself now. It's not overblown, just a hint of something wasn't there before. Her eyebrows lift at his question about her searchrider, but she doesn't answer it. It's clear in the silence that she'll let him root around and figure that one out on his own if he's going to be determined on the issue, but she won't help him. "I won't be your business after weyrlinghood is over. That's the part that counts, right now I'm just like everyone else. My job is to graduate in one piece, so." She begins to pull her arm back, testing his grip. "I would appreciate it if you would." If she's discomforted right now, she's doing an excellent job of covering it up. Her touch is probably not familiar. But it's not one you could confuse for another dragon's. Ghislaith blows through into Tacuseth's mind, reaching out. Something she almost never does either. « She's worried. She may have trusted Rojeth's too much, she thinks he's going to ask questions. » There's another implication too, one the green herself doesn't quite understand. « He's from 'before'. » As if that should mean something. (To Tacuseth from Ghislaith) Tacuseth doesn't slam into her house with his blaring calls like he usually does (he's learning!). Instead, he just lets the hot winds flow about outside, even though her touch is not often felt. « Before, » he sends back, drawing interest from lazy to awake. « What did he say? Rojeth's, » comes in quick succession, alluding to not having yet alerted Jo. (To Ghislaith from Tacuseth) He does see it, that shift of suspicion lurking about in her eyes, and I'zech shakes his head, though what concern that could hope to dispell is really anyone's guess. "You think on it," he tells her, meeting her eye for one more moment before finally letting her go. At least, if she's thinking on it, he's allowing her to believe it's still in her control. For now. "You know, this weyrlingmaster thing..." he starts musing, tone light and offhand as he begins to push himself from the rock, as Rojeth wings down from overhead. "It's different." She appreciates that, really. « He wants to know who her searchrider is. He wants to know who she owes for being brought to the weyr. » Ghislaith's worry is faint as she observes the interaction between her own rider and Rojeth, a calm sort of disquiet. (To Tacuseth from Ghislaith) There's some time before Tacuseth is back, his interest now more on Rojeth's as he says, simply, « Jormunth's, » Kaitlin. « His would know of her, » he continues, strange amused about something directed at I'zech. « We are from the same clutch. » Then with sly curiosity, « Has his mentioned this? » he asks. (To Ghislaith from Tacuseth) "Sure." Sabs agrees to thinking on it, even if the smile she suddenly presents him with could be described as cagey at its best. With her arm released, she steps back and out of the distance of his hands should he decide to reach for her again. Ghislaith is there then, her slight form landing nearby to pick her rider up. His tone changes to light and offhand and she mirrors it in form, if not in heart. "I can only imagine." She replies wryly, moving to her lifemate and stopping to pick her helmet up out of the grass. There's a whistling wind, a gentle howl. « She did not tell him who. If he wants to know so badly, he can find out on his own. » That's firm. Curiosity is there. « He did not. » (To Tacuseth from Ghislaith) Tacuseth's crowd spikes in sound, indicating laughter. « His doesn' know, » he seems pleased that it hasn't been answered, « but his is the sort that would hunt if it suits him. » Still, one would think there should be worry, but nothing but curious amusement emanates from this blue. « Rojeth, I, Jormunth, Hyudath, » M'ron for the last. « Same clutch. His is not one to worry about. » But. That is hanging there, at least. « If he gives trouble, mine will sort him out. » How, one could only guess. (To Ghislaith from Tacuseth) She seems to be reassured and passing that same reassurance along. « She wishes to talk soon. When yours can. » (To Tacuseth from Ghislaith) « She is priority, » Tacuseth assures Ghislaith of her rider, having passed the conversation along now. « We will make time. » The crowd dims but his winds remain, it being a nod to her reaching out. (To Ghislaith from Tacuseth) |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 20 May 2013 22:34:55 GMT.
<
Sabella's reaction was unexpected, but in the best way. When one reaches out to their leader and is dissatisfied, how can she be expected to take her own silvery form of leadership seriously?
Even more of a surprise was I'zech talking Sabella into keeping her silver thread. That was an even bigger surprise... but it was totally, 100% I'zech. This log was really interesting, and I think a big step in who Sabella will end up being.
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 21 May 2013 04:28:34 GMT.
<
Now this is interesting... o.o
Leave A Comment