Logs:Request Denied

Request Denied
"I don't trust your promises. You've just made it very plain that you don't understand how things work."
RL Date: 25 April, 2015
Who: Alida, K'del, Cadejoth, Ilicaeth
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: Alida missteps (according to K'del) in an attempt to return to Glacier.
Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 18, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10)
Weather: Warm, sunny, slight breeze.
Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions




A brief pause for breath between various times of activity in Weyr and elsewhere sees Ilicaeth's gritty swirls of fine sand skittering outward to grate lightly upon Cadejoth's 'front door,' a first test to see if the bronze is awake and aware. If so, that sand transmutes into dust motes that filter under that mental door, faint flecks of mica within them flashing in time with his baritone rumble, « Yers got a couple minutes ta see Alida? » Cadejoth sits high atop the Weyr, staring down over 'his' domain from that most perfect of vantage points; his response carries with it the rattle of ancient bones, and a quiet enthusiasm and energy that no doubt has him tapping his tail endlessly upon the rim. « He's in the chambers, » he reports back, after a few moments consultation with his rider. « He has a short amount of time. » In the aforementioned Council Chambers, K'del sits at the otherwise-empty table, although a collection of empty mugs and glasses suggests it hasn't been empty for long; he's got a stack of papers in front of him, but has drawn his chair back, blue eyes trained upon the door expectantly. What's he enthusiastic about? The new 'kids?" Ilicaeth always tries to keep the pulse of the Weyr in mind, and some quick images of various little weyrlings flicker like movie reels through his mind: Akluseth/Edyis, their new, buttery-round little gold, and wide-eyed Jorrth. Give the blue pair about 3 minutes to get down to ground level, and Alida's soon stepping into the chambers with a low clearing of her throat sufficing for a knock just before she crosses the verge. Concise, green eyes flick to where the Weyrleader is settled, and as she advances upon him, the blonde's alto notes almost casually, "Likely won't take long." Beat. "When c'n I return ta Glacier?" Within her low murmur, there's guarded hints of caution, a certain weariness, and resolve. Does Cadejoth need something specific to be enthusiastic about? Clearly, he's pleased by the little dragons-- all of them, from one to seventeen-- but the sun is warm, the wind is cool, and life is wonderful. Down on the ground, K'del's half-nod seems to imply he's expecting this question, though there's a twitch of something amused-- and irritated-- in his expression. "Good afternoon, bluerider," he stresses. "It was my pleasure to give you some time; you're very welcome." More stresses. His brows raise, too: has he made his point? Siiiiigh. Yes, she gets the point. It's just Alida's usual need to get right to the point that made her forget the usual, more formal greetings. Lip-twist...smirk. "Afternoon, Weyrleader. Thanks fer the spare bit uv' time." Green eyes silently, but directly inquire of K'del: 'Happy, now?' Yeesh. Splayed out in the Bowl to collect the largest amount of sunshine possible, Ilicaeth sucks up the warmth of Rukbat and his grand-sire's mellow, positive mood like a sponge. Mmmm-hmm. 'Happy' might not be the correct word, but 'satisfied' probably does cover it. K'del's short nod suggests that much, in any case-- and beyond that, he spreads his hands flat upon the table and says, "To answer your question... guess it depends on when I feel you can be trusted to behave in a way that befits a High Reaches dragonrider." She had a feeling he'd say something like that, and so Alida's rather ready with her low-voice, though intense response of, "I've been workin' my ass off ta do nothin' but be outstanding in Taiga." And she has been exemplary...for her, anyway. "Can't please everyone, uv' course." Those in Taiga who either refuse to deal with her in any other way but coldly, or who outright loathe her. Shrug. "I've been around lots uv' other places - aside from Devaki's, of course..." smirk/eyeroll "...and I've not given anyone, rider 'r holder 'r crafter, any reason ta call me out." Yet. Keeping her head low, indeed. "And yet," comes K'del's response, prompt on the heels of Alida's words, "You walk in here and treat me, your Weyrleader like a peer and not a superior. You refer to Lord Devaki by his first name. They may seem like small things to you, but they matter to me. There's a time and place for being casual. Hierarchy is there for a reason; if you need to be reminded to accord me with the respect my rank affords me, how can I trust you to not pull another stupid stunt that like that one you tried to pull at the Hold?" She looks about to snip, but prudence keeps Alida quiet and guarded after that instant passes, the blonde listening to the man, then letting the air clear a little before she murmurs, "This Weyr... well, let's say I've never seen formality used very much. Must've gotten used ta that after so long." No shrug, this time. "S'one uv the things I think makes 'Reaches superior ta some other places." Unspoken: Igen. Benden. A wintry little look - touched with small hints of bitterness, stark understanding, and more of that odd tireness - fleetingly races across the woman's expressive features, and then finally settles into a look K'del might recognize: no-bullshit. Something one might see upon the face of a dragonrider going out to meet Thread. Even her back straightens as green eyes bore into blues without malice, the woman's stance more soldierly, as she notes crisply, "'Cause I'll promise." Really? K'del's brow raises. "Haven't you? You haven't been paying attention then. We may be less formal than some Weyrs, certainly, but that doesn't mean I don't expect my riders to obey, or to give respect where it is due when it comes to work matters. That is your problem, Alida; I don't know how the shell you ever managed as a guard, when you can't seem to grasp hierarchy, or the need to follow orders." He pauses for a moment, studying the bluerider carefully. "I don't trust your promises. You've just made it very plain that you don't understand how things work." Oh, she's been paying attention. But Alida tends to see certain things purely from her own perspective: bullheaded. There's a narrowing of her eyes as something K'del says about Guarding fires her ire, but the bluerider remains silent, leaning on her mellow blue lifemate's current, placid mood to bouy her. Deep breath, let it out. Better. "I can...and I do." Whether he impulsiveness, temper, and stubborness 'allow' her to is another thing. More intently, in pinpoint focus to the bronzerider is offered, "Weyrleader; my promises are never ever given lightly. When I give it... that's it. Period." Frown. "I do not dick around with my promises." "You say that, Alida," begins K'del, with a sigh. "But this wasn't the first time this has been an issue. It's not my intention to keep you in Taiga forever, but," and there is a warning note to his tone as he says this, "Right now I don't trust you much at all. Or your attitude. So for the moment? You fly for Taiga. You do what F'manis tells you; you do what I tell you. And you treat every ranking rider here with due respect, until or unless they tell you otherwise. I will tell you when you can report back to Glacier." Damn it. Dammit-dammit-DAMN IT! That's the frustration in green eyes as her inner ire licks at constraints, is ruffled back under control by the blue carpet of rocky dragon out in the Bowl...Ilicaeth's eyes gaining orange arcs across facets as the blue backs-up and bolsters his rider. There's a long moment where the blonde has to close her eyes and assume a parade-rest stance to focus on her inner discontent in order to beat it back - 'lida's face untouched by expression, though muscles bulge at her jaw once or twice - but when she re-opens them, there's nothing but dull metal and utter sobriety within them. And again, that tiredness. "Yes, sir." Beat. "Permission ta' depart." "Granted," answers K'del, promptly. "You've been a rider too long for this to still be an issue, Alida; see to it that it stops being one. I'm sure Taikrin will be glad to have you back, eventually." His nod is a sharp one; rider dismissed. Unadmitted to anyone other than Ilciaeth: she desperately misses Glacier, and being away from it is a kind-of near-physical pain. But nothing of Alida's continued anger, bitterness show as she offers the Weyrleader a picture-perfect Guard's salute, then pivots about on a heel to stride with paced dignity back out to her lifemate, and mount up, and direct him up and Between to somewhere else. And if she returns to her weyr with some split knuckles and a few more bruises about her...well, nobody's the wiser. Well, except Ilicaeth. Ouch.