Logs:Searching Convicts
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| RL Date: 18 February, 2010 |
| Who: C'sel, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Corvinth Searched a convict. K'del doesn't /entirely/ freak out. Only mostly. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 13, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brenoran/Mentions |
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| K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Rank certainly has its privileges, and among them are amply appointed apartments. The short flight of stairs from the Weyrleader's Complex opens up into the larger of two chambers, formally decorated and clearly designed to cater as much to important guests as the occupant's personal living. Old, but obviously expensive, llama wool rugs dyed blue-and-black cover the stone floor, leading towards the second chamber, the stairs, and the rush-filled dragon couch and ledge beyond it. A formal seating arrangement - a sofa and chairs, all blue-and-black - sits around a large, tiled fireplace, whilst along the other wall, a finely made, if now somewhat antique, desk sits between a bookshelf and a tall cupboard to which tack-hooks have been attached, riding gear arranged neatly inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendour for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside. The inner weyr, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area, is smaller and cosier and distinctly less ostentatious. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels. K'del's in his weyr, as Cadejoth would have reported to Corvinth, and in the time directly following that exchange, he's settled himself on the floor, his back leaning up against the couch. The position has the advantage of space to spread papers out on, and proximity to the fire, both of which are being used to great effect. He's got half an eye on the door, though, evidently ready to drop what he's doing the moment C'sel arrives. Quiet footsteps on the stairs a casual: « My man Cas is there, » and then C'sel is stepping into the weyr, pausing in the doorway in fact as he takes in his Weyrleader's position. "Sir," he says simply and salutes crisply, waits for acknowledgement before continuing. Whether or not Cadejoth has time to pass the mesage on, K'del looks up immediately as C'sel steps into the weyr, and waves him forward. "C'sel, come in." He heaves himself off the floor, wiping off his trousers with an idle hand as he adds, "Can I offer you anything? Drink? Take a seat?" A nod of acknowledgement from C'sel as he continues forward. "A drink wouldn't go amiss on such a cold day," the brownrider accepts and after a faint moment's hesitation to sit in one of the chairs. "Also, my news may ... prove distressing." Pause as he adjusts in the chair and pops open his jacket, blue eyes lift to the younger man. "To some." Already about to say something more, K'del stops rather distinctly short as C'sel gives his warning. His hands still at the edges of his untucked shirt, and he pauses, mouth drawing together, before saying, "Guess I'd better hear it. Klah? Something stronger-- got a decent whiskey, if you prefer." He can't seem to keep his eyes off the brownrider, as though by staring hard enough, he might prise the news free sooner. "Both?" C'sel counter-suggests with a slight lift of brows and a slightly wry cast to his features. His gaze meets the Weyrleader's steadily then drops to his knees, hands meeting there, thumbs pressing lightly together. "Corvinth ... has searched a convict." /Both/. That makes K'del laugh, though, and perhaps eases the tension in him for a few moments. His face goes ruddy, though, and his expression freezes straight, as the brownrider continues. "A... /convict/?" From the sound of his voice, he can't quite bring himself to believe such a thing; after a pause of a few seconds, he turns around, hurriedly pottering with mug, klah pot, that bottle of whiskey. Maybe if he's not facing C'sel, the whole thing will go away? "Yes sir," C'sel answers precisely, face devoid of any kind of expression as he sits up a little, hands coming to rest properly atop knees. It's likely they're going to need that whiskey. "I advised the young man that permission would need to be secured for ... him to be considered." When K'del turns around again, it's with two mugs of heavily dosed klah; after offering one to C'sel, he sinks into another of the chairs, looking pensive and uncomfortable. "Yes," he agrees. "Yes, I suppose that was the right thing to-- just... dunno. /Convicts/. Haven't even finished their sentence. Not quite, anyway. And then putting them on a /dragon/." The idea seems to make him deeply uncomfortable, and he turns to his mug, hurriedly, for solace. C'sel takes the mug with a quiet: "Thank you," and curls both hands around it. He takes a moment to sip then looks up across the way at the Weyrleader. "It's ... questionable," the brownrider says by way of quiet agreement. "Though, I might point out that ... candidacy is work and there'd perhaps be no reason to interrupt the work of the convicts until the hatching, if the chance were to be offered." Breath out. "The honor of it aside, even in interval, this is no sinecure." K'del lets out another long breath, a solemn nod marking his response to the brownrider. "That's true," he allows, quietly. "It's just... dunno. You can say that once someone has done their time, they're-- free of their debt to society, I guess? But how do you know they won't reoffend? Don't know we want riders like that. But." He worries at his lip, then adjusts the mug in his hands. "We're supposed to trust the dragons. Does being convicted of a crime remove your right to accept search?" C'sel is silent for a while, looking down into his mug, then he looks up again at the Weyrleader. "For what it's worth, if it's only Corvinth ... he has a ... sense of the perverse." Pause. "Sir." Throat cleared and his hands move the mug around and around between them, though his face is as still as ever. "Nothing is particularly certain in life but for death," the brownrider says mildly after a moment. Though K'del gives a short bobbing nod in reponse to C'sel's first remark, it's the second that seems to take most of his interest. "S'true, that," he murmurs, before diving in for another sip from his mug, swishing it through his mouth for a moment and then swallowing. "It-- we shall see. Got to think about this. Maybe none of the others'll-- but." He's still kind of pink in the face, and the way he keeps squinting at his drink goes a long way to indicating how he still feels about all of this. Lifting the mug, C'sel takes a long drink, nods. "Of course. It's not a very straightforward ... idea," he says slowly and on impulse perhaps, he leans over, awkwardly aims to give K'del's shouler a pat. "Dragons tend to only see that a person might make a good match for a dragon. They don't consider some other things." The pat only serves to make K'del more awkward, though he valiantly attempts a smile in C'sel's direction, probably intended to say 'thank you'. "No," he agrees. "They do not. Why should they, I suppose... just... Argh." It sounds very awkward, his groan, though he adds, hastily, "Appreciate your handling of the business. Not just-- you know, running ahead with it. Saved us some trouble, probably." C'sel a bob of his head and C'sel retreats back into his own space, looking down into the fascinating prospect of ripples of whiskey-laced klah. "Indeed," he says quietly in answer to 'argh'. "It ... might be prudent to instruct other riders similarly," he prompts gently. "To avoid any confusion." "Yes!" says K'del, gaze suddenly shooting upwards from the depths of his drink: "That's a good plan-- definitely got to do that. Just quietly, though, so no one panics at the idea--" His expression turns grim. "Tiriana'll kill me, probably, whatever happens. Bound to be my fault. Still--" he lets his expression shade wry: what can you do? Stoic. "I certainly hope that the Weyrwoman will refrain from murder," C'sel says dryly. "I do not think her well-suited to a convict's life. Iovniath notwithstanding." The lines of his face rearrange slightly: sympathetic. "Panic to be avoided, yes." Silence. Drink. Drink some more. "I will have Corvinth let Cadejoth know if -- this happens again." K'del looks briefly distracted, and amused, by this concept, his chuckle a low one. "No-- she'd probably get herself convicted all over again for insubordination." The idea all but pleases him, albeit in the abstract; he breaks off from it, nonetheless, to nod firmly. "I'd appreciate that. The-- boy knows to keep his mouth shut? This first one?" First one. He seems to think there'll be more, then. A faint smile. "Perhaps," C'sel concedes softly and finishes off his drink. "I believe so." A pause. "He has seemed ... rather well mannered for a convict when I have had occasion to speak with him." That particular note seems to do a little to ease K'del's tensions further; he even half smiles. "That's something. Figure-- they can't all be bad eggs. Good. Good. Well. Guess we'll just have to... work it out. And see." "In some ways ... by default because they are still here, only serving in the mines, none can really be so bad as all that," C'sel says slowly and thoughtfully. "After all, are the worst not usually exiled?" Pause. "Or worse." Dry again. 'Worse' makes K'del flinch; clearly, memories of what 'worse' can mean are still quite close. He nods, though, shifting his cup in his hands, then taking a sip, then concluding, "Suppose so. They don't-- most of them-- /seem/ too bad." Another nod, then thoughtful silence. "Most," C'sel agrees on the one word at least and rises, looking for a spot to set the mug down. "I should ... get home to Ebeny. Sometimes evenings are a little difficult these days," the brownrider notes, settling the mug on the nearest table space. "Thank you for your time, sir. I hope this is all sorted out shortly." "Oh," says K'del hurriedly. "Yes, of course. Your daughter. Congratulations, by the way-- should've said as much earlier." He gives C'sel a bright grin, obviously pleased for the man. "And thank /you/. Appreciate it. Hope it's sorted out soon, too." "Thank you, sir," C'sel echoes once more and hey look, goofy dad smile. "We're quite happy," the brownrider adds on, nods one more time before heading out into the weather to go home. K'del's response is quiet, but warm. "I'm glad." Undeniably genuine. Then he bobs his head, and lets the brownrider go. |
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