Logs:Self Congratulation
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| RL Date: 8 December, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, K'ndro |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'ndro arrives bearing news. Maybe things change between them a little. Maybe. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 6, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions |
| 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. Morning dawned bright and sunny, bringing with it the promise of warmth. Bringing too, shadows, as one mind reached out to another. « Cadejoth. » Spoken with a mental exhale that's thick with the scent of garlic, the darkness of Xadovith's mind heavy, barely touched with light. Something serious is afoot. « Is yours awake? May K'ndro come to speak with him? » Expectation thrums at the edges of the link, the younger bronze ready to drop his rider off outside the Weyrleader's weyr at the merest hint of an affirmative to his inquiry. Cadejoth is always up with the lark, his response to the younger bronze thus already one jangling with electricity and the rattle of metal upon metal. « Five minutes, » he reports-- begs? Though there's excitement, there, too, that expectation begetting more as the bronze leans in to the request. « And he will speak to him. » Five minutes to clean out any awkward others. Five minutes for K'del to be - whatever his state might have been before that - settled on the couch in his weyr with the klah pot partway to the boil, his hands crossed upon his knees and his gaze - equally expectant - upon the door. Five minutes. A bright pop of light greets that, which could be taken as an 'okay!' or a 'that long?' In either case, one might be left to wonder which one is the more literal, because it is indeed five minutes later that K'ndro appears. Freshly groomed, clean shaven, dressed already for duty and if it weren't for the faint shadows under his eyes indicative of pulling an all-nighter, he might seem as disgustingly fresh and chipper as Cadejoth. He's certainly got the energy of someone who got a decent night's rest, or maybe that's just agitation bleeding through as he strides through that door. "Weyrleader," is the form his greeting takes, his salute sharp and snappy. And that's where his formality ends as the tiredness finally comes through, "Good thing you're sittin' down." With most people, that 'Weyrleader' is liable to be waved away with an entreaty to call K'del by his name. With K'ndro? It goes past without comment, or even reaction. The young Weyrleader tips his head up to consider the other bronzerider for a moment, returning the salute cleanly, though his hand falters as it draws back towards his lap. "Got news that's that bad? Or-- shells, man, you know sleep is important, right? Take a seat. Got klah in a minute, if you want it." He leans forward, though, expression undeniably serious, gaze searching, as though he's attempting to extract clues of what this is all about from the bronzerider's face and stance. "Like as not." Bad news or sleep being important. Maybe both. K'ndro's hand starts to lift again, stops halfway to its goal and drops back to his side. Back straight, shoulders squared, jaw clenching, what his body language is saying is that he'd really like to hit something. What he does though, is incline his head sharply and step over to a chair. He doesn't sit so much as perch, leaning forward with elbows on knees and his hands clasped together. "Ain't no easy way t'say this," he starts, his not-that-old burr coming back into his voice. "Was down t'a tavern near t'River Bend last night. Overheard some folk talkin'." He sighs, clearly not liking this. "Talkin' about Crom, about you, about what went down. They were congratulatin' themselves on a job well done. It was noisy and I couldn't hear a lot. One of 'em though... I'm fair certain was Sh'kel." K'del tracks K'ndro's progress towards the chair, his expression unreadable; as the bronzerider perches, he leans backwards in his chair, resting his head against the backrest in such a way as he can continue to keep his full attention on him. He's silent, outright frozen, as the other rider speaks, the only hint to his reaction to the news visible in the whiteness of his tensed knuckle. At the name, he exhales a low, whistling breath and shuts his eyes. "Fair certain," he repeats, finally, in a slow, quiet tone. "That mean absolutely certain? Or just mostly sure?" His eyes flicker open again, trained once more upon the bronzerider. "Dangerous accusation to make, is all, if you're not absolutely sure." Now that the hard part's over, some of the agitated tension leaves K'ndro's shoulders, but he doesn't exactly relax. For a moment irritation passes across his face, chased by a wry twist of his lips. "It was him. I weren't drunk and I got a clean look while he was busy droolin' over Uleni's-- uh. Assets." Does he need to translate that, too? Let's hope not. "The other two he was with, their backs were to me. But it was flight jackets hangin' on th'backs of their chairs. I wasn't close enough t'check their wing badges." K'del probably doesn't miss that irritation, and there's no apology to be found in his expression for it. Instead, he listens again in silence, brows knitted as he considers the words. "But if we're talking Sh'kel, we're talking Hailstorm," he concludes, perhaps talking to himself as much as to K'ndro. "Because that's who he hangs with. But... wish I had something more concrete." Beat. "Not that I doubt what you're saying. It's just..." He scrubs at his eyes with both hands. Whatever the source of K'ndro's irritation, that flash was all there was of it and he certainly doesn't look like he's about to follow up on it. He /is/ making an effort to put those diction lessons back to work, however, and squash that burr back down again. "Aye. But it would've been confirmation if I'd seen more'n the backs of their heads. Wanted t'clear out before any of 'em saw me though." He frowns across at the younger man, lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "It ain't no secret Mikaela's been runnin' her mouth since th'get go. Could have been they'd have thought I was sympathetic. But I ain't got a face for lyin'." Quietly; "And there's a difference between being upset about something, and... trea-- well. Taking it that step further. No, even if you did have, as you put it, a face for lying, wouldn't have approved of that. No." K'del sets his hands back down in his lap, shaking his head as he does so. "A name though, even just one... better than what we had before, so... do appreciate it. Don't happen to have any other details? Anything else you can think of that might be useful?" And then, another of those low breaths. K'ndro's brows pull into a frustrated frown for that unfinished word, his lips thinning until his mouth is little more than a thin line. "Whatever their reasons, it weren't just dislike of Crom or gettin' their tails in a twist over farmin'. It was personal. They want you to fall." He rolls his shoulders, straightening up a little from his lean with a deeper grimace. "I won't give you a direct quote unless you ask for it. I'll leave it as they ain't happy with you wearin' that knot and they want you gone." He stands then, probably anticipating a dismissal. When his hand lifts this time, it makes it all the way to his hair and scrubs over it, turning it into an untidy mess. "Wish I has something better to report. Somethin' useful. Somethin' as could actually help. Somethin'--" there he stops, shakes his head. Something that didn't point to any of their own being a part of this whole debacle. K'del's head lowers into a slow, unhappy nod as K'ndro continues. As the bronzerider stands, he opens his mouth as if intent upon saying something, then shuts it again, waiting until he's finished. Then, "Don't need a direct quote. Doesn't-- really change anything, does it? And probably, I can guess." His gaze rests silently upon the other rider for a few long moments more. "Wish you did, too. But." He manages a ragged kind of a smile. "Appreciate that you told me. That--" He breaks off. "Don't really know you, K'ndro, but I reckon I can trust you. If nothing else, then because Milani does. But... did want you to know. That I-- well. That it helps, even if it isn't good news." A bob of his head follows, punctuation of a sort. Simply enough: "No." K'ndro tips his head back, stretching his neck a bit before looking back down at K'del. A brief twitch pulls his mouth into a tired half-smile. "If wishes were fishes, eh? You're my Weyrleader." What that has to do with the younger man deciding he's trustworthy to an extent isn't made clear. If it has anything to do with it at all. But those three words are rumbled out with heavy solemnity. Some of the hard lines of his expression soften at Milani's name, the warmth of affection entering his dark brown eyes. But he doesn't allow it to linger, choosing instead to keep this meeting within the bounds of professional. It also goes without saying, but, "If there's anything further we can do." He pauses, makes an involuntary face as he holds back a yawn. "Unless there's somethin' else t'be said sir...." A gentle prompt. "And I appreciate your loyalty." The words are soft enough that they could easily be lost, except that the weyr is quiet-- except for the boiling of the klah pot on the hearth. What he doesn't say is 'despite personal opinions', but it could be easily be inferred, were one inclined towards that. He rises, ever watchful of the bronzerider, and finally nods once more. "Of course. Thank you again, K'ndro, and-- will let you know. If there is anything else. Have a-- good one." It's an awkward close, but heartfelt enough: he seems genuine. There's some kind of recognition to be found in K'ndro's eyes, but the unspoken remains so. "Sir," he says, with another salute, somewhat less sharp without the agitation of earlier behind it. "Clear skies." When awkwardness prevails, stick to traditional phrasing. With that, he takes his leave, to go find breakfast and a quiet corner to nap in before he has to report for today's duties. |
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