Logs:Stolen Wine Tastes Sweeter
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 10 February, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin and K'del steal wine and catch up. As you do. |
| Where: Wine Cellar / Orchards, Nabol Hold |
| When: Day 14, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Indari/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
  |
| Wine Cellars, Nabol Hold A dimly lit space, this room stretches back far into the darkness from the narrow stone stairway that leads down from the kitchens. A desk near the stairs provides log books for the drinks entered into the cellars and taken from them, though the majority of the collection is nothing special. Barrels of ciders and beers are housed at the front in a spacious side room, while various wines are kept in carefully ordered racks in the main cavern for supply during meals and parties. At the far end of the cellars, however, is another desk and a heavy iron gate that locks into place, protecting the Lords' private stores from general consumption. A sommelier is kept on staff, with detailed records and comprehensive knowledge of the contents of this highly selective cellar. Rare and old vintages are stored in neat racks, never dusty despite their age. While fine wines dominate the collection, there are a few selections of other quality spirits to round out the stores. Earlier in the day, Leiventh's chill tones stretched out to greet Cadejoth, and in his distant, concise sort of way, arranged for an evening out. The destination: the last major Hold of High Reaches that they hadn't yet drunk their way through. And so it is down into the depths of Nabol they are lead by a helpful servant (undoubtedly bribed by R'hin), and left to their own devices. The Lord's private stock, of course, remains locked up, for now, but the Monacoan, at least, seems content to browse the stock, stalking up and down the rows as if searching for something particularly eye-catching amongst the racks. With a casual glance tossed over his shoulder, "Have you a preference, K'del? Red or white?" K'del has no doubt spent a not inconsiderable time at Nabol, over the turns, but the wine cellars? They're new to him-- new, and apparently somehow amusing, given the way his expression keeps twitching as he ambles after R'hin. He pauses in front of one of the racks, running his fingers over the dusty bottles, answering the other bronzerider's question without glancing up. "Red, I think. Feels like a red kind of day, so long as it's not too full-bodied. Something spicy, maybe?" For a man who drinks wine only infrequently, he sounds relatively knowledgable - ah, family background. "Surprised the Lord's family haven't drunk their way through most of this already." "Red. Spicy," R'hin muses, nodding and speeding up his step, circling around to the next row over like he might have an idea. He does pause, however, to throw an amused glance to K'del, accompanied by a low-throated chuckle. "Oh, their private collection remains well stock. And--" a pause, a gleam of gaze, thoughtful look, "--I happen to know he has a very nice Benden red from the end of the Pass that'd do just nicely." His look is... questioning. He's totally okay with it, but is K'del? This time, K'del does look up, and his expression turns from occasionally amused to outright mirthful. "Does he," he says, oh-so-evenly, quite as though he's just heard that the sky is blue, or that excessive amounts of whisky can lead to drunkenness. "Reckon he never brought anything like that out for me, when I was here in official visits." At first, it may be difficult to discern the younger bronzerider's answer to that silent question, and it's entirely likely that he's not even sure himself. Then, abruptly: a nod, a firm one. He's down. Hey, it's not as though he's Weyrleader anymore! "Well, there was this one occasion, after Thread started, and we had a close call with the Orchard. First time I'd ever seen him pale and shaking." While the explaination starts off humorous, by the end there's something a tad more dark in R'hin's tone. "After that, once I knew, well. Let's just say it was one of the few good things about 'fall over Nabol." Dropping his inspection of the nearby shelves, he picks up his pace, leading them deeper into the cellars. The heavy iron gate is, perhaps, a formidable sight, and after a moment to test that it is, indeed, locked, R'hin crouches to inspect the lock. "See if you can find something thin enough to fit into the lock, and straight? Or," he turns mirthful gaze on K'del, "Maybe they've been kind enough to leave the key in the desk?" They couldn't be so lucky. K'del, following the other bronzerider at a distance of a handful of paces, can't help but notice that slight darkening; he swallows, nodding rather than verbalising any particular answer, except, eventually, "Guess there have to be some advantages." As R'hin examines the lock, K'del keeps his head turned in the other direction, watching - and presumably listening - for anyone returning. But that request? It makes him laugh. "You're telling me you don't carry lockpicks on you at all times?" He's teasing. "Let me see what I can find. Back in a minute." It takes him closer to the entrance, of course - all the better to keep half an ear open, as he hunts for something suitable. "Why would I carry lockpicks? I'm no thief," R'hin's replying with good humor. While K'del goes to hunt for something suitable, there's silence from the Monacoan, and a faintly audible 'click'. "Huh," comes the bronzerider's easy voice, "Guess it was open after all. Just needed the right... pressure." There's a faint squeak as the gate swings open. K'del's low chortle is for R'hin's reply, as though he finds it especially funny given what they're doing: he has some scruples, even if he's presently down for the breaking-and-entering. Mostly. None of that stops him from being surprised, and perhaps a little apprehensive when the door swings open-- though he still returns, at a loping pace, brows raised. "How... convenient," he says. "You know where this wine is? Guess we might as well get in and out quick, before someone catches us in here." R'hin, if nothing else, is extremely convincing in his sentiment; there's even a lingering hint of surprise as he holds the gate open. "At the back, to the right, I think--" and with a quick look at K'del's expression, slips into the caged area. It doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for, on one of the lower shelves; the bottle is visibly dusty, and the bronzerider's holding it almost reverently... but also triumphantly. "We'd better not -- I paid him enough marks for his daughter's education and then some." He's probably exaggerating; it is R'hin after all. K'del seems quietly apologetic, as though he's embarrassed for his own reticence to do something so blatantly-- not illegal, but underhanded. He has a lot to learn, clearly. None of that, however, stops him from looking on approvingly as the other bronzerider returns. "Perfect," he says, bypassing answer on everything else R'hin has said in lieu of looking satisfied. "If you think this wine is that special, then it's definitely got to be worth it." "Oh, believe me. You've never tasted a wine like this," R'hin says, fervently. With a satisfying click, he pulls the gate closed behind him. "Shall we take a turn around the orchard? It's a little chilly, but probably for the best, given--" well, one would assume the wine, except, "--how is everything?" It's likely a deliberately loaded question. Something in K'del's expression - it's mostly in his eyebrows - goes a little crooked for R'hin's so-fervent remark, but his nod seems to imply both approval and belief. His mouth opens, obviously to commence some remark, but that last, loaded-question leaves him short. He can't have been caught out on that - he must have been expecting it - but even so, it takes him several steps towards the door, which presumably counts as tacit approval for the plan, before he can say, "Everything is all fucked up. What do you expect?" R'hin pauses near the entrance to collect a couple of glasses, cradling the bottle in the crook of his arm as his lips twist briefly in sympathy. "I'm sorry. For being there -- I hope you know that wasn't my intent. Was never my intent -- to win, but Leiventh..." he trails off, just in time to climb the stairs back up to the main hold area. It's late enough that there's only a few servants here and there, and the Monacoan moves like he belongs and knows exactly where he's going. "To be honest," says K'del, having paused to take a breath and compose himself, his glance at R'hin a subtle, side-long one. "After Cadejoth was pulled out, was kind of hoping it would be you. Know you wouldn't want it, would hate it, probably, but-- Taikrin." He says her name as if that explains everything - says enough, right then and there. "But no, didn't think you were there to win. Wasn't your fault, what happened." There's actually a visible stiffening of R'hin's posture that is part surprise, part wariness. "I'm glad it wasn't," he says, fervently. "Even if it--" but he doesn't finish that; instead glances at K'del thoughtfully. "Taikrin," he says. "And H'kon. What are they like? Are they... good for High Reaches?" His voice is low and yet conveys an intentness and interest in the answer, as they head out of the outer door. The cold wind whips around them, and he pauses in the entrance, holding out the glasses for K'del to take. Nodding, K'del doesn't seem to expect any other answer than that one; his expression is rueful. R'hin's questions, though, he takes longer to react to: it's not until after he's taken the glasses, and even then, not until they're out in the cold, that he actually opens his mouth. "No," he says. "They're not good for High Reaches. H'kon tries, but he doesn't want to be a leader, and he's not comfortable with it; the only thing he's really doing is trying to make sure Taikrin doesn't destroy everything. And Brieli-- they're all acting against him, trying to push him out." "Mm." There's a musing cast to R'hin's figure, and while he's carefully opening the bottle, he's listening closely all the same. "We really should leave it to breathe, but--" too impatient, today, and he pours out a generous measure in each glass, tucking the bottle back into the crook of his arm. "And Azaylia?" he mentions the only one of the quartet that K'del doesn't, deliberately. "It can breathe in the glass," is K'del's opinion of the matter, his eyes on the wine rather than on R'hin. Swallowing, he says, "I think I've convinced her to be wary of Brieli, to think carefully about what she suggests rather than simply accept it. So far, kind of seems like she's just been going along with everything. She's-- upset, currently, and I think that makes a difference." He sounds like he desperately wants to believe that; hopes, perhaps, rather than knows. "I think she's... beginning to understand, more and more, what it means. But she does believe Brieli to be a better weyrwoman than her." R'hin glances at K'del, the silent question visible in the look. Does he? Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he reaches for one of the glasses, content to let it be for the time being. His boots crunch against the ground for three more steps, before he asks, "Do you want to be Weyrleader again, K'del?" It's the second question that K'del answers first; it's the one he doesn't need to think about. "Yes," he says. "Wanted it at the flight, want it more, now. HIgh Reaches needs someone with-- hate to say experience, but that's kind of what it is. Think I can be of use." He lets a long breath exhale, white-tinged in the cold, before he adds, finally, "Azaylia's got the makings of a fine Weyrwoman. She can be one, but it feels like as long as she believes Brieli is the better..." There's a low throated chuckle, as R'hin says, "It survived well enough under you, my friend. And me." But for his all his brief humor, it fades by measures, nodding thoughtfully at his latter statement. He lifts the glass to his mouth, but doesn't sip -- instead breathing it in, exhaling slowly. "She's not Monaco's creature, you know. Brieli. Never was. Monaco would like to think otherwise; would like others at High Reaches to think otherwise, but..." he gives a brief shrug. "They rolled the dice and lost." Quietly, "You had Satiet. I had, maybe not Tiriana, but certainly B'sil, and others. And we knew what we didn't know." K'del is no doubt making assumptions about R'hin, but he's certainly speaking truthfully from his own experience. "They did lose," he agrees. "But that doesn't mean Brieli is High Reaches' creature, either. She's in it for her own gratification, her own reasons. Not trying to say she's... evil, or anything. But her motivations - I don't trust them." "I had Josilina," R'hin corrects, kind of ruefully; this seems to be enough to urge him to take a sip of the wine, and he closes his eyes briefly to savour the taste. He glances sidelong at K'del, breath exhaling in a smoky cloud, expression thoughtful, considering, a sharpness in the glitter of pale eyes. "What makes you say that, about Brieli?" K'del's cheeks pinken, just slightly, at that correction: clearly, he'd forgotten Josilina's part in this equation. He shifts his wine glass from one hand to the other, glancing at it, but not yet moving to sip. "Brieli... she told me something, recently, just to hurt me. For no other reason. She's made her position quite clear. Not saying that she's deliberately attempting to hurt the Weyr, mind. But... she'll put her own interests first. She attempted to fix her own flight, you know, Vhaeryth." With a purse of lips, "Fortian bronze?" R'hin, naturally, keeps track of many of the various Weyr's riders, especially as pertains to High Reaches. It's news to him about the flight, though, and he shakes his head bemusedly. "A Fortian. That line had too much interbreeding with the Istan line; too violent," he says, dismissively. "I'd wondered -- she'd told me she was sick." This time, K'del needs to take a sip from his glass before responding. It's likely that he's too distracted to properly appreciate the fine vintage, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it at all; he takes a second sip, too, letting the wine linger in his mouth before swallowing. "Vhaeryth is part Monacoan," he says, but it's an idle thought, not relevant. "No doubt she'd like us all to think she was sick. For my part, I'm convinced it was deliberate. It was only by chance that Arekoth stumbled upon them-- she tried to get H'kon to keep it a secret. Vhaeryth was never there. But he was." R'hin, too, takes his second sip, taking time appreciate it -- which also gives him time to consider the other bronzerider's words. There's a faint smile, and, "Riuscyth?" said with an easy familiarity. "Mm. Not much reason to keep it a secret, if it was innocent. Still, she's... maybe it's just in her nature." "Riuscyth," confirms K'del, without glancing at the other bronzerider: his wine seems to take most of his attention. "She does like secrets," he adds, unable to keep bitterness out of his voice, though he doesn't seem especially inclined to explain what he means by that. "It's just-- hard. She hates me, and she's half turned Azaylia against me. All I want to do is look after High Reaches; keep her safe. But I'm the bad guy, causing problems." Though the bitterness does, indeed, draw R'hin's attention, he doesn't press, not now. Instead, he stretches the bottle out, as if to offer a top up, as he says with a dark chuckle, "Sometimes, to keep her safe, you have to be the bad guy." With a sharp exhale, he adds, "But if you want to be her Weyrleader, then you shouldn't be. Just stay the course, my friend. The truth will out." He sounds so... certain. K'del hasn't drunk enough to really need a top up, but he extends his glass all the same, using the interlude to tilt his head in R'hin's direction, watching uncertainly. The other bronzerider's certainty, and his choice of words, seem to strike a strange note; he seems to be deliberating over how to respond. "Truth?" he says. And then, "Can't do anything but stay the course, really. Not going anywhere. Not going to give in. This is something I have to do." There's an all-too-careless shrug of shoulders from the Monacoan. "It always does," R'hin says, with a little smile, as he refills his own glass. A few more steps, before he asks casually, "Tell me about the Vijays. Not the public history; I know most of that." Given the bronzerider's rarely casual about anything, it's undoubtedly a deliberate segue. "Some of it," says K'del, before taking another sip of his glass - and then another one after that. He lets the wine linger on his tongue before swallowing, using the time to consider R'hin and his question. His brows furrow; he's attempting, very visibly, to put pieces together. "The Vijays? That's old history-- mostly. Someone left a Vijay knot on the step to my Weyr, turns ago now. It was the first time I'd thought about them in turns. They hated us; like it was our fault that they'd done bad things. Like we were supposed to just let them." Swirling his glass idly, R'hin's mostly looking upwards, regarding the dark sky and his glass with equal measure. There's a brief, interested look, and a purse of lips when K'del mentions a knot. "Where did it come from, though?" he asks, after a pause. "The hate? One steals from another for desperation, or profit; neither of those are normally motivated by hate." K'del shakes his head. "I don't know," he says, quietly. "The Vijays-- when they started stealing our tithes, I was still so new in the position. Only seventeen. And the previous interactions, well, I understood them only in a loose sense, from records. I wasn't there." He stares into the depths of his glass, evidently finding not answers but certainly something. "Never forgotten that we executed a man. That one lingered-- not something I'd ever repeat." "Maybe I should chase up N'thei," R'hin says, idly, though the flatness suggests he's not all that enthusiastic about it. "One should never forget past enemies, K'del. They always come back to bite us when they least expect it. Speaking of; keep an eye on that Indari, would you? She's M'kris' niece." The way he says M'kris makes his feelings plain even if the name itself didn't make the association with I'kris obvious enough. It seems to deserve another long contemplation of his wine and a tightening of jaw. K'del tilts his glance, regarding R'hin through half-lidded eyes, for that mention of N'thei. If there are questions still hovering on the tip of his tongue, he keeps them there, holding them back. In either case, he's undeniably distracted by that reference to M'kris; he flinches. "Noted," he says. But also, "It's generally a good idea, I've decided, to keep an eye on everyone from Monaco-- no offense." "None taken," R'hin says, easily, and with an unapologetic smile, says, "I'm from High Reaches, after all." But the laughter that follows suggests he knows, all the same, that he's no longer of High Reaches, but he doesn't seem overly bothered. The bottle is held out again in offer, "One more for the road? My toes are starting to lose feeling, and while gulping down this stuff would certainly do the trick, it's too good to do it." Before offering his glass back to R'hin for refilling, K'del takes another couple of sips; his smile is amused, both for R'hin's claimed loyalties, and for the rest of what he's said. "There's truth in that," he says. "You know a good vintage, that's for certain. Next time, though, let's head somewhere warmer, if we're going to be skulking around outdoors." None of which will stop him from enjoying the wine here and now. "Ista's got some lovely Holds," R'hin agrees with that, smile lighting his features as he takes another sip of his own glass. "And some lovely occupants; that's how I ended up with my first son," he confesses, though there's more wryness than any regret in his tone. "Ista," says K'del, with amusement. "Z'ian and I went to Ista, recently. Weyr, though, not Holds. Never really visited the Holds. Maybe I need to." His smile is crookedly amused, as much for the confession as for everything else. "That's one thing I've never lived up to, as a bronzerider. Far as I know, no children out there in the wide world. Just my boys." "Believe it or not, I've made plenty of less than wise decisions in my life." R'hin's wry humor is squarely self-directed. "But I don't regret it, not given the outcome." With a light slap of hand to K'del's back, he says, "Be glad you don't have girls. Resisting the urge to hide them away on some remote, safe island is daily challenge." As he starts to head for the courtyard, he throws out there, "Shall we toss a coin for the wine? Or do you want to save it for a celebration later on?" Given the look on K'del's face, he believes it, but it makes him smile nonetheless. "I'm grateful every day," he says, with a laugh, though there's a note of regret, too, as though he's thinking back to girls-not-born; girls who may never have existed. "No doubt the boys'll be bad enough, given enough time." He glances side-long at the bottle, then shakes his head. "Keep it, R'hin. Reckon you've given me enough to think about to make up for the loss. Besides, you did the procuring." "Yeah. Boys make the stupid mistakes," R'hin concedes, toasting those words with a brief raise of his glass as he puts away the remainder of the wine, casually setting the empty glass on one of the stone retaining walls as they pass. He almost looks disappointed at K'del's latter words, oddly, countering, "It was a shared effort." A moment of hesitation, before he offers his hand to the other bronzerider, abruptly serious all of a sudden. "Be careful, K'del." K'del laughs, acknowledging the toast with his own lifted glass, then finishing his own wine. "It was a shared effort," he agrees. "But you got us into the wine cellar in the first place. You might as well get the leftovers for your pains." He sets his now-empty glass down, reaching out to accept R'hin's hand; his grip his firm. "I will. Serves no one, if I get myself into trouble." He's abruptly serious. "Thanks." "Anytime," R'hin replies with a sharp nod as he matches the grip, and he sounds genuine. "Give my regards to Cadejoth, would you?" And then, lifting the bottle in salute for the other bronzerider's words, he strides quickly off to meet Leiventh. "And mine to Leiventh," says K'del, letting his words follow R'hin away. He'll take a few moments more, before he heads off: back to Cadejoth, to High Reaches, to all the things left for him to think about. |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 11 Feb 2013 18:46:12 GMT.
< Hang a man for stealing... but it's okay to steal yourself. HYPOCRISY! You see why she hates K'del?
;-)
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 11 Feb 2013 19:04:22 GMT.
<
Haha. R'hin is such a bad influence, I love it. <3
Maybe some of this badness will stick with K'del and make him all... leather jacket'd, rogue bronzerider. B3 Aww yeaaah.
K'del (K'del (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 11 Feb 2013 19:26:35 GMT.
< Now I'l imagining K'del as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Rogue Vampire Slayer. XD
And yes, total hypocrisy. ;)
Brieli (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 11 Feb 2013 19:35:11 GMT.
<
"What's a Rogue Vampire?"
Leave A Comment