Logs:Stupid
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| RL Date: 10 January, 2016 |
| Who: Farideh, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: How many times has this happened, now? |
| Where: Hot Springs, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 14, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Tevrane/Mentions |
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| A break in the cool rain that has been plaguing High Reaches of late finds K'del and Cadejoth out at the hot springs. Both are pretty much covered in mud, the dark, loamy earth of a Nabolese farmhold packed deep into their skin and hide, and now darkening the water of the spring as they wade into it. "I'll have you clean in no time," the bronzerider promises to his dragon, cheerfully hefting his scrubbing brush over his shoulder. "'least the rain has stopped, so we can stretch out wings afterwards." The cold weather is no determent to the golden queen who descends into the smallest of the clearings on the mountaintop. It has to be coincidence that this goldrider is the one to find her way to the hot springs at the same time as the weyrleader, and by the dissatisfied expression on Farideh's face when she dismounts, it's clear she's not thrilled by the run-in. Displeased enough that it takes her an inordinate amount of time to peel off her gloves and shuck her coat, trailing after Roszadyth into the steamy spring after depositing her things a safe distance away. "K'del," is a very polite greeting, with a tight smile, but then she's settling on the pool's edge delicately and avoiding further eye contact. Is it cold? Roszadyth is all sunshine, and a laugh, as she greets the bronze with familiarity and warmth. Hi. (To Cadejoth from Roszadyth) If we're being honest, Farideh is not the goldrider K'del likely wishes to see, either (though if we're being really honest, the only one he probably really, truly wants to see is one very unlikely to show up, given she lives at Southern and has no need for a hot spring). His expression contracts as he glances up to see the pair's arrival, and remains unenthused even until that greeting. "Farideh," he returns, not glancing over his shoulder to see the goldrider, but instead focusing upon Cadejoth's dirt-covered flank. "I'm surprised you didn't go somewhere warmer." Somewhere not here. To Roszadyth, Cadejoth is pleased, warmth radiating off of his chains and heating them until they buzz and spark. Such a fine day for a bath! And such pleasant company. "I thought about it," comes more willingly than not, "but I'm not feeling particularly up to acclimating back to cold weather and-- if I run into anyone anywhere, that would require the usual pleasantries and sundry." Farideh's tone is bored from just talking about it, and there may as well be a figurative eye roll in there somewhere; such a life. "How did Cadejoth get so-- dirty?" sounds just as polite, but she can't quite hide the lilt of curiosity underlying her words. It makes K'del laugh, in that quiet, more-like-an-exhale-or-a-snort kind of way, though he still doesn't turn away from his dragon. "Mm," he agrees. "It tends to make High Reaches' autumns all the more miserable in comparison. We've been out Nabol-way. One of the roads flooded." Still, K'del seems quite cheerful-- perhaps it helps that he's now in the warmth of the spring-- and Cadejoth certainly isn't bothered. A silent lull follows the bronzerider's comments, wherein Farideh squints at the oh-so-cheerful weyrleader and turns her hand over in the water. "You're getting the water all muddy," she notes, finally. "I didn't know Nabol called in the Weyrleader for flooding. It seems like they could handle that sort of thing on their own, and you wouldn't be all--" With a flourish of her hand, she gestures towards K'del and Cadejoth, and all the mud. "Never mind lending a hand," answers K'del, pausing in his scrubbing to glance over his shoulder at the goldrider. "We were there with part of Taiga, helping bring in the harvest. Seemed only right to help where we could, where there was a problem." His tone is studiously even, quite as if he's expecting a reaction to his words: demanding one, even. Roszadyth is enjoying her soak in the hot springs, and seems unconcerned with whatever is transpiring between her rider and Cadejoth's. "Never mind--" Farideh both sounds and looks disgruntled, leaning forward and settling an intent stare on K'del. "You're the Weyrleader. Can't someone else do that? You already were almost killed once, helping the holders." Cadejoth, too, is unbothered-- riders, so silly, but the water is nice! So is getting lean again. "They grow the food that I like to eat," his rider answers Farideh, tone clipped. "And so, I consider it important to show our willingness to support them, to help them, to ensure they continue to remember our usefulness to them. And frankly, I'm not willing to send riders to do something I'm not willing to do myself. So." The end. This is a thing that happens. If ever there was a perfect moment-- Farideh scoffs. "Really? I didn't see you hurrying out after the volunteers for the plague. No, you stayed safely ensconced in your weyr, with your tail between your legs. Why have a sense of morality now, sir?" And she lifts her chin, subsequently her nose, in the air. It's a valid point, and one K'del doesn't have a good answer to-- he did not risk himself during the plague. "While you stay safely at High Reaches all the time, and scoff at the efforts other people make to ensure we continue to have a Weyr worth living in. At least I try." His retort earns a sour look, but her cheeks flush with color too. "I know what I'm good for and what I'm not. I don't run around pretending to be a vigilante when the mood strikes-- I simply know my place is here, where there's less chance of stabbing, and sickness, and death. It's a waste," Farideh replies, not wholly unaffected. "Because you think you're too good to lower yourself to help anyone else," accuses K'del. "I wonder if you'd be so very picky if Roszadyth had been a green. Would you be wrinkling your nose at doing your duty then, too? Implying that dragonriders are too good to help people?" His voice is controlled, at least: no yelling, just a quiet, if sharp, set of sentences. "Perhaps it's time you were reminded how other people live. And how much we owe our existence to them." "That's absurd." The accused looks insulted, and rightfully so. "Roszadyth is not green, though it would have suited me well if she had been. Then, I'd only have to tolerate your suffocating presence rarely instead of often." Farideh's arms lift to cross over her chest, but she lets him finish his spiel before asserting: "I was a laundress. I worked long hours so your socks would be clean. I remember well how other people live, but that doesn't have anything to do with risking our riders' lives by sending them out to shuttle supplies and doing the jobs of holders." "No?" K'del's expression turns amused-- darkly amused. "I'm sure you'll say exactly the same thing when the holders can't bring in their harvests, lose their roofs, and, oh yes, can't get what they have harvested to our storerooms. What will we do with all our time, I wonder, when we're all starving and freezing and naked because we have no tithes to support us." "There isn't any need to be so dramatic, K'del." And the best, non-dramatic thing to do in response to turn a literal cold shoulder towards the bronzerider. "No one is going to be naked or cold, even if I have to invite the whole Weyr into my bedchamber. And I highly doubt anyone goes hungry either, considering some areas didn't have as many casualties as others. Other Weyrs, other Holds, we could bargain with, if we have to." Farideh stops talking and slants him another unhappy look from underneath her lashes. "You're quick to sacrifice our riders when you know they wouldn't do the same thing." K'del's silence goes on for longer than it probably needs to, almost as if he has finished with the conversation; the sharp, forceful motions of his scrubbing certainly suggests that he's irritated. "It's another hundred and fifty turns and more before thread falls again," is what he says, finally, not looking at Farideh as he does so. "I'd prefer not to find out what happens if the Holds decide it's not worth their while to tithe, because the Weyr isn't providing enough benefit. You can call that alarmist if you like, but I am going to do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't happen. I'd rather build unnecessary levels of goodwill than risk that, because during an Interval? They hold all the power." Silence earned, of course, but that doesn't discount the peevishness in Farideh's expression when the weyrleader fails to counteract immediately. "And let them walk all over us in the meantime. I wonder, if all three queens rose at once, if they would be half as understanding and provide candidates, or if they would take Lady Edeline's approach from the last time," she returns, tartly; maybe she looks like she wants to beat him around the ears with that scrub brush, too. "And if we did nothing to help them? I'm sure they would be delighted to give us the candidates we needed." K'del bites those words out before he can restrain himself, glowering hard enough that Cadejoth's lucky not to find holes bored into his hide. "Is that a risk you'd like us to take? Shall we put principles above everything?" "If we do or we don't, it doesn't matter, but you'd rather do it and be the good guy than not." Farideh glares at his back, likewise. "Why not extend the offer more than harvesting and building? Why not-- yes, Lady Tevrane, I'd love to wipe your ass for you," she shoots back, perfectly nasty-tempered and spiteful. "Next, you'll suggest the weyrlings help, or me and Irianke." So implausible, K'del. This time, finally, K'del turns around to actually look at Farideh, scrubbing brush clutched in his fist as if he'd like to use it as a weapon. "Why shouldn't you help? You, the weyrlings... Personally, I'd like to make sure the tithes get where they need to go before the snow starts to fall, and I will do everything in my power to get it there, even if that means fixing roads, or using Cadejoth as transport. Frankly, it would probably do you good to be out there. We work for the holds. The end." Hazel eyes fly to the scrub brush and narrow. "I don't see how it would be beneficial to either me or the weyrlings, but you know what? Fine-- have it your way, and when they laugh in your face when you ask for more candidates-- or candidates, period--" Her smile isn't amused, but smug in the I-told-you-so way. "And I'm sure it will look wonderful, for whichever weyr you decide to transfer me to, that I'm willing to help those in need," Farideh basically purrs, without a lick of kindness. And then she slashes her hand through the water, sullen, once it's spoken. K'del just stares at the goldrider, now, his mouth kept to a thin, tight line. "With an attitude like that, as childish as that," he says, "Frankly, I'm not sure who would want to take you. Grow up, Farideh. If you become weyrwoman, one day, we can try it your way... and see how well that goes down." "I'm childish?" Farideh jabs a finger at her own chest, her eyes widening. "Anytime anyone has an opinion different than yours you get all-- like that," she accuses, through a glower. "I'm allowed to disagree with you, and it doesn't make me stupid. You've just got a stick up your ass." And while she looks ready to leave, slanting Roszadyth a wary glance, she isn't giving up the pool territory yet. "Of course you're allowed to disagree with me," says K'del, the words erupting from him; frustrated and annoyed. "That isn't the problem. The problem is the way you deal with it-- the problem is that you can't have a conversation with me without basically dismissing everything I say and implying I'm stupid." The pot may be calling the kettle black, here, but K'del is plainly past the point of caring. "I'm done. There is clearly no point in talking to you about this." At which point, he turns around again, splashing through the water to reposition himself alongside his dragon. "Because you are!" Stupid, apparently. It's the last thing Farideh hurls at K'del, before she tries to find something to actually hurl at him, but when that fails to work -- unfortunately, nothing within reach -- she sloshes through the pool and hides herself behind Roszadyth's golden bulk. Nothing says I'm a grown woman like hiding from someone who already knows you're there. And whether he leaves first, or it's her, the result will be the same-- cold shouldering. |
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