Logs:Taking a Stand
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| RL Date: 15 May, 2012 |
| Who: K'del, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In an act of (secret) desperation, Azaylia asks a rider to Stand. But why did it have to be K'del? |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 10, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Mack/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.
Although Cadejoth has been making regular appearances on the sands, K'del has not; today, however, marks a change in that, for the tall Weyrleader can be seen entering from the chilly outdoors even as his bronze backswings to a careful landing near the napping Ysavaeth. It's by chance that he ends up wandering not so far from Azaylia, but it's definitely not chance that has him altering his path to cross towards her, hesitating in the aisle for several moments before he hazards a quiet, hesitant, "Azaylia?" Azaylia abandons her knitting all together, arms sliding under the cushion and hugging it stubbornly to her face. The sound of dragon wings echoing off the high ceiling is enough to startle her awake though she still gives a whimper of protest. K'del's voice is a pleasant enough surprise, and she manages to stay steady at the blurred sight of him. "Should I leave? I didn't mean-" Caught off guard by a yawn, she rubs at both eyes before attempting to look his way again. She gives a small smile, embarrassed, exhausted and oddly accepting of both. "Shells, I'm sorry," says K'del, who does seem genuinely apologetic, presumably for being involved in waking the Apprentice up. "'course you don't need to leave-- these things happen. Rather people sleep in here than run up and down the tiers," which has clearly happened before, given his sudden frown, "Or fight and break eggs." Also something that has happened before. Now, he slings himself into a seat a short distance away, draping his feet over the tier in front of him, and turns his head to smile at Azaylia, cheerful and relaxed. "Busy day?" Smile persists, though there's a confused wrinkle to her brow as the young woman tilts her head to the side. "I couldn't have been napping for long." As if that admission should wipe away any guilt he may be feeling. A good dose of shock is better than klah at this point, Azaylia straightening up completely. "I'd never. " A nervous glance is cast out to the sands at the napping Ysavaeth and newly arrived Cadejoth. Loose curls are gathered and herded past her shoulders then completely around to fall along her front, fingers running through them idly, "About normal. Though..." Honesty persists, "I've just had trouble sleeping lately." Another curious headtilt. "How're you? Are things calming down?" Oh so hopeful. K'del accepts the explanation, though his expression is sympathetic for the not-sleeping-well, and there's something darker in his gaze that suggests he understands it all too well. "Sorry to hear that," he says, quietly, and genuinely. "Hope you start sleeping better soon. Sleep's important, right? I-- no." That answers her hopeful question, and makes him look all the more tired. "Everything's messy. Getting messier. Shells, there's even been some suggestion Iovniath's about to rise." Which really would make his situation untenable. "Keep figuring something has to go right sooner or later, right?" Azaylia wilts at the Weyrleader's words. She's suddenly bothered by the black curls spilling into her lap, brushing them aside in something similar to annoyance. "...it wouldn't be so bad if Mack didn't think more work would distract me." Just the possibility of Iovniath rising brings her down to the cushion, arms creating a protective wall around her head for a moment. "And stupid people will say even more stupid things..." Yes, now there is a bit of outrage in the Apprentice's tone, peeking out of her arms up at K'del. "I hope." Pray. Whatever the proper word is for desperately putting her everything into wishing that no more bad happen. She'll sit up once more, fingers busily tucking fly-aways out of her vision. A peek up at the rider, and then to the strands rebelliously hanging in her face. This is why she keeps it tied back. "M'scared." "Distract you? Stupid things?" K'del's confused, visibly, and deep furrows form in his brow as he puzzles at Azaylia's expression, watching what she does only as a sideline to studying her in general. "Scared? What are you scared about, Azaylia? Honestly-- things aren't great, but I don't think anyone is in danger, or anything. It really is going to work out okay, I promise." Sleep deprivation is known to make people do crazy things, and in Azaylia's case she... giggles. "Sorry." A quiet apology, but genuine. The soft laughter persists, and if it's aimed anywhere it's at her own loose lips and hazy actions. "I'm sorry, K'del. You're busy with a lot of important things and I'm... being silly. No one's in danger, really." Trying to appear reassured, for his sake. But even a charade born of good intent doesn't last long when it comes to the Apprentice. "I'm scared that maybe... maybe the 'Hall might call me back." She looks anywhere but at him, even if it means gazing back at the sands. Giggling doesn't seem to bother K'del, not even in this situation-- though it hasn't stopped him from giving Azaylia a look that is increasingly concerned, especially as she continues. "No - this is all part of my job, Azaylia. People. People matter. Know the weavers have sent at least one of their Apprentices home; didn't realise it was... why do you think they're going to call you back, in particular? Have you heard something along those lines?" His hands press sharply to his knees, as though by pushing, by causing himself discomfort, he might be able to solve this. Something. Anything. Azaylia closes her eyes, face still turned away from him. There's a fleeting grimace, her entire body tensing as he inquires further. Why K'del? She's hesitant to answer, that much is obvious. It may even seem as though the young woman wants nothing to do with the Weyrleader in that moment, which is a ridiculous notion to entertain if one knows anything about the Apprentice. "Just a hunch." She exhales towards the golden sands, sounding strained. "I know that my Journeyman thinks the Weyr is having a bad influence on me." With these words she's able to look his way, gaze apologetic for what she'll be saying next. "That you, and the dragons, and the ex- the islanders," She corrects herself, "Are going to turn me... bad." Clearly she's being polite for his sake. K'del's exhale is long and slow; he suddenly looks even more tired, even more sad. "Oh, Azaylia," he murmurs, keeping his voice low, which at least makes it a little harder to hear the half-hearted defeat laden within it. "I hate that. Hate that-- you know I think you've done amazingly, here. Not that I don't think-- I mean. You seem to be blossoming. He's wrong. Not everyone understands weyrs, or appreciates the way things are, but... Azaylia. If there's anything I can do? Please." "I hate it too." A whimper, but there's so much feeling in such a pitiful sound. "I didn't know how it would be when I got here." Azaylia swallows, forcing a smile onto her lips. Her efforts amount to lopsided quirk, the wry expression a rather poor fit for the Beastcrafter. Luckily it doesn't stay long, especially when K'del offers his services all too perfectly. Hands press into her cheeks, squishing away that grimace as it returns with a vengeance, hiding it from the rider. "...he might not be completely wrong." Uttered before she can stop herself, Azaylia needs to confess. "When Ysavaeth went flying, I-... well he has a reason for thinking I've gone bad." Peeking through her fingers guiltily, she's braced for his reaction. As if the Weyrleader might actually side with Mack, even just a bit. Then she can't possibly ask him the question that's hovering on the tip of her tongue. K'del is just about to launch into something else when Azaylia makes her admission; it stops him short, but he certainly doesn't seem horrified by it. Whether or not his conclusion is the correct one, he aims a sympathetic, understanding smile at the beastcrafter and says, firmly, "There's nothing wrong with that, Azaylia. Gold flights-- it's what they do to people. There's very few who can manage to ignore it completely. Do you want me to... talk to him? To try and convince him not to make you go? Surely he knows that you're mature and responsible, that it's - flights are different." He wrings his hands, looking somehow desperately eager to be of assistance. Azaylia startles even herself, "No!" Voice rises above her usual quiet cadence, offering a deeper note of feminine concern. "No, please. Thank you." And just like that, she's back to breathlessness. "If he... I don't think he would, but if he ever..." She's behind her hands again, desperate to banish the bits of violence from behind her eyes. It's unbearable, his need to help. Azaylia can only be so cruel. Her palms finally drop into her lap, head lolling backwards as she looks up at the cavernous ceiling. A moment stolen, "...and thank you. For explaining about..." Hand blindly motions to the sleeping Queen. "It's nice to know that it wasn't just some secret awfulness coming out." And in that instant, Azaylia honestly believes it exists. Head tilting to the side, nerves force a weak smile to her lips, suddenly unsure that her request will even be taken seriously once it's spoken. "I... you said that something has to, uhm, go right sooner or later? If I didn't... If I had a reason to wait. To stay, even wh- if they call me back?" This just wouldn't do. Back straight, head forward, the young woman twists her upper body towards the Weyrleader. A deep breath, and she manages to eek out, "MaybeIcouldStand?" K'del, too, is startled by the intensity of Azaylia's refusal, but his quick nod is probably reassuring that he does not intend to press forward with that particular possibility. "Oh, Azaylia," he murmurs, under his breath, even as she's still speaking-- a continuation of the sentiment, however, will need to wait, because her last remark suddenly registers, and surprises him all over again. "Stand." It's not surprise in terms of why-would-Azaylia-ask-that; no, it rather seems to be why-didn't-I-think-of-that, because he suddenly looks triumphant. "Of course you can. That will give us at least a little more time, to work things out and reassure your Craft. Yes. Azaylia-- welcome to Candidacy." Crestfallen expression lasts only as long as his surprised echo, and suddenly Azaylia is a Candidate. His triumph flipflops in her stomach, though she makes an effort to ignore the negative- saved for another night of restless contemplation. For now? Happiness. "Oh, thank you K'del!" She claps her hands together, fingertips dipping underneath her chin and the grin that's forming above it. "Yes, more time." The young woman repeats, emphasis on the last word revealing similar thoughts to his. It's only a second longer before she's pushing up and advancing on the man, daring to throw careful arms around the Weyrleader for a hug. Appreciative, and perhaps preemptively apologetic. Her reaction only makes him grin-- and that grin doesn't fade even the slightest bit, even as she throws her arms around him. His slide around her, too, squeezing briefly as he says, "I'm glad I can do something to make you happy." He's grinning, quite happy to show her that much as they pull back apart. "Will pass the word on to the Headwoman and her staff; you can move your things in as soon as-- well, guess you'll have to tell your Journeyman, first?" Which rather does dampen the mood; K'del's expression turns hesitant, even wary. More giggles, though these have less to do with sleep deprivation and more to do with getting squeezed. "I'll make it up to you." Azaylia swears. She's not solemn but insistant. "Whatever happens." Almost an afterthought, and the newly made candidate treats it as such. Sliding out of his grip, Azaylia perches next to him on the stone bench. Mood dampening indeed. "Do I have to?" Her attempt at a joke fails to shake off the genuine notes of fear. Before the bronzerider can get the wrong idea, "He'll be upset. I hate the things he says, but I still... don't like upsetting people." Despite the fact that her actions are likely to do just that. "All right," he says, not as easily as he might otherwise, if she were less insistent, but certainly in a way that suggests he's not really too worried about it. Not yet, anyway. Much more serious is his reaction to her fear-- this time, he reaches out to squeeze her hand, if he can, and to say, "I know. But sometimes... you have to stand up for things. Sometimes that's the way it needs to be. People get lost in what they see, and don't remember that they're not always right. Or that what's right for them isn't necessarily right for other people. You'll be okay. Can tell him I Searched you, if you like." Azaylia glances down at her hand, and his atop it. She returns the squeeze, offering a hint of the strength the Apprentice has gained over the years. "I don't know about that. Telling him who Searched me, I mean." Her eyes are elsewhere, trying to predict the conversation and already deciding on which subjects to avoid. "I'll tell him tonight, though. The sooner the better." If he's not quick to pull his hand away, Azaylia will pull back her own with sudden realization. A shy laugh, "I think... I should go do the things." She's already standing, offensively clingy appendages held against the small of her back. "Have a good night, Weyrleader." The hurried collection of her things and then off she goes! K'del isn't quick to pull back, but nor does he seem bothered when she pulls her hand away; his expression is rueful, for all that he nods. "Whatever you need to do, Azaylia," he says, in a firm and quiet tone. "Look-- after yourself. Let me know how it goes? And have a good night, too." If she can. His attempt at a smile is not completely successful, but it's genuine. |
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