Logs:Terrified, Homesick, Guilt-ridden
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| RL Date: 24 June, 2011 |
| Who: K'del, Sibella |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Sibella comes to see K'del about her meeting with Rilka. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 1, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Rilka/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. Night-time finds Cadejoth curled up on his ledge, fast asleep, though visible glow-light from within the weyr itself is a good indication that other occupants have not done so just yet. Inside, the Weyrleader is dressed down for the evening, his feet bare except for a pair of woollen socks, his jacket slung across the back of one of the chairs. There's movement further inside, within the inner chamber, but K'del himself is alone and nestled into the couch: very quiet, very still. He's reading, his brow furrowed in concentration. Wind whistles at the entrance of the outer weyr, and as Sibella penetrates this portal, she instantly feels a dramatic change in temperature and comfort. Her previously determined and purposeful demeanor is diminished by the prospect of speaking with the Weyrleader himself. Approachable he may be, Sibella has always stuck to her station in the kitchens and the lower caverns, very rarely needed to speak to anyone above the Assitant Headwoman. She is, of course, not intimidated by the ghastly-looking Bronze on his ledge, the dragons part of daily life, and tips her head to aknowledge the presence, whether he is aware of hers or not. More taken aback is she by the Weyrleader, so casually posed and dressed, having never before addressed the man so late, nor having been alone with him. Sibella pauses at the entrance to the inner chamber, unsure of how to make her presence known without startling the bronzerider. Cadejoth must be too deeply asleep to notice, but as quiet as the weyr is, even the faintest sound of footsteps seems to stir K'del from his reading. If he's surprised to see Sibella there, he doesn't show it; within a moment, he's beckoning her forward with a wave towards the seats around him, though one hand to his lips indicates that whatever conference they're about to have, it will need to be done quietly. Sibella takes her seat meekly, shuffling until she finds a presentable pose without fidgeting, despite her restlessness. Hands folded and ankles crossed in a Ladylike manner, she raises her eyes to the Weyrleader. Again, she finds herself unsure, not knowing how to begin or what to say. Deciding not to waste time or words, Sibella begins abruptly with, "The exile, Rilka. Is that one known to you?" Her voice is steady, she is happy to note, but appropriately hushed. K'del's expression is apologetic, and he indicates, with a tipping of his head towards the passage that leads further into the weyr, that there's good reason for the quiet. It's likely that one of his children is asleep in there - or at least being encouraged that way. His expression sets itself rather firmly into a frown at mention of the exile; he shakes his head. "No," he says, murmuring. "No, I don't think so. Should I?" Should he know Sibella herself? But he doesn't ask that one outloud. Sibella takes pause at the way the Weyrleader's face reads. "I'm sorry, Weyrleader." A beat, and then, "I've been incredibly rude. I'm part of the lower caverns. Sibella." She allows this cursory introduction to suffice as she continues on with her previous tack. "In any case, the exile, Rilka. She's exemplary of what I've seen in most of the exiles; she's terrified, homesick, guilt-ridden-" As emotion starts to thicken her words, Sibella turns her tone down to an audible whisper, her words flowing quick and without breath. "More than anything, she wants to go home. She feels responsible for the storms, almost personally. I came for help, and, more importantly, for advice. I can't, I simply can/not/, allow the exiles to remain here under the impression that they are being held prisoner, against their will and out of menace. She was frantic, Weyrleader!" Again, she has to struggle to maintain a hushed tone, unable to keep to a whisper. "And the babies... the orphans..." Now, her voice drifts off into an unfinished thought, an unfinished stance and opinion. "Sibella. Of course." K'del ducks a quick nod towards her, letting a brief smile twist itself into place upon his features. It doesn't last, not under the weight of everything the woman is explaining to him. He listens in solemn silence, straightening to a more formal position. "Think I know the one you mean, now," he says, at the end of all that. "Lots of dark hair, big eyes? She was one of the ones who tried to run away." He sucks in a breath, turning his gaze away from Sibella to stare vaguely at the hearth. "They're not prisoners. But they don't really have a home to go to, at this point. I'm not sure I have anything that /can/ help." Sibella crosses her arms, nodding at his description of the girl, and then again at the last bit. The Weyrleader isn't, after all, anything above mortal. He wouldn't have the answers to everything but... he has authority, and, being the Weyrleader, he's certain to have wisdom. Sibella rambles in her head along this line, until she realizes her digression and smiles ruefully to herself. After a few moments of silence and inner reflection, the woman realizes that she is, indeed, still in the presence of the Weyrleader and has yet to fulfill her purpose in being her. "How, then, can we make them understand just that; that there is no home to return to? Can't we show them? At least the ones like Rilka, who are so adamant. They need to see for themselves. Please," she can barely stop her tone from bordering on begging, "We must do something. I, personally..." Tears spring to her eyes all unbidden with the thought of the dramatic scene she'd taken part in not long ago, "It breaks my heart to see these people so frightened, so..." She searches for the right word to describe what emotion she'd seen in Rilka, "Desperate." She nods, satisfied, tears dashed. That was, indeed, the correct word. Hastily, K'del digs into his pocket to draw out a handkerchief - a clean one - which he offers over to Sibella; there's definite feeling in his eyes, though he's careful not to show too much. "My fear is that they would want to stay, regardless," he says, carefully. "I-- there's not much I can say, Sibella." He's repeating himself, and seems to know it. "Except that we're trying to work something out. We really are. It's not our intention to make anyone unhappy, and we /will/ come up with something." Allowing herself to be reassured, Sibella nods at this. "I'm sorry to bother you. I knew you wouldn't just let them be, but I had to be sure." Ah, Sibella, all too happy to let the responsibility fall into the right hands, her shoulders straighten as though a weight had been lifted. Even if much had not been said in the way of fixing the matter, it was being thought about. "Please, Weyrleader, do let me know if there is anything to be done." She stresses her next words, "Particularly with the babies." She smiles ingratiatingly. She may be just a kitchen woman, but she does know babies. K'del looks, for a moment, desperately uncomfortable. "Be gentle with them," he says, slowly. "That's all I can say. Don't push them too hard. They don't know much about our ways, but they have their own - and their own aren't necessarily wrong." He considers Sibella silently for a moment and then adds, "I'm sure they have plenty of people to care for the babies." It's possible he hasn't heard about the movement to foster the children elsewhere. Sibella yawns widely, startling herself into an abashed, apologetic expression. She rubs her hands against her thighs absently, as though rubbing at a stubborn thought. "Gentle? I don't think I know how to be anything but." Even as she says this, her mind brings to the fore a recent night where she was... anything but. A soft chuckle, and her attention focuses on the uncomfortable Weyrleader. Sibella opens her mouth at the last bit about the children, but she decides not to press the issue and closes it for a beat before speaking again, properly formal. "Goodnight and good flying... in your dreams, Weyrleader." Not sure if she /can/ dismiss herself, she stands and waits for a dismissal, her smile genuine at this worthy bronzerider. "Good," says K'del, sounding faintly relieved. He, too, rises, bobbing his head earnestly in Sibella's direction. "Thank you for coming and telling me, Sibella. It's useful, to know about these things. Promise, we'll do what we can." Beat. "Have a pleasant night - sleep well." His voice remains quiet; he casts a quick glance at the inner room. No sound: all is well. Sibella glances toward the inner room, then gives an understanding smile. She half-curtsies before making her way toward the entrance as soundlessly as possible, glad she'd come to the Weyrleader with her worries, thoughtless that she might be adding to his. |
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