Logs:Things Are Not Okay
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| RL Date: 8 May, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia has a bone to pick with K'del, which is a coincidence because so does he! It doesn't end well. |
| Where: Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr A heavy, brocade curtain separates the ledge from the weyr within, which opens up into a long, wide wallow and a walkway beside it. There's easily enough room for a bronze in here; the ceiling is high enough that sound tends to echo. Down the wall beside the walkway, small circles appear to float within the dim light like miniature moons; a high panel of them that's perhaps four or five times as long as a man is tall. They end abruptly as the wall curves around and opens out into the rest of the weyr. It's a good sized weyr, and laid out nicely with a fine collection of solid, expensive furniture. A niche off to one side offers built-in shelving and a desk set out beneath it, while much of the rest of the space has been taken up by a couch and several chairs, laid out in front of the hearth. It's reflective, that hearth, made up of squares tiled on point, many of which look very new indeed. To one side of that is a dark opening that might be another niche, or perhaps a passageway. A tunnel leads off from that dark opening - narrow, if still tall. It turns a corner and then opens out into an expansive room set against the other side of the hearth. Most of /this/ space is taken up by a bed that has clearly been made to fit the space exactly, although there's still room to step around to another niche - this one with a plugged basin above and a drain below. There are more of those moons here, too: moons that glow with light from the room beyond. To Cadejoth, Hraedhyth's drums are rarely quiet, her intensity easily felt. More so on the day those dragons refused their duties, less so for Cadejoth in particular. The queen would never reject one of her tribe, but displeasure with his actions and concern for her rider have kept her distant. Heat and volume are back with a vengeance this day, even if her already waning memories rob her of any hunger for such. « Mine hunts for Yours. » To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth's own memories would have faded, too, had his rider let them; but K'del's thoughts have been, it seems, heavily focused upon those events of a few days previous, and the bronze answers the queen accordingly, with barriers and caution. His, « And will you force me to tell you? » is not hostile, not outright, but holds a lurking distaste, however tinged with bitter humour. A moment later he assents, indicating without words that his rider is at home. He, however, is not. Those drums skip a beat, startled. It's enough to coax forth a heady floral perfume, not wholly pleasant, « I am to tell you that if I must, I will bespeak Isyath. » Less subtle is Hraedhyth's source, the words adding confused kindling to her flames. A fire that does grows hotter at mention of the Fortian junior, once again reminded. It makes her decision easier, delivering her rider and leaving Cadejoth's ledge empty with a sooty snort. (To Cadejoth from Hraedhyth) To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth will not apologise for Isyath. It's true that the Fortian's queen's stars no longer gleam from within his mental chains, and perhaps there's some disgruntlement, there, but-- no, he will not apologise for Isyath. Will Hraedhyth apologise for-- but Cadejoth has forgotten that it was Szadath who caught her, once upon a time, and so that thought trails out. Whatever. He's too busy flying. As warned, Cadejoth's not out on his ledge, but the moons further into the weyr glow-- K'del is, indeed at home, even if he's not waiting out front for the weyrwoman. Instead, he can be found in the main cavern of the weyr, sitting at his desk with his back to the entrance. Hraedhyth doesn't answer, leaving him to his flying with distant drums and disinterested smoke. If asked, the gold may not have an answer for what has just occurred. Once Azaylia is delivered, she takes to her skies, but only as long as it takes her to reach where weyrlings are training. Once past the threshold the weyrwoman gives a quiet, resigned sigh in lieu of a proper hello. Still, she came with a purpose in mind, "How are you feeling?" Given her dragon's reception, "Your nose. I was hoping it was feeling better?" No reason to think her sentiment has changed, inquiry almost tentative. K'del makes her wait-- one second, two seconds, three and even four. The sound of his pen at least gives some credence to his delay, but the sharp, hard line of his shoulder certainly echoes something of his dragon's feelings. Finally, there's the sound of his pen being set down, and he turns, still sitting, tilting his gaze to look at her. His nose is still a mess of bruising, though at least the end result is only slightly crooked; his gaze, quietly meaningfully, seems to imply 'does that answer your question?'. But it's K'del-- he can't stop himself from saying, "As you see." Even now, Azaylia is patient. She busies herself with inventory, seeing what has changed since her last visit while nerves have her forgetting all of it a second later. When K'del turns, her curiosity is quick to warp into a wince, sympathetic whimper sounding in her throat. Tension can only keep her at bay for so long, walking towards the bronzerider for a closer inspection, "He really broke it." Soft voice is even more so with, not awe, but airy surprise. With the rumors circulating the weyr, is it a wonder that she's waited to see for herself? Not much seems to have changed: there are as few knicknacks and ever, aside from a few signs of the presence of children in K'del's life. A pair of dirty workboots sit next to the entrance, thick with mud. K'del's expression doesn't change upon receipt of the goldrider's reaction, though his chin lifts just slightly. "Yes," he confirms, his tone even. "He really broke it. But it will heal. Did you need something?" He doesn't quite go so far as to call her by her title, but there's something distantly formal in his voice nonetheless. Azaylia is made aware of her concerned lean when she straightens up at K'del's tone, guilt flicking across her features for a moment. Once it passes, her lips thin with determination, gaze edging into the beginning of a stare. "I wanted to check up on a friend." Perhaps regretting it now, she decides to stand her ground. His words stir a spark that might otherwise have been successfully smothered. "And..." She takes in a breath, stealing seconds to prolong indecision until, "To ask you why you went." Exhale blows out any lingering anger or accusation, question sounding plain enough. "Why I went? Why I went?" K'del's professional distance fades into something more openly irritated, with that. He pulls himself out of his chair, shifting past Azaylia on his way to the bottle of whisky sitting on the mantle. "Why shouldn't I have gone? Cadejoth likes Isyath. She likes him. Ali's my friend. But that's not even the point." He glances back at her, now, bottle in hand. "Since when does any rider need a reason to let their dragon chase a dragon they want to chase? I'm not Weyrleader; it's no faux pas." A nod is salvaged from Azaylia's flinch as he brushes past, slow to turn and meet his irritation head on. She does, expression softened into neutrality save for the faint downwards tug of her lips. The weyrwoman doesn't have an answer for him, not yet. "What if Cadejoth had caught?" Her whisper falls flat, bordering on the rhetorical. It's not. K'del, at least, knows the answer to that. "Then we'd've spent a couple of months shifting between here and Fort, being there for Ali and Isyath, but not abandoning High Reaches. What of it? It's not like Ysavaeth really rose for the second time while her first clutch were still weyrlings." There's a note of bitterness to that, only partially masked by the way he suddenly so focusedly concentrates on pouring himself a drink. "Anyway, the way it looks now, it's not as though you want me as a Weyrleader. You seem to think everything is just fine. Maybe I should just abandon you all, see how well things are going a turn from now. Weyrleader Taikrin-- she sure knows how to manage things." It's a long speech, and having finished it, his awkward is terribly obvious. The awkward is given a long, long time to fester as Azaylia's gaze drops from his face to the distance between them. She's listening, unfocused eyes not necessarily meaning unfocused ears. "What if Cadejoth had caught," She doesn't seem to be done, for all of the rest he's said. "And Isyath, a queen, didn't want to let her mate come back Home?" All too quickly, dark eyes are on him again, "Where I do need you?" Sense is lost to fear, thoughts that she should keep to herself, "What if Hraedhyth did rise, as impossible as that is? What if something happened and you couldn't leave because you like Ali? Can you promise me that you'd be able to tear Cadejoth away? That Isyath would let you?" Her words have been gaining momentum, gaining heat until her hands are balled at her sides, "And why would you say that? That I don't want you as Weyrleader? Things aren't okay." Her voice doesn't climb quite enough to be a wail, too intense, too breathless. It's that last that K'del answers, but only after he's downed several fingers worth of whisky. "No, they're not okay. But there you are, stamping on the only damn people who are trying to stop Taikrin from destroying our relationships with all the Holds. Who are trying to keep things together." His voice raises, though it's just short of yelling. "And don't you dare say it was all about Weyr unity. This Weyr isn't united. All those damn drills did was irritate the Holds." Azaylia's upset is stifled, nearly stopped dead when K'del lays the blame so acutely felt. She has no whiskey, the knuckles of her literal fingers yellowing as bone strains against dark skin, "I..." She struggles, fighting against guilt that's far too easy to inspire, too deeply felt. "Taikrin was upset. She was yelling she... I was just trying to keep things together. It was like before, when the riders just sat on their ledges." In protest of Iolene. She rounds on him, "If you weren't irritating Fort..!" The accusation dies before it can gain any hold on her temper, shoulder's slumping. Weakly, "Even if we hadn't... Iesaryth would have made them." Could have, even if two queens wield more power than one. "That's not the point. Yes, Iesaryth would still have done it, as much as she could. But you helped. You forced us to do something that we knew was going to cause problems. You took away the free will of our dragons." Beat. "And yet here you are, upset at me for letting my dragon chase." K'del closes his eyes after that, holding the glass in his hand tightly, as though he'd really like to pour himself another drink-- but won't. "We're not your Weyrleaders. Right now, we're just another pair. We've no guarantee that we'll be Weyrleaders. Ali and Isyath wanted us there. We went. End of story." "No. You don't." As much of a guarantee as Azaylia could grant is less so now, if not gone in her upset. But, "You knew it was going to cause problems." This time it is rhetorical, though the rest isn't. "Why didn't you tell me? If you want my help, K'del, I need to know." Where others might have shame, might try to conceal their short-sighted nature, the weyrwoman opens her reddened palms and offers it willingly. "I'm trying. I'm learning what I can from Kyouri but I can't..." She gives up, frustration making her brow heavy as she fights off tears. This? This is a glare. "You're just another pair." Said for her sake, rather than his. K'del sets his glass down, though oh, he clearly doesn't want to. "What do you want from me, Azaylia?" It's simple, this time, and said largely without emotion. "Because clearly I can't live up to it. Maybe you should put your Weyrleader hopes in a different basket, and just forget me. Why didn't I tell you? Because you still listen to Taikrin." There it is, right there. "Because you still let her influence you." Watery eyes aim just off to the side, Azaylia keeping a tight hold on those tears with her narrowed gaze. There are a few attempts at answering, deciding on a quick little shake of her head. She can't answer that, not now. Quietly, "She cared. She was trying. She doesn't..." A glance towards K'del, shifting away as quickly as it lands. "Okay." Her reaction takes a lot of the fight out of K'del, who lets his shoulders slump, who closes his eyes again. "She's failing. Aren't things with the Holds bad enough, without exacerbating them over some stupid drills? Aren't things bad enough with the wings? But that's not the point." He pushes his glass away, likely just to force himself not to reach for the bottle again. "You need to figure out what you actually want. But unless you're going to demand that no High Reaches bronzes chase queens at other Weyrs, don't bitch at me for letting Cadejoth chase the one he cares about." "I... it felt like you didn't care. Like our plans... Like you didn't want..." Azaylia's words lose what little volume they have left, lips moving soundlessly for only a second longer. There's a painful jolt, closing her eyes before she straightens-- breathes in and out. Without looking at him, "Okay." As numb as the first, she gives no hint to what it is she wants, if she's figured it out so quickly. Intending to move past him, her mask is kept in tact for the "Sorry." that follows. "Of course I care," says K'del, quickly, though there's something in his voice that could, almost, for a second, suggest that he's not even sure if he does want it. But that can't be, surely, not now. "I'm sorry it upset you, but if we do end up as your Weyrleaders, Cadejoth won't get to chase Isyath. It's not fair on him, on either of them, not now." Even if Cadejoth did not, indeed, catch the Fortian queen. "I'm doing the best I can." "I made a mistake." Azaylia stops, long enough to explain what she can, voice rising to be heard as she refuses to face him. "I wouldn't have, if you had trusted me. Just because I like... liked," What could have changed? She's not likely to say, now, "Taikrin, doesn't mean I do everything she says. Did." Frustration from the tenses, of what they mean, spurns her on, "He'll get plenty of chances. I won't stop you." Far from vicious, her words hang heavy with apology as she's forced to march to get her legs to move. To the ledge, where a crimson-eyed Hraedhyth is waiting. "Zay--" begins K'del, his voice abruptly filled with an apology of his own. "Azaylia. Please." Azaylia gives a sharp shake of her head, hands rough when reaching for riding strap and draconic ridge. The shame she's managed to be kept at bay is overwhelming now, hardly the only motivation for her speedy retreat. As for Hraedhyth's fury, it is easily felt for those who seek it, otherwise muzzled. A small victory that otherwise goes unnoticed. K'del slams a fist against the table after she's gone. At least it wasn't a wall. At least he doesn't break it. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Things Are Not Okay"Nicky (Nicky (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 08 May 2013 17:17:35 GMT.
Poor Zay, poor K'del!
This scene makes the N'ky in me go D: - it was beautifully written, and with so much emotion.
Ceawlin (Ceawlin (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 08 May 2013 17:49:01 GMT.
Sooo many pathways taken that bears decisions that change the outcomes of other things.
No one's a winner, and yet almost everyone's a loser in some aspects! Very real, very good scene.
Two thumbs up!
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 09 May 2013 02:13:40 GMT.
Awwww man... Poor Zay. And it isn't nice for K'del, either. :/
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