Logs:Trouble With Perspective
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| RL Date: 2 July, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Ekoth, Rasavyth, Azaylia, Hraedhyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia tries to comfort a rattled K'zin while dragons feed and chat. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, L'hai/Mentions, U'by/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Ekoth played by K'zin |
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| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. While it's true that riders are being encouraged to take their dragons outside of the Weyr to hunt, there are those who feed at the feeding grounds. For some, it's a simple lack of time to take the trip out; for others, it's that they couldn't catch a beast if it weren't somewhat wrangled already. Rasavyth is a clever dragon. His hunting tactics have evolved largely around hunting when there's another dragon hunting. This is his tactic now as green Ekoth skillfully takes down her prey, sending a bunch of bovines charging as a herd. It's into the herd that Rasavyth dives, coming up with a plump one out of the bunch. Ekoth is not too consumed with her meal not to cast a look back over her lime-salt hide to see the catch. Amusement is evident in her whirling gaze. Rasavyth isn't showing off, of course; hunting is a serious (and troublesome) business for the slender bronze. Ekoth's rider, U'by, is nowhere to be seen, but K'zin is leaning on the tall fence of the pens, watching Rasavyth's progress, expression blank. Movement in the pens. Hraedhyth launches from on high, abandoning the company she keeps in favor of gliding towards the feeding pens. Azaylia's progress across the bowl is interrupted by the sight of her dragon in the air, jaw tilted at a curious angle. The tawny queen chooses to land outside the fence, simply watching as green and bronze feed. While her focus might be unsettling, as intense at it always is, there's no sign of aggravation or a reason to worry. It takes longer for the Acting Weyrwoman to arrive, not at all winded judging from her steady, visible breaths. "K'zin." Friendly and certainly warm, trying to make up for where Rukbat fails, though it is visible in the sky. « Hello, Hraedhyth! » Ekoth's sweet voice is the first to pay the gold mind, once her meal is finished. The focus of the hunt shifting to an airy simplistic state as the green glides over the fence to the 'audience' side. « Are you well today? » Such openness and authenticity always in the green's touch. She truly wishes to know. Rasavyth's attention comes moments later as he finishes off his meal and hunkers down to take in the state of the pens. « Why, Hraedhyth, » His tenor purr comes, more soft than usual. « You are looking quite fine. Did you come to hunt? » There's an edge of hopefulness to his tone; hunger unable to be hidden beneath. K'zin's gaze pulls from the dragon to find the speaker. The voice is familiar, so there's no surprise or recognition to be found in his face when his eyes find her. "Weyrwoman Azaylia," His baritone is welcoming, but not particularly warm. "Not buried under paperwork today?" It's asked with a lacing of humor, a small smile, but one that does nothing to lift the dark and heavy look of his brown eyes. Hraedhyth's drums rally her troops for a volumous roar, matching the green's energy, « Ekoth! » As if she needs an excuse to be loud. « I am! » Well. « I was visiting Kolniveth. He is still strange. » The savvy bronze quite her opposite in a variety of ways, but still preferred company from time to time. « You? » Her drums do not quiet, and yet the queen still manages to hear Rasavyth's soft purr, « No. » Now her focus is on the bronze, gaze dropping to the 'beast at his feet, « Do not waste. Eat all you can. » Not an accusation but a reminder, and likely the reason she's watching. Azaylia climbs up onto the fence next to K'zin, arms crossed atop a post, "Senior Weyrling K'zin." An echo of his formal tone, a gentle tease. "I am, but I thought I'd make sure Hraedhyth wasn't harassing anyone. I'm allowed little breaks." Her bright mood outshines his, making the contrast all the more obvious and prompting a soft, "How are you?" « I am pleased. » That Hraedhyth is well, of course. Ekoth's serenity rides the tide of Hraedhyth's drums and volume. « Kolniveth. I know him. Do I? I do. No? » She seems unsure. Memory has always been one of her weaker points. But the fact that she can't seem to remember doesn't seem to bother her. Instead, predictably. « I try to be my best. I have helped Rasavyth hunt today. » The conversation isn't something she's keeping just between the gold and herself, as evidenced by the bronze's interjection, « Very helpful of you, my dear Ekoth. Though I could have done it myself. » This seems to amuse Ekoth. Anyone who's watched Ras hunt knows why: rare is the day that he's successful on a hunt by himself. « I do not waste. » He notes politely, though neither is he enthralled by eating the dirty herdbeast as he bends back to the carcass. It's necessary even if he would rather it be otherwise. "Oh, well, she's the lifemate of the acting Weyrwoman now," K'zin observes, nothing changing with the combination of humor and undercurrent of distance. "She can bother whomever she likes now and there's no one but you who can say she ought do otherwise. Does it feel different to her?" Then looking to the rider instead of her dragon, "Does it to you?" As for how he is, there's a general shrug paired with an easy-going smile. « You should. » Hraedhyth supplies, perhaps taking it upon herself to promote the bronze. But then, everyone should know everyone. They are a tribe, after all. The gold doesn't share in Ekoth's amusement, stating plainly, « He would have managed eventually. » She tries to encourage Rasavyth, though her brutal honesty may not be a good fit. « If you are still hungry after you are done, I could help you hunt. » If he'd like. Azaylia's smile fades some, the distance in his voice perhaps overshadowing the humor. "It's... not like that." With a glance towards all three dragons, she's even more quiet, "No. It wasn't different when Aishani was Acting, either. They're equal and will be until the next Flight." Only one, she hopes. "For me? Kind of. I... feel like I can actually help, now. Try to fix things. It's also really... It's scary. Having so many people depend on you." That shrug earns him a tilt of her head, curiosity obvious even if she doesn't say. Yet. « If you think so, then I will, if I do not. » Ekoth is placid in her response but seems perfectly pleased to take the gold's suggestion about Kolniveth. It's no surprise either when she readily agrees that Rasavyth would have managed eventually. Rasavyth doesn't seem particularly pleased by the qualifier 'eventually', though 'managed' seems to be an apt verb as far as he's concerned. As for if he will still be hungry when he is finished, he leaves that open ended, after all, he won't know until he gets to that point. "Sorry," K'zin is quick to apologize, expression shifting to a small frown insted of the right-side-up version. "I didn't mean to imply--" Then there's a shrug and a head shake. "I know it's different for them. Simpler. Biological. Basic. It's us who have the more complicated task since none of us wear such obvious colors on our skin." He reaches up to push his fingers through his hair. "You can help now." He tactfully does not address whether or not she could have done so before this point. "You seem to be doing pretty well to me," Pause. "Though..." He purses his lips, "The wingleader meetings..." He begins and then trails off. As a Silver Threader, he's permitted to attend and has seen some of the discord. "Sorry. Shouldn't bring up something like that, probably." Hraedhyth seems satisfied, drums content in their constant pounding as she socializes with her clutchmate and watches Rasavyth feed. K'zin's frown inspires a faint, downward curl of Azaylia's own lips, "It's... okay." The weyrwoman slowly turns her head back to the senior weyrling's bronze, jaw resting on top of her crossed arms. Quietly, "Thank you." Even as he adds the one glaring flaw in this new regime, all she does is give a soft, resigned sigh. "I know... I was close to a decision, but the meetings... they shed some new light on things." Lifting her head, her eyes slide over to K'zin without fully turning her head, "You can bring up whatever you'd like. You aren't the first." Or so she's been finding out. Perhaps unexpected, K'zin lets a sad sort of chuckle slip out, "Yeah, but I'm just a weyrling. Just watching what happens. I shouldn't be bothering the Weyrwoman, especially on her break. I'm really-- I'm just not doing well this seven with all this stuff." He swallows, "I get that it's important, obviously, that we have a good Weyrleader, because you'd be overwhelmed doing it all on your own, and more than just you needing it, they need it." He looks to the bronze, green, and in the end Hraedhyth, too. "But. I just... I'm having trouble with perspective." His arms wrap around his front, half hugging his torso, body language telling of embarrassment and discomfort. None of the shock on her face is heard in her voice, a quiet but sharp utterance of, "K'zin." Her expression softens after, boots shuffling her to the side, closer to him so that she can place a hand on his arm. "I don't think that at all. None of you are just anything, and you won't even be weyrlings any more." Soon, but not quite yet. "And you're not bothering me." Just as firm as the rest, though this time paired with a soft stroke of her thumb on his bicep. Leaning her head to the side, she'll look up at his face with open concern, "But something's bothering you. I'd like to help..." Her hand pulls away at that obvious discomfort, only to move closer so that their elbows are near to touching. Physical comfort, at least, should she not be able to help with, "What trouble?" K'zin wants to be comforted, there's a subtle lean of his body toward the goldrider, but something in him holds him back from really accepting her overtures. It might seem a sudden change of topic, but perhaps it relates: "Have you ever known someone who's died in some horrible way?" A pause, "Did you know Iolene, before?" It takes Azaylia some time to consider her answer, "I don't..." His mention of Iolene makes answering much easier, "Yes. Murder. And, yes. I... not as well as some." There might be a hint of accusation in her quiet murmur. "She was nice. Sweet. I liked her, when we spoke, even if she saw things differently. It seemed like she didn't like a lot of things about the Weyr, thought they didn't make sense." With a little shake of her head, the Acting Weyrwoman breathes a slow sigh. "I could be remembering wrong. Why do you ask?" Instead of answering the goldrider's questions, after he takes in her answers, eyes watching her face intently, head turned toward her, K'zin asks in a voice husky with his intensity, "Did you see her body?" Suddenly though he's looking at her, he doesn't seem to see her. His expression is haunted and far away. "No." There's no relief in her answer, Azaylia closing her eyes and swallowing. "I... A dragon shared. Hraedhyth saw. I saw. But I didn't see it. Her." Not in person, not in front of the goldrider. "I was still sick." All over the bowl floor, some might still be able to recall. "So was I." K'zin's voice is barely a whisper, eyes focusing on Azaylia's. "Ras was keeping me calm, my stomach calm, so I could do what was needed, and then he let up..." And then the meal was revisited on the beach. His eyes slide closed, "It's dark. And I'm swimming. And I bump into something, and then another something, and another. I bring the glow closer and it's them. Bloated. Dead." He swallows hard and abruptly Rasavyth is leaving the corpse and gliding to land on the rider-side of the fence, crooning softly, eyes whirling with concern. The man? He trembles, hands tightening in their hug around his torso. When Azaylia opens her eyes, she finds K'zin's focused gaze waiting for her, her own kept steady. For his sake. "The shipwreck?" She can only guess, hope that it's the only contact the senior weyrling has had with such gruesome death. "Oh, K'zin." She leans over to press into his arm, one arm resting across his back in order to reach his furthest shoulder. The other slips forward to find one of his hands, limbs trying to give the large weyrling a tight squeeze. Her cheek rests on his upper arm, sliding in a turn as she aims that concerned glance towards Rasavyth, the soothing "Shhhh." meant for both dragon and rider. "I feel like I can't focus on anything else." K'zin murmurs, the fingers of his hand twining with hers, though that's the only part of him that seems willing to take the solace offered. He doesn't shrug her off, or anything, but he doesn't lean into the comfort she's offering as he had so willingly once before in this place. "I'm trying to get my head back in the game. This is the time when Wingleaders are watching. But I don't even know if they're noticing anything other than who's pretending to be Weyrleader and what political maneuvering they're doing, and then there are bodies. Dead bodies. People. Murdered people who don't get justice. Because people would rather just forget. Or ignore. Or both." By the end, his intense frustration leaks through. The trivial way of politics when there are bigger things in the world. His muscles all tighten; he might as well be made of stone. Azaylia doesn't pull away, fingers slipping into his and simply offering her support, whether it reaches him or not. "I don't blame you. Nobody should. Wingleader's shouldn't. I wonder how many of them have seen what you've seen?" Never mind K'zin's valid point when speaking of politics and how it blinds some people. The tension in his body only encourages her to squeeze tighter, "If I could, I would try to find who was responsible. I'm not trying to be selfish, K'zin. Please understand why the Weyr comes first." Not politics, but, "The people here count on me. Us." It's limiting, and there might be a hint of her own frustration. But, "You're not going to forget." From the way she says it, it counts for something. "You..." K'zin starts, slowly, quietly. He shifts, turning to take up her other hand, holding them between them, his eyes searching hers, deep. "Do you really mean that? That you would try to find out who was responsible? Do you mean just the ship or-- things-- closer to home?" Just because he never saw Seani's dead body doesn't mean the lack of justice there gnaws at him any less. "You said to me that you feel like you can do things now. And you can. Only... I wouldn't want you to compromise your position, politically." Those games again. "Not unless there's really something to be found something to be known." He chews his lower lip uncertainly. "K'zin..." Azaylia murmurs, both hands in his and turned to keep her balance on the fence she's still perched on. "If things were stable, if there had been a Flight and a proper Weyrleader. A proper Senior Weyrwoman." The self deprecation goes without notice, "We would have what we need to investigate that sort of thing. I can do things, but... only so much." For that very game that frustrates them both, that he's come to loathe. She doesn't turn her brown eyes away from his, her honesty strained only by that worry for him as well as High Reaches Weyr as a whole. The latter is a constant. "We're in a very... scary place right now. I, we, can't afford to do anything that might make things worse." Her grip tightens on his hands, "That doesn't mean that you shouldn't try, just... Be careful. We can't have anymore tithes shorted." Can she be blamed for her concern, given the actions of certain weyrlings? "I'm not doing anything that will get our tithes shorted. If anything, I'm trying to get you something that might help soothe hurt feelings. I--" K'zin hesitates, "Zay, is there a chance that there might be sometime when you accidentally forget to lock away the sealed records about certain murders that took place at this Weyr? I'm not-- trying to get us into hotter water, I just want some justice, but I won't seek it if it ends up costing the Weyr. I'd have a much better idea if that would be the case if there was a time like that? Maybe a time when you were going to meet with me?" He realizes what he's asking, and that's probably why his breath is shallower now. She wants justice too, obviously, but would she trust him to pursue it? It's now that Azaylia pulls away, uncertainty flickering in her eyes and across her soft features. "Accidentally." Not quite an accusation, but a drop of suspicion audible in that single word. "Things like that, they're locked away for a reason." The weyrwoman is obviously uncomfortable with what he's asking, but she doesn't let go of his hands. Her head does lower, eyes looking but not seeing, "Tell me what you want to know. Which record you're looking for. And I'll see if... if it's a good idea. I can't-- won't give you special treatment." Now she looks back up at him, soft and yet stern, "You're free to ask to see them. It needs to be in writing, and Giorda might have questions... But if you want this, we have to do it right. Not accidentally." K'zin gives a simple shake of his head, his hands sliding from hers, "No, ma'am. That'd make it on record. Which has dangerous implications. It's one thing if it's a rogue weyrling, it's another if it's a sanctioned inquiry." The bronzerider pushes a hand through his hair, "One has much more substantial implications than another." He straightens, turning toward his dragon, "I've-- got to take him to the springs, to wash his face." It does have blood all over it. "I'll get the bones first." Waste not. He looks back to the goldrider, hesitating, perhaps uncertain of what to say. "There's nothing wrong with asking questions. With wanting to know the truth." The Acting Weyrwoman doesn't hide her confusion at his answer, looking quite baffled. "I don't know what's dangerous about asking to see a record." But she won't press, Azaylia's curiosity outweighed by her concern for the fragile state he's in. Pulling her hands back, one does linger to pat his arm, "You know you can always come to me. I'll listen. Hraedhyth, too." Even if there isn't anything they can do. With a soft smile, the goldrider hops down from the fence and turns to resume her interrupted journey across the bowl. "Some," K'zin says quite softly and in a way that shows he's exercising self-restraint, "-would disagree with you, Weyrwoman." But he doesn't elaborate on that, stony expression obviously telling there's no answer forthcoming. "I-- appreciate it, Weyrwoman. We both do." But for all those words, there's only silence from the pair as K'zin goes to climb onto the bronze's neckridges and wing away. As they go, it is Ekoth, with her eerily accurate insight that announces, « They are not their best. » A pause. « But they are trying. » |
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