Logs:Weyrling Visitor
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 22 May, 2014 |
| Who: K'del, Lilah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del plays host when Lilah visits High Reaches. |
| Where: Bowl / Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 11, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Astivan/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, C'wlin/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
  |
| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. Despite the fact that they do not come alone, Eliyaveith has been attentively polite, announcing herself and seeking permission to enter territory belonging to foreign queens so that the more-than-half grown golden dragon doesn't come as a surprise when she appears from Between. A weyrlingmaster accompanies her, though the green is already far smaller than the dragon that at first could be mistaken for a small bronze, especially in the blanket of grey that covers the sky above High Reaches. She wings down to the Bowl with powerful strokes of wings, no fancy acrobatics here as she settles down to discharge her rider onto the unfamiliar soil. Lilah seems unsure of herself for a moment, a brief second, a glance shot in the direction of her weyrlingmaster. But, she must eventually consder that someone might be watching, because that uncertainty melts away quickly as she turns to check on Eliyaveith's straps. Cadejoth may not be Weyrleader-in-fact, with Hraedhyth yet to rise and confirm or deny his position, but he overseas the Weyr with a certain amount of paternal authority nonetheless -- and today, soars far above the famous spindles, keeping watch over the cloud-blanketed Weyr below. Eliyaveith's arrival draws interest, as a result, in the form of some rattled chains of acknowledgement: the faintest howl of wind and air. On the ground, it's his rider who approaches, the tall, blond-haired Weyrleader meandering across the bowl a few minutes after the Fortians first appear overhead. "High Reaches' duties to Fort," he calls, hands slung loosely into the pockets of his jacket. Sun and fire and warmth meet wind and air, the landscape of Eliyaveith's mind as bright and curious as any teenager's could be expected to be. On the ground, her head tips up, jeweled eyes tracking across the skies to find Cadejoth there before searching out the rest of the Weyr, studying what she can see. "Fort's duties to you, Weyrleader," Lilah replies, her fingers lingering in a light grip against Eliyaveith's straps even as she turns to meet the oncoming man with a tip of her head. She adds in explanation, for all that he didn't ask, "We are working on our points Between. Hopefully you and your Weyrwoman do not mind." « Hello! » says Cadejoth, turning his gaze downwards to seek out Eliyaveith upon the ground, his wings flaring as he adjusts his path, angling towards the rim. « You should explore. It's what I would do. Test your wings in our winds. » Where 'our' is really 'my'; there's something terribly possessive about the way he says it. "Not at all," says his rider, inclining his own head forward. Lilah's companion, too, gets a glance, but the weyrling - a somewhat known quantity - earns the bulk of his attention. "Pretty sure I encouraged you to visit, once you could, way back when. She's looking good, your queen." Eliyaveith stirs away from being Lilah's support as Cadejoth bespeaks her, leaving her rider without as she hunches up and then launches herself skywards even as she answers the bronze politely, « I will join you, in your winds. It is colder here. » And that comes with a hint of displeasure, the flare of fire in her mind attempting to compensate for the difference in their air even as she climbs into the sky, a pin-point of dark against grey. She adds, complimentary, « But very pretty. Those are very pretty. » She doesn't have the name for them, but she shares the images of the spires with Cadejoth to identify them. A hint of a smile catches at her rider's lips at K'del's comment, likely the only reason Eliyaveith has abandoned her, as Lilah answers, "You did, once. I am surprised you remember. You were drinking and it was a while ago. Or, well, maybe it only seems like a long-time ago if you are a weyrling with lessons, and growing dragons, and all of the things that accompany that." Without straps to hang on to, her fingers lift instead to rake back curls that have escaped. Cadejoth banks away from the rim, now that he's got company, answering Eliyaveith with a buzz of electricity that runs up and up and up his mental chains. « The seven spires, yes. » His. « It will be winter, soon, and then it will be even colder. You don't like the cold? » He, Cadejoth, was born to the cold; he revels in it, and in the sensation of those winds beneath his wings as he soars higher. "Once upon a time,"K'del tells Lilah, with a laugh, "I'd've answered that comment of yours with something about never forgetting a pretty face, or something. You'll be pleased to know I grew out of that. But no: I remember. How are those lessons going?" His gaze lifts, briefly, after her dragon and his; "Can offer you klah or some such, if you'd like." « I do not like the cold, » is somewhat of a mild understatement, though Eliyaveith follows it with warmth and light and the cast of her own gold chains that start to twine around Cadejoth's as he joins her. They do not quite bind, but welcome the company. « When I was young, the cold hurt. I was born in winter, and she tells me that it hurt. » "Once upon a time, I might have answered that comment with a disbelieving laugh, but I am a representation of my Weyr now. And part of that is being polite, I hear," Lilah answers, humor brushing along the edges of her own words though she does not quite laugh. It is reflected in dark eyes that draw over K'del, even as she nods. "I would appreciate a cup, please. I can bore you with all of the details of my lessons, if you'd really like." « I'm sorry to hear that, » is genuine, if a little bewildered; Cadejoth can't seem to quite grasp such a concept. « K'del says I was also born in the winter, and that we slid on the ice. » There's no ice, yet, and even if there were, he would be - very sadly - far too large and heavy for such things. « I like the warm, too, though. We visit Southern. » Company: company is very good indeed. In the process, he provides a running visual commentary, identifying points of interest here and there. "That's what they tell me," agrees K'del, with a grin. "Polite and dignified." He tilts his head towards the distant caverns, encouraging Lilah to follow him. "Pretty sure anything would be less boring than the reports I've been writing, though I'd rather not have you bored in the telling." "Well, the lessons and training are all new to me, at least. You've already been through it, nevermind however many weyrlings classes you've had since then," Lilah counters, that smile briefly reappearing in the corners of her lips as she follows K'del obediently in the direction of the caverns, sparing only one last glance into the skies to find her dragon. "And they are almost over in a month or so, until it is just lessons in my duties as a weyrwoman." « We will go to Southern. Soon. » Eliyaveith brightens at that thought, at the warmth she's heard of Southern. She adds, as if Cadejoth does not know, « And I will see my sister there. » Her memory of Isyath is limited, far too limited to share more than the idea of sister, of family, with the other dragon. "Hate to think how many," says K'del, with a laugh, making a show of counting on his fingers, running out, and then giving up in 'disgust.' "Not sure I remember the classes themselves all that clearly, though certainly some of them... surrounding experiences and emotions? Are you looking forward to your future duties? Or is it feeling pretty overwhelming?" His stride is naturally long, though he's careful to shorten it, now, even if his pace is relatively brisk. « Your sister, » acknowledges Cadejoth, who adds the sense of stars to the thoughts that lay between them: Isyath's stars. They hang from his chains, in part; « She's part of my pack, » he relates. « Which makes you part of it, too. We are all connected. » This, plainly, pleases the bronze. Eliyaveith corrects the idea of 'pack', crossing it out in her thoughts and insisting, « Family. » It seems to be a word she likes, with all the warmth that goes into it and the way she repeats it. « Family. We are family. » And she allows Cadejoth to be part of that, wrapping him into that word too as he establishes himself as part of Isyath and shares her stars. "Some of them are easier to look forward to than others. I've never been what anyone would call a... people person. The idea that I will have to interact with Lords and Ladies and make nice when sometimes I just want to light their idiotic selves on fire--." Lilah cuts herself off, flushing with a hint of color as she realizes just how much she may have overstepped the line of polite and diplomatic. And yet, she still questions to K'del after a moment, quiet as if making up for before, "Have you heard about what Lord Fort has done with his tithes?" To Cadejoth, the two concepts are clearly one and the same - pack, family, tribe, cohort - though he accepts Eliyaveith's correction without arguing it. He's pleased, clearly, by her inclusion of him; all is as it should be. « Family, then. Yes. » That flush, that abrupt halt, has K'del's expression turning rueful; the question that follows has him exhaling, carefully. "Mm," he agrees. "Heard some of it, anyway." There's a cluster of riders not far from the entrance to the living caverns. K'del's silent as they pass, acknowledging the group with a bob of his head and otherwise ignoring the way they stare at Lilah. It's as they head inside that he says, "Politics are always complicated, especially Interval politics. It gets-- not easier, so much as you get used to biting back frustration. Most of the time." Most of the time. Eliyaveith settles in to fly with Cadejoth now that she has labelled him as family. She is not the world's most graceful dragon to ever grace the skies, too large and bulky to be pretty and agile and lithe, and she does not ride the winds so much as make her own path through muscle and sheer determination to wherever she wishes to be, and that for the moment is in circles around the bronze dragon. Lilah, it seems, hasn't quite gotten used to people staring, especially people that she has never seen before and does not know. Her gaze darts over to the riders, even after she salutes their presence, and a hint of tension forms in the line of her shoulders. But, she soon attempts to turn her attention back to K'del and focus it there. She says, light enough that the underlying seriousness could be ignored, "If I weren't just a weyrling, I don't know that I would bite back the frustration. Some of these Lords and Ladies could use a good smack and being sent to bed without their super." Cadejoth, skinny even to the point of scrawniness, and not large for a bronze, seems somewhat bemused by Eliyaveith's means of flight. Not that he's especially agile: he makes no effort to duck between the spindles, for example, for that would surely be a recipe for disaster. "Sorry about that," murmurs K'del, as he leads the way through the caverns towards one of the quieter nooks, not far from the hearth. "Mmm," is a little louder, though not by much. "They're... surrounded by privilege, some of them. It's difficult; they hold so many of the cards. We can't afford to piss them off, and yet they..." He makes a face. "And they don't need us in an Interval," Lilah murmurs quietly, the simple fact made without much heat to it. Her smile twitches at the face K'del makes, even as she settles into that nook, though she adds, pressing curiously, "Yet they?" "Have no appreciation for the long picture - for the fact that they will need us again. Or," K'del's expression turns wry, "that even now, we're useful to them, if not in the same dramatic way we were during 'fall." The bronzerider rather looks as though he could say quite a bit more, but stops himself, instead lifting his hand to suggest a pause: "Let me get that klah. Sweetener? Milk?" Lilah adds with her own dry humor, "Or at the very least, they don't remember that our dragons can breath flame and they wouldn't enjoy their Holds being on fire." Not that her dragon can make flame, but still. She nods to the question, folding her hands against the table. "Both, please." "Dangerous words," says K'del, though he's laughing as he says it, mouth settling into a grin afterwards. Lilah's words are acknowledged with a nod; then, he turns to move towards the hearth, filling two mugs in order to bring them back. One is slid across the table towards the weyrling; the other, he nurses between both hands as he sits, across from her. "It's tempting, sometimes. Flame their fields-- or even just make the threat to do so, though I suspect they'd never believe we'd follow through." "I would," Lilah replies with flat seriousness, dark eyes leveling across the space between herself and the bronzerider. "Maybe just one small field, though, at first." Her hands curve around the warmth of the mug, her gaze turning to something studying as it drags over K'del's features, as if trying to read him. "What would you do, if High Reaches didn't send the entirety of its tithe?" The forward tip of K'del's head acknowledges Lilah's seriousness, and certainly seems to suggest that he believes her. His expression is not difficult to read: he's thoughtful and intense, and if not as determined and driven in his thoughts as Lilah, certainly not without sympathy towards them. "We've been there," he says in answer. "Fort's no the only Weyr to have had shortened tithes, though we're thankfully doing fine, thus far. Did we burn their fields? No. We negotiated. It was... there was some fault on our side, in that case." "Was there? What happened?" Interest permeates Lilah's words, displayed with the curve of one brow upwards even as she lifts her klah to her lips for one slow sip, though her gaze does not leave the bronzerider. She adds her own thoughts simply, "This is not our own fault. We shouldn't need to negotiate. Though, this isn't something that I will be involved with, not as a weyrling." K'del shifts in his seat, just ever so slightly uncomfortable, though he answers steadily enough. "Two of our weyrlings thought to try and lie their way in to interrogating a prisoner in High Reaches' cells." Should he be telling Lilah this? Well, it must be at least a few turns ago, now; perhaps it no longer matters. "In any case: no, it doesn't seem like it is your fault, this situation you have at the moment. Fort Hold's had some difficult turns. Astivan-- well, and of course before his time, too." Lilah replies bluntly, for all that she has never met the man, "Astivan is an idiot. I don't know about before his time, but everything, this whole mess--. It is all his own making." Interest sparks bright in the way she watches K'del, though, and if she notices the uncomfortableness, she doesn't seem to be too concerned with catering to it as she presses, "And did they, manage to interrogate the prisoner? It may come in handy, knowing if a weyrling could lie their way into a Hold. --Though, it doesn't seem as if the one had any impact on the other. Unless your weyrlings stole supplies in their infiltration." "He's young," says K'del, though the way he says it doesn't seem to build it up as an excuse. He's certainly far less young than K'del was, for example, when he was first Weyrleader-- though both certainly came to their positions at a very young age. "But yes, it seems that way." For a moment, he's silent: he takes a sip from his mug, swallows, and then answers, "They started to. There were-- a variety of lies involved. Complicated. But they got caught. In the end, we got no advantages out of it. I'd not ever condone a weyrling - or anyone - embarking upon an exercise like that." Officially. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever get tempted," is almost a joke, wry and accompanied by the twist of Lilah's lips into a smirk that is followed by an innocent sip at her klah. "Though, I doubt I'd be suited for anything that required blending in." Leaning forward slightly in her seat, she questions quietly, "Do you like it? Being a leader to your Weyr, the politics, the decisions--." K'del, certainly, smiles, though it's less broad than his smiles have been, and rather more thoughtful. "Blending in is difficult," he confirms, tone edging towards neutral, though perhaps that's because he's considering, instead, the weyrling's next question. "I do." Such a simple response, one that he lets hang in the air between them for several seconds before actually bothering to offer a follow-up. "When I first got the knot, it felt impossibly difficult - and heavy. But... yes, I like it. Like being able to get my hands in, and try and make a difference. It was hard, while I wasn't Weyrleader, or even Acting, watching other people do it. It's a heavy responsibility, but it's also a satisfying one, if that makes sense." Lilah's lips press into a thin line at the answer, a soft noise catching in her throat that attempts at something neutral. But, she is quick to follow this with a smile of her own, nodding. "Do you think he will catch, the next time Hraedhyth rises? He's never caught her before, correct?" She must be listening to gossip, or perhaps a Harper. Those pale blue eyes flick up from his klah, studying Lilah's reaction with neutrality of their own. If K'del comes to some kind of conclusion, it's certainly not obvious. "It's hard to say," he says, carefully. "No, he's not caught her. She's risen twice: the first time was a brown, Szadath. The second time, bronze Tsanth. Neither are contenders, now. We-- have supporters and opponents, but more, I think, of the former. Azaylia, however, has no particular preference in our direction. Or any direction, I think." "Does that matter? Azaylia's preference?" Lilah questions, who has obviously not yet gone through mating flight lectures. Her gaze lifts, almost involuntarily, towards where Eliyaveith must be in the air, if only she could see through rock and stone. "I wasn't under the impression that anyone's preference mattered, when it came down to it. That who I would choose will matter, whenever--." K'del hesitates, giving himself some more time to come to an answer by taking a sip from his mug. "It's not quite so straight-forward as that," is what he starts with, finally. "They say that the will of the Weyr can influence the results, certainly; they say that the preference of a queen and her rider can have an influence, too. But... if that were wholly true, Cadejoth would have caught Isyath at least once, and I'd've never been Weyrleader at seventeen. Things happen, once you're in the air." "Thing happen," repeats Lilah softly, thoughtfully. Her dark gaze lingers on K'del, unreadable depths there as she studies the man across from her. "I suppose that is as good an answer as any. Not that it matters; it will happen when it happens, and the result will be what it is. There's no use worrying about things that you can't control, is there?" She pauses, taking a slow sip of her own klah before she adds in a murmur, "Though, it would certainly be nice if you could control whether he'd catch or not." The corners of K'del's mouth twist, wryly, as he acknowledges what Lilah has to say with a nod of his head. "Exactly so," he agrees. "Doesn't make it any easier not to worry, though, I imagine. Doesn't for me, anyway. It'd-- be good to know, yes. It's difficult, living your life in waiting. Not that I'm the first to feel that; certainly not the last, either. But," he says, turning his mug idly upon the table, "if it's not to be, I've options. There's other things in my life, after all." Nonetheless, something in his expression suggests he's emotionally tied to the position, even so. Lilah's brow curves upwards in a marked question, curiosity reflected in her own expression as she suggests simply, "Southern and Ali?" Again, her dark gaze marks an intent study of the bronzerider, searching. "Would you transfer there, if you lose Weyrleadership to someone else?" K'del says, "No." It's quick: such a quick answer, even if it lacks weight or force. K'del turns one corner of his mouth up, and then clarifies, "High Reaches is my home. More than that... the assumption would instantly be that we were there to chase for that Weyrleadership; and I wouldn't. Ali needs a local. Even if we lose, Cadejoth and I will stay at High Reaches." "That may be the assumption, but it isn't exactly fair, is it? To be kept from your weyrmate based on the assumptions of others?" Lilah replies lightly, offering a simple smile in turn to the bronzerider. She adds, politely, "Regardless, I will hope for you to win Hraedhyth's flight. I'm not High Reaches, but if the will of dragonriders can make it happen, I will lend my will." K'del's, "Thank you," is genuine, even warm; certainly appreciative. "To be fair," he adds, after a moment, "I'd probably find it difficult to keep my oar out, if we were there. It was hard enough here, and I didn't have such easy access." His gaze drops again to his mug, and this time, he picks it up again, finishing the last of its contents in a single gulp. "Sadly, those reports probably do call me back. It's been-- interesting, though. You'll have to visit again, Lilah." It seems as if Lilah does not take any offense to an interaction with her being labelled as 'interesting' rather than 'nice'. Nice or fun isn't an adjective she gets often, after all. She nods, easily enough, and answers with an easy, "It may not be soon, with those lessons and growing dragons and everything that goes with it, but I will certainly try. Take care, Weyrleader." She does not finish her klah, but she does move to stand with intent to return to her dragon and her Weyr. "No, of course," says K'del, quickly, and with a smile, as he rises. "We've both busy schedules, I'm sure. Still - you'd certainly be welcome. Take care, yourself. Both of you." With that, he clears his mug, and heads off back towards the bowl. |
Leave A Comment