Logs:Where Loyalties Lie
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| RL Date: 11 May, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: A minor betrayal reveals some unsavory sentiments. |
| Where: Apprentice Dorms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 10, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mack/Mentions |
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| Azaylia didn't know how she had made it back to the dormitories with her vision so blurred by tears. It had been quite a sight, seeing the normally unhurried Apprentice tear through the bowl at full speed, refusing to give anyone the time of day. Behind her was Journeyman Mack, though he wasn't able to avoid the concerned weyrfolk's halts of his pursuit. It only helped Azaylia in gaining more ground. He'd catch up eventually, but by then the door was shut and her bulk kept it from being opened easily. Sobs could be heard on the other side, and while Mack could have forced his way in, he didn't want to traumatize his ward further. She had not taken the news as well as he had thought. "Azaylia," His voice gained power without volume, baritone felt through the wood. "Open this door." "No!" Breathless from crying as well as running, she managed to make herself audible still. The heels of her boots dug into the floor, a bit more force pushed into her shoulders. "H-how coud you..?" Hiccup, and even louder, "How could you!?" Only then did the redhaired man try the knob, surprised to find so much resistance at his attempt. "You're bein' down right silly, girl! This here's why I sent them a letter in the first place." Now, Azaylia's hands were flat on the door, turning and managing to muster some anger into her whimpers, "Without telling me?" Frustration forced the Journeyman to rest his brow against the wood, voice lowering, "I'm beginnin' to regret tellin' you anythin' at this point..." He wasn't expecting the door to open then, the big man stumbling into the dorm before he managed to straighten up. There she was, soft cheeks even puffier and wet with tears, the same look of betrayal from earlier still fresh on her face. Her jaw trembled, unable to muster up a single word while standing there, hugging herself. "Look." He started firmly only to soften his tone, palms lifted harmlessly. "Look... The 'Hall needs to know what's goin' on with it's folk. It's up t'me to tell 'em. And I don't like the way this here Weyr's makin' you act all funny." "Funny." Azaylia repeated. "Making f-friends? Being happy is acting funny?" "Maulin' me just 'cause some dragon went silly is actin' funny, Aza." Journeyman Mack's face smoothed, concern finally showing through. "I don't regret what happened. Hey," He delicately grabbed her elbow, surprised when the Apprentice jerked it away. "I don't." He found her eyes, speaking slower, "But I worry 'bout you, girl. I don't think you got what it takes to be around these..." "T-these..?" He ran a hand over his face, groaning at having to explain further. "Friends or no, they're weyrfolk. Riders that are barely better'n the trash that they're so happy fraternizing with." That same hand dropped to motion in the general direction of the Weyr. "Hell, half of them exiles are riders now, too. And I can damn well bet if it had been a proper gold up in the air, you wouldn't have gone savage yourself." Azaylia stared at him with wide eyes. She suddenly felt sick. "Pleaseleave." "Y'ain't mad still?" "I..." She swallowed, still pinning that appalled expression on the Journeyman. "No." She could answer honestly, no room for anger in her horribly knotted stomach. "Not mad." Journeyman Mack gave a satisfied nod, not bothering to reach out for her a second time. "Good. Go ahead n' sort yourself out today. Tomorrow I want you back in the stables. Y'hear?" His stride was easy, crisis averted as far as he was concerned. He paused on his way out, "'Sides, you don't even know what th'Masters are gonna say. I could be worryin' over nothin'." He gave her one of his big ol' carefree smiles, the ones that would have normally reduced her legs to jelly. Now, it was just another twist in her gut. Azaylia nodded, unable to look at him as he left, though she heard his big boots turn down the hall, and then the whistled beginnings of a work tune. She rushed to the door, closing it as quickly as she could without a slam before collapsing against it. It still took her minutes to realize that she was not alone. The Weaver Apprentice couldn't have been more than 14 turns old, staring at her with impossibly wide eyes. Awkward silence persisted until, "I... I always... uhm...hated that song." |
Comments
K'del (K'del) left a comment on Sat, 12 May 2012 03:32:35 GMT.
<3
Poor Azaylia.
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