Logs:Worry And Care
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 3 February, 2014 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia voices her concern about K'del being split between family and the Weyr. There's plenty of fretting for Cadejoth's sake, too. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions |
  |
| Weryleader's Weyr As low to the ground as this ledge is, the view it affords is not an especially spectacular one, simply the bowl spread out in front of it, still some distance down. The ledge itself is a large one, easily big enough for a full grown queen and at least one, if not two, others, the stone worn smooth by turns and turns of steady use. A brocade curtain shelters the inner caverns from the outside. 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.
His rider may be camping down there, but Cadejoth still prefers loftier positions: he's only now returning from an evening sojourn over the mountains, settling down within his own wallow, high upon the bowl wall. For Hraedhyth, he has a rattle of bone and chain, her heat electrifying his metal. « She sleeps, » he confirms, casting his own thoughts down towards his rider to check. « He doesn't. You would be welcome. » Both of them. As Cadejoth returns, Hraedhyth offers her heart's hearth as a warm welcome. She'll melt whatever frost may cling to his chains, and gives a snarl of greeting as she touches down onto his ledge. Seems the queen has made her choice. Below, Azaylia makes the short trip from her weyr to the Weyrleader's, a mug in each hand. She's quick about it to save bare feet from winter's chill, otherwise snuggly wrapped in a pink and blue housecoat. "K'del?" Gentle voice is even quieter now, peeking in before she shuffles on in. "I brought klah." An odd drink for evening, but knowing her roommate's addiction, there's always a fresh pot of the stuff in her weyr. Cadejoth's smug pleasure is warmed further by Hraedhyth's own personal heat, both mental and physical; his wallow is plenty big enough for the both of him, and though his hide is chilled, he's equally heated by the exertion. It was good flying, tonight. He's pleased. K'del's wearing heavy wool socks on his feet, and an ancient sweater that's still amazingly long in the sleeves; he's curled up on the couch that was once his, some reports in his lap, though his gaze is upon the fire in the hearth. The weyr doesn't look especially lived-in, though the usual baby detritus is visible-- even if Iska herself must be stowed away in the bedroom. "Azaylia. Come on in. Want some whiskey in that klah?" Cadejoth's pleasure is kindling to her own as Hraedhyth follows him into his wallow, aggressive snuggling even more so against his cold hide. There's a huff of relaxation-- at least Cadejoth never squirms, or complains. Azaylia's smile is hesitant at first, but quickly grows warmer as she nears the couch, "I thought about carrying a bottle under my chin." What with both hands being full. She sets both mugs down in order to find a spot on the couch, sitting on frosty toes in order to warm them. There's consideration for his reports, nudging one closer to where he's seated so she doesn't accidentally smush it. No, Cadejoth never complains. Why would he? This is very comfortable indeed! K'del hastily shoves the reports out of the way, dropping them to a pile upon the floor - which says something either about their importance, or his willingness to not be doing work. The whiskey bottle is retrieved from the mantle, somewhere it's clearly been stowed so as to keep it well out of the way of semi-mobile children. And; "That would've been quite a sight," he agrees. "But mine'll do perfectly well." One of the doctored mugs is offered back; having relinquished it, K'del moves to sit at the other end of the couch. Azaylia reaches with both hands for the tampered mug, fingers flexing in silent demand. She gathers the drink close and takes a sip, peeking over at K'del as she does so, "Thank you." It might not start out as an uncomfortable silence, but as the seconds tick by and she continues to stare... well. With a quiet rush, still mindful of the sleeping infant nearby, "Cadejoth seems happy, tonight." The words are murmured from behind her mug, "Much better than, uhm. A month ago." A larger sip. If K'del is uncomfortable, at all, it seems to be as a result of Azaylia's discomfort; there's a frown, beginning to form about his face, one that lingers even after she's gotten to the point. He takes a sip from his own mug, swallowing the hot, liquored liquid carefully. "A month ago," he repeats, not confused, but certainly cautious, his head tipping forward ever so slightly: expectantly. Perhaps she'll enlighten him. If only it were whisky with a splash of klah, things might be easier for the Weyrwoman. Azaylia takes in a big breath, setting the cup down onto her lap before she lets the air out in a determined sigh. "During Isyath's flight. I... We could feel how upset he was. It was awful." Echoes of her empathy have her giving a faint flinch, though she presses on, "I don't want him to have to go through that, again." There's worry in the way that she glances over at K'del, not quite fear, watching for his reaction. Rather than look at Azaylia, K'del turns his gaze back towards the hearth, which makes his reaction rather more difficult to read: his expression is impassive. "It was awful for me, too," he says, simply. "Isyath reached out for him. She was calling him, and I wouldn't let him answer. But," abruptly, he turns his gaze back towards Azaylia. "It won't be a problem, in future. Either he'll catch Hraedhyth, when she rises, and then he'll have less interest in other golds. Or he won't, and... it just won't matter." There's something brittle in his tone, and perhaps it's not so difficult to guess that it relates to their argument from last time Isyath rose. Azaylia's concern shifts to include tightly thinned lips, disapproval of Isyth's habits obvious but not voiced. "I can't imagine." Of course there's sympathy for K'del, too. A second flinch for his hard tone, and no doubt her own caution is born from memories of that argument as well. "I don't... I'm not trying to..." Another quick breath, "I'm still worried. It made me think. A lot." Given that it's taken her a month to bring it up. "I-- I'm worried about you. The both of you. And the Weyr." Since he's already voiced the intent to let Cadejoth chase in Hraedhyth's next flight. K'del's exhale is a lengthy one, though at least he's looking at Azaylia, now, over the rim of his mug. "You don't need to be worried about me," he says, quiet but sure. "Or Cadejoth. And... if you're so worried about the Weyr, because Cadejoth happens to like a queen outside of it, then chances are he won't win anyway, so you've nothing to worry about." It might be a bit of tangled logic, but the bronzerider seems determined with it. "We love this Weyr. Yes, he likes Isyath. She likes him, too. But that won't stand in the way of his desire to have his pack back, properly; and it won't stand in my way, either, no matter how much I care about Ali. High Reaches is our home." At first, Azaylia seems startled. Airy soprano follows his words in a quiet rush, "K'del, this isn't about Isyth and Cadejoth. I mean, it started out that way." As she said before, what with Hraedhyth being so deeply connected to the members of her tribe. "I know you love this Weyr. And you're a doing a good job as Acting Weyrleader." That caution returns, "I'm worried about later. If... Cadejoth catching is what's best." Soft gaze shifts from K'del's face to just over his shoulder, aimed at the bed chambers where Iska might be. "Things are working now, but... If something happens, I don't want you to have to chose." Between Ali and High Reaches Weyr. When she looks back at him, there's a faint furrow of effort, trying to make herself clear, "I'm scared. Things don't always work like they should... I don't want you or the Weyr to be hurt by it." Whatever the looming 'it' may or may not be. Instead of answering, K'del stares into the depths of his klah, studying the dark liquid. "But by saying that, Azaylia," he says, his tone affectionate as much as it is unhappy, "you're asking me to choose. Or making my choice for me, maybe." He looks up again, towards the end of that, giving her a studying glance. "Not saying it isn't difficult, or that there aren't problems with it. Not saying it's easy. But there are always going to be complications. Ali and I both put our Weyrs first; we have to. That's the best I can do." "I've never tried to sway Hraedhyth's decision. But, I could. I almost want to..." There's some guilt in Azaylia's confession, "If one person is worth what you both go through, I..." Her breathless laugh doesn't hold any humor, more of a gentle scoff for her confusion, "I guess I just don't understand it all." It's easy to admit, and in doing so she's able to regain some composure. "I'm not asking you to choose. I don't mean to, at least." The goldrider clarifies, deciding that her cooling klah is better for drinking than staring. After a generous gulp, "I guess I just wanted to... say it. We care about you. Both of you. And a Weyrleader should put his Weyr first." In that, she at least sounds satisfied-- if still somewhat uncomfortable. K'del's nod serves as answer, at first. Then, finally: "I appreciate it, Azaylia. That... you care, and that you worry about us." He obviously means to say more, but pauses, first: to take a sip from his mug, to turn that mug in his hand, and finally, to sigh. "Can't say it's a lot of fun, when it comes to this kind of thing. Relationships are hard. But..." his smile is small, but genuine. "Worth it. Still... I do mean it, when I say the Weyr comes first. Until there's another Weyrleader, whenever that is, soon or turns from now. Cadejoth's sixteen turns old, more or less today, and he's liked plenty of dragons... Hraedhyth included. He won't pine. And if there's a problem... if there's ever a problem... we'll tell you. Okay?" Azaylia is an outsider looking in, head tilted in youthful curiosity as K'del speaks. "It doesn't look very fun." She adds, perhaps the only hint of her true thoughts on monogamy in general. Talk of Cadejoth coaxes a smile out of the goldrider, affection poured into her quiet murmur of, "Poor old man." It gives her heart enough to continue, "I'll keep letting Hraedhyth decide." Or, chance. Whichever is more of a driving force behind Leadership Flights. The Weyrwoman gives a nod, voice firm, "Please. We want to help. If he ever... if you ever have to do that again. Even if you aren't Weyrleader. She could make it easier on him." It's an offer left open as she eases back, this time with a sigh of relief. At least there's no yelling, this time. "There are benefits," promises K'del, with just the faintest twitch of a smile. His head doesn't turn towards the bedroom - indeed, there's no hint of movement, even - and yet something about his smile suggests his baby toddler is one of those benefits. "I'll do that," he confirms, at the end. "Wasn't something I'd thought of. Didn't... think she'd reach for him, not when we'd been staying away." Live and learn, his expression suggests. The lack of yelling seems to soothe him; he smiles. From there, no doubt conversation will be easier - the bronzerider seems willing to make it a social visit, for as long as the goldrider wants to stay. With renewed confidence comes skepticism for those benefits, even if it's more playful than anything. Another nod, "Good." With her point made and her worries soothed, Azaylia is lulled into much lighter conversation. She might interrupt with a wiggle of her empty mug, a suggestion that they cut out the klah. Thankfully, the walk to her own weyr is a short one, even with whisky warming her belly. |
Leave A Comment