View source for Logs:A Round And A Talk

{{Log
|Involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
|who = Azaylia, K'del
| where = A Bar Somewhere, Bitra
| what = K'del and Azaylia consider what the future might hold, and clear the air between them. Also, there's dancing. 
| day = 16
| month = 5
| turn = 32
| IP = Interval
| IP2 = 10
| gamedate = 2013.07.27
| quote = "What? ''No''."
| weather = 
| categories = General, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Ali, Lujayn, Sisha
| ooc = Forward-dated! The song that inspired Azaylia's dress/her location: [http://youtu.be/t0z64rwqhnw Sara Bareilles - Little Black Dress]
| icons = azaylia pensive.jpg, k'del explaining.jpg 
| log = There's nothing homesick in Hraedhyth's reply to Cadejoth, drums thundering to a foreign, musical rhythm. The very same beat that fills the bar as K'del walks in, feet stomping and hands clapping along with the Bitran pub song. Those who are more confident, whether naturally or due to liquor, are shout-singing along with the musicians-- none of which look harper trained. Outside, Hraedhyth is content to be still after a full day of traveling, happy to share their adventures as she feeds off the ''warmth'' of her lifemate. Azaylia hasn't had nearly as much to drink the majority, just enough to have he twirled by a man who's as gray in the beard as he is rotund. Her loose curls are left to fall to her waist, the sleeves of her dress a transparent lace pattern that covers the rest of the opaque, black fabric. Did Hraedhyth mention they went shopping? Oh, well. They did. Even as the song ends, the place stays noisy, though nothing about the atmosphere seems overly shady. Though, there are several patrons who might fall under that category.

It was a curious Cadejoth who reached out to Hraedhyth, earlier, and it's a contented one who settles to the ground here at Bitra - though he's not inclined to sit and stay. No: he sets down the precious cargo of his rider, and then launches himself skywards, sharing merry, jangling glee with 'his' queen, though he'll listen, too. The K'del who steps into the bar isn't wearing his knot, and is notable only by way of being tall and handsome-- and inclined to graciously cut in on the round, grey man. "If I may?" He's polite, at least, flashing both a brilliant enough smile before gesturing towards the floor. ''Surely'' there will be another song soon.

Whether possessive or proud, Hraedhyth doesn't mind being ''Cadejoth's'' queen as he takes to the sky, metallic din joined by her drums. When Azaylia notices K'del, it's with a wide eyed stare and a squeak far too soft to be heard. It's almost enough to alarm her previous dance partner, until the goldrider laughs off her own surprise and takes the bronzerider's hand. She can't afford to be hesitant, the next song picking up as soon as the dancers are able to take a sip from their drinks. Her curiosity is plain, adding a thoughtful quirk to her smile as they keep to the music-- and as quick as it is it doesn't leave much time to talk. Does the weyrwoman know any steps? Maybe. She's not graceless, but it seems the goal of the evening is to move her body as much as possible, whether an actual dance or just energetic improvising.

K'del barely seems to react to ''her'' reaction, unless his brilliant, beaming smile counts. Whether or not he knows the ''official'' steps, he's apparently perfectly happy to fit in with Azaylia's desires: energetic improvising works just as well, and he's graceful, in his way. Certainly, they must make an impressive pair, out there on the floor, if anyone's paying them any attention. It's energetic enough that, by the end of the song, he's apparently confident in leading them off the floor as he says, "Let me buy you a drink. We'll sit out a round and talk... but I promise we can dance more, later."

So careful is Azaylia to cling to that thought that when they finally do stop, she breathlessly blurts, "Did Sisha send you to check on me?" Without suspicion or blame, some of that curiosity fades when voiced. Otherwise, she has no objections to his offer, following K'del away from where folks are circled as there's not really a designated dancing area. "It's the one that's kind of fruity but also a little sour?" She's had enough that she doesn't quite remember the name, though luckily the 'tender remembers her.

"What? ''No''." K'del seems both surprised and faintly offended by that implication, and his denial seems, as a result, deeply genuine. "We came entirely of our own accord, I promise. But-- hang on." He'll be back shortly, and with the drinks in hand: her fruity one, and his whisky. It's only then that he says, as he hands her drink over: "Came because it seemed-- you're traveling a lot. You did it last time, too, didn't you. She's going to go up."

No relief for his answer, just more of that earlier surprise. As K'del goes to get their drinks, Azaylia chooses a freshly abandoned table, the previous pair absorbed into a larger group nearby. With so much hair loose, she's careful to lift and sweep with the back of both hands as she sits and waits for the bronzerider. "Maybe." She's not coy, accepting the drink with quiet gratitude and taking a sip. Finally, "I think she is." There's a glance as she admits it, gentle suspicion bleeding beyond Hraedhyth and towards K'del.

Sitting opposite the goldrider, now, K'del nurses his own drink in both hands. "Good," he says, calmly composed. "It's good for the Weyr, if she does. Sooner rather than later. Better for everyone if things are settled, even if-- Sisha was a good choice. That's helped a lot, I think. But better to have things settled. Have you got your eye on anyone?" There's something relatively detached about the way K'del asks that - or, rather, it's not that he doesn't ''care'' but that he's seeing himself as outside of that, somehow.

The burn in her belly won't grant Azaylia any awkward pauses, or in this case time to think before she speaks. "You followed us to Bitra to ask me about Hraedhyth?" Something that could have been done via dragon, hence her confusion. Or, the already half-emptied glass in front of her is the cause. "Even if I had a choice, Hraedhyth will pick who she thinks is best. Or she won't." Which makes perfect sense to the goldrider, judging from her easy answer. "I want a... a normal flight. Like how it's ''supposed'' to be, and that means I won't pick." Brown eyes haven't left K'del's face since that first glance, almost innocent with their hazy focus and honesty, "So if you're asking for Cadejoth to win..?" Even she realizes that isn't it, but her lips are too loose at this point.

And again: "What? ''No''." K'del's unhappy about this particular line of thought, and quietly frustrated, though he turn that glowering glance away from Azaylia, all the better to bite it back before continuing with what he has to say. "No, that's not it at all. Shells, Azaylia, is that really what you think of me? No. I wanted to check on you. We used to be friends," a long time ago, "and... she'll be caught by whoever she's caught by. I'm ''not'' seeking to influence that. Just want to make sure-- shells, I just want to make sure you're not feeling overwhelmed or anything. That you're ready, as much as you can be. Cadejoth'll chase, but I'm not trying to influence you."

"I dunno." Azaylia answers in a simple, small voice as she keeps up with that almost fascinated stare. Though not ''that'' small, in order to be heard over the perpetual noise of the bar. To make herself clear, "I mean, I don't know ''what'' to think. Last time, you yelled. I yelled. And now you're buying me a drink and..." The theme of the evening, "I don't know." Leaning forward, her elbows rest on the table to create a bridge with her fingers, tilted jaw resting atop them, "I'm... maybe I'm supposed to be?" Overwhelmed. "I want this for the Weyr. I want to... Even if it's just that Hraedhyth's older, it's ''something''. It'll help." Or so she hopes. All too quick to believe him, "Oh. Okay. It's nice, knowing you care." From the bottom of her glass, she means it.

"Did you... doubt that I cared?" K'del's brow has wrinkled as a result of that, the only part of what she says that he responds to, directly. "Because of course I care. Always have. Pretty sure that's why we argued: if I didn't care, it wouldn't have been so personal. The point stands, though. ''If'' Cadejoth catches Hraedhyth, we won't chase anyone else. We're certainly not headed down to Honshu to chase Rielsath." He sets down his glass, not entirely empty, and gives her a lingering glance. "But mostly, just want to make sure you're comfortable. That's the important thing. The rest is just... it doesn't matter."

Unintentional mimicry, Azaylia's brow pinches only as long as it takes her to realize, "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone. It was better than ''you'' leaving again." It must have made sense at the time, and while not completely lost she leaves the sentiment alone for now. Her chin rolls along the tops of her fingers, dropping down to hide behind them as she peers, voice not too terribly muffled, "I'm sorry I yelled. I... It shouldn't have mattered. But it did to me." A peek into her glass doesn't prompt her to call for a refill, responsible. Ish. "Hraedhyth will take care of me." Simple fact, though the gold outside is more interested in goading Cadejoth higher and higher with excitement not befitting a queen. "And... you? You're comfortable?"

The sentiment colours K'del's cheeks. "I resented the implication that by letting Cadejoth chase Isyath, I was betraying you," he says. "It wasn't, ever, that I intended to leave, or-- I never left. Not that time. Not since then." He reaches for his glass again, draining it in a way that suggests he's relieved to have something to do with his hands and mouth that isn't explanation or regret. "I'm sorry it upset you." Cadejoth, outside, is easily goaded, though it doesn't seem to have much to do with attempting to ''impress'' Hraedhyth: he does it for the joy of it, nothing more. "I'm... whatever happens, when she rises, I'll be okay. Being Weyrsecond has helped. It's... closure, if you like. A chance to try and help fix some of what got fucked up, some of which was my fault. If that makes sense."

"It was supposed to be..." Azaylia's confidence wavers, but only just, "Me and you. You were my Weyrleader even before Hraedhyth found me." But the youthful admiration is gone now, if not by genuine betrayal then by the implication he speaks of. "We were going to save the Weyr." Simply said, her words don't offer much in the way of subtle meanings. Her hands drop to the table, arms crossing as she leans forward for comfort rather than intent, "That's good. I'm... happy to hear that you're okay. You'll ''be'' okay." Likewise, Hraedhyth has no ulterior motive beyond Cadejoth's bliss and his joyous celebration in the air. In the moment, there is nothing but passion that has little to do with glowing hides or eggs.

K'del's expression falters. "And it could still have been. Shells, it ''could'' still be. I didn't abandon you, Azaylia. Didn't abandon that idea or that ideal." The breath he sucks in is an unhappy one, turned more unhappy when he adds, "Seems like wherever I turn, people are disappointed in something I've done - something that reminds them that I'm only human, that my actions... I'd've done anything for High Reaches. Still would. The way you talk, it's like I abandoned you, like there's absolutely no chance of my return to Weyrleadership because you've decided I'm not good enough anymore." His voice is much more sad than upset; the glance he aims at Azaylia follows suit.

Azaylia closes her eyes and gives a little shake of her head as K'del speaks, though she doesn't rightly interrupt. When she gets a chance, "That's not what I meant. I think- thought, you wanted to be a normal rider. I couldn't... I ''thought'' I couldn't depend on ''just'' you anymore." A hand lifts, fingertips resting against her temple as perception and fact battle clarity during her explanation. "It's a ''good'' thing. It's not just you, anymore. Or... anyone." Airy soprano breezes past that last, "You could still be Weyrleader, if Cadejoth caught her. And that... wouldn't be a bad thing." Despite misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and under the assumption that Hraedhyth will rise in the near future.

K'del sucks in a breath through his teeth but finally gives a little nod. "My point wasn't that I ''wanted'' to just be a normal rider, but that I ''was'' one: just a Wingsecond. Maybe that was wishful thinking on my part; maybe I'll never just be a normal rider, to some people. But..." He breaks off, stops, and then gives her a little smile. "You're probably right, though. If we'd gone on the way we had, and he hadn't won, it'd-- it'd leave you off kilter. As it stands, ''if'' he wins, that's one thing, and if he doesn't, then, well, you're ready to find a balance with someone else. And even if I'm not Weyrleader, I'm still here for High Reaches, and for you. If you need me."

Peeking through the gaps of her fingers up at him, "I'm the Acting Weyrwoman. I might be... well, more than that. If we're right." Other than just stating the obvious, "That means I get to be here for you too." Azaylia's hand drops, returning K'del's smile with a gentle curl of her lips, "But, that's good to hear. I don't need you to save the day," Self deprecating, in its own way, her smile grows, "But I'll always need a friend." Before the harsh truth of it can grab hold, "Want another?" A glance for his glass, before the goldrider intends to drag him back out for more dancing.

That, abruptly, makes K'del grin. "Yes, ma'am," he says, with some evident pleasure. "You've--" He might have intended to say 'grown up', but that's clearly not what he really ''means''. "You're going to be a great Weyrwoman, you know that? But-- reckon I'd ''rather'' dance with my Weyrwoman, if you please. More than a drink. Since we're here." And since, finally, the air is clear between them - more or less. Whatever comes? They're good. (At least for now).

Meanwhile, outside, Hraedyth is daring Cadejoth to do 3 flips in a row.

And Cadejoth BETS he totally can.





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