View source for Logs:Something To Rub In Their Faces

{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
| who = K'del, Val
| where = Benden Hold Area
| what = Beer, a dice lesson, and rather a lot of exploratory conversation. 
| when = Day 9, Month 8, Turn 22
|day=9
|month=8
|turn=22
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2010.05.01
| quote = 
| weather = 
| categories = General
| mentions = N'thei
| icons = k'del.jpg
| log = The vision Visigoth sends, that day their riders agreed to meet up, is a bucolic one: a road just off Benden's main thoroughfare, plenty of room for even a bronze to land without crushing anything he didn't mean to. Off the road, there are cotholds. Beyond the cotholds, there are lengths and lengths of tilled fields, mostly with fruits and vegetables, plenty with flowers. There are even little insects, buzzing, and plenty of good warm afternoon sun should Cadejoth be inclined to rest rather than roam. Visigoth, he lets it be known, is... flexible.

On receipt of the vision, Cadejoth leans in to it, already displaying characteristic curiosity about this New Place To Visit. Not that he need imagine for long: he and his rider arrive soon after, the bronze bugling his arrival to all in (extended) earshot. His descent to that road is a circuitous one, but even he can't delay a landing /forever/: in time, he's folding his wings back, as K'del swings down to plant both feet on the road. He's barely there before his Cadejoth shoves himself aloft once more, extending encouragement to Visigoth: roaming, roaming! What else?

The insects /here/ aren't familiar enough with dragonkind to go buzzing over in hopes of fresh kills to eat off, or better yet, old ones. Besides, these would rather have flowers. So, as the tiny creatures go flying off, there are a few people peeking out of shutters, and then there's the patter of bare feet along the stone path that leads to Val emerging from under a stone archway. Barefoot. She waves, beckons really: come on! Meanwhile, Visigoth has barely cracked an eye, but now he does, bestirring his straps-less self to leap upward in a can't-be-bothered-with-grace hurtling. Roam roam roam!

K'del's still-gloved hand raises to meet the wave, but he takes his time in crossing to meet the brownrider, first, no doubt using her bare feet as an invitation, pulling off his outer riding gear and draping it over his arm. /Now/ he joins her, dressed down to loose trousers and shirt, no knot, greeting her with a cheery, "Hey, Val. Where are we?" His own straps jangle as he rises back into the air, turning on a wingtip (albeit not gracefully) as he adjusts his path to head out over fields, ever curious. << It is, >> he tells Visigoth, with a mental jangle. << A good day for flying. >>

<< Very! >> though really they all are, aren't they? Except when the wind is still... but it isn't today, and off fly the boys to go see what there is to be seen. Meanwhile, Val's got a jerk of her head by way of approval, and says, "My folks' place. The new one, anyhow," and beckons him on in. She hasn't bothered with her knot either, today, and her tunic's not only loose but long enough to nearly graze the hems of her shorts. There's shade from the arch, sun from the miniature courtyard, a glimpse of red flowers in bloom to either side of the cobbled path. Verbally she double-takes with a laugh, physically she doesn't miss a step, "Least, if you count ten-odd Turns as new. Forgot."

K'del can be forgiven for the stumbling of one foot on 'folks' place', surely? Especially if he regains his stride a moment later apparently now entirely unconcerned. Adjusting the pile of gear on his arm, his gaze twisting about to get a good feel for the place, he keeps his question casual; "How come they needed a /new/ place? What happened to the old one?"

The stumble gets a flicked glance back, but with him recovering readily enough, it's a brief one. And really, if a man doesn't watch where he's going... well. "Got promoted. And my da, well, he was just as happy to get out of his ma's place, yeah? Which reminds me... won't hold it against you if you change your name." With that helpful comment, Val leads the way past a pile of what must be Visigoth's straps and into the hold proper, giving the door a smack on her way through so it doesn't slam poor K'del in the face. It's cool in here, furnished fairly spartanly, with shelves for boots and coats and such to supplement the couch and chairs, but she heads straight through towards a rectangle of light that's an open door beyond. "Da! Where'd you go?"

"Makes--" begins K'del, before, well, there's a look of /distinct/ discomfort as the brownrider's comment sinks in. Name. Right. One big, deep breath later, however, and he's pulled his shoulders back and adjusted his stride to keep his pace steady in her wake - though he does pause for a moment to make sure the door gets closed properly once he's within. Casting a glance around, he deposits his pile of outer clothes on top of one of the shelves, then takes a half step forward, stopping short of actually following Val all the way through that openeed door. 

There's a bass rumble from outside, a dialect thicker than Val's by far, though hers slips closer into his when she answers. And then she's looking back over her shoulder: coming? Clearer is her follow-up once she's turned back, "Drop your weeds and say hello! Brought you a Weyrleader." Only she's laughing. And then she's getting a tug on the ear from what turns out to be a short, rotund, somewhat grimy man, his once-black hair grizzled but not receding. "Pull the other one, he don't look like B'doran." The man's already pushing past, aiming to cuff K'del companionably on the shoulder. "Last time she said she'd got a tanner with her, only she didn't /smell/ like a tanner, if you know what I mean. Anyhow, you're welcome and all, but I already had my beer. Got to get back to work, yeah?"

Coming, yes, though there's /another/ of those almost-stumbles at that joke of hers, even if K'del manages to keep his expression more amused than anything else. He grins at Val's father, taking the cuff with a bob of the head as he tells him, "She's full of it, your daughter-- in the best possible way, that is." Only slightly hasty, is that follow up. And then, "Appreciate the welcome, anyway. Pleasure to meet you. But of course: won't keep you from your duties."

"/Polite/," marvels her father. "Not like that bunch of..." and then Val's pushing him out, and he's letting her. "Full of it!" the man calls back once he's loose, and retrieves what indeed is a good-sized pile of weeds under one arm before disappearing around behind some low-branched trees. "Full of it," Val says, somewhere between a mutter and something owing more to a smirk, and has herself a seat at the table beneath the grape arbor. It's a little dusty, not too bad, and better, it's right next to a lidded container from which the brownrider retrieves two sweating bottles of the promised beer. K'del gets one and, spilled from somewhere that couldn't have been up her sleeve, a pair of dice. "No names. I /am/ impressed."

Well-raised holder boy that he is, K'del only smiles after Val's father, even if, okay, his lips twitch slightly at the varied repetitions of his own turn of phrase. Swinging into a seat across from the brownrider, he accepts both beer and dice, the latter left sitting on the flat plane of his palm as he gives them a considering glance. But not for too long, not when there's a beer to crack open, and: "Easier 'n making something up. Maybe not as polite as it could've been, but... didn't want to keep him. Seems nice, your father."

"He is," Val says readily enough, though there's also a wry twist to her mouth before she adds, "Aren't bargaining with him, after all." Which might, perhaps, explain it. She settles back, flicks a bit of snow off her own newly-opened bottle, and shifts back to business without much more of a segue. "What games do they play, around you? Just chance, something with more thought in it? Give those a roll."

It makes K'del laugh, that comment about her father, though just lightly, and not for long. There's beer to drink, after all, and those dice to roll-- once, and then a second time, and then, finally, a third. Snake-eyes. "Mostly just chance," he agrees, then, giving the dice a long glance. "Sometimes something more complicated, I think." Beat. "Haven't paid /too/ much attention, I admit."

Val gives those snake eyes a longer look than the others, too. "Keep at it," she says. "While we're talking... so, what do you want to know? Do you just want to get comfortable, or do you have something else in mind?" It's harder to tell what humor's in her own brown eyes, what with the shade of the arbor, the specks of sun now and again as she tips her head back to drink.

"Get comfortable," is K'del's thoughtful answer, made as the dice get rolled again, and then again, and again. He rolls them around his palm, palms them over, shakes within a fist - experimenting. "Want to be able to hold my own, I guess. Know what's what, and where's where. Don't mind losing, right? But rather not lose for lack of knowledge, or not get /why/, or whatever. Winning 'gainst Glacier? Wouldn't hurt, mind."

Now Val's not so much looking at what the dice actually say, just how K'del makes them move, the way tendons and bones move beneath his skin. "Sounds like you don't want to be scammed," she says, the bottle slung in both hands beneath her chin. "Glacier... tell me about Glacier. And winning, what you want to win from them."

Not all of K'del's movements are exactly the way he intends them to be, probably - at least once, he drops the dice before he's ready, even sends one scattering off the table and has to go fetch it. But; "Right. Don't want to be scammed. Glacier... Glacier's kind of a tough wing. Close-knit, 'less you don't fit in. Hard. Play hard. Maybe not work hard, but-- no thread, you know? Boy's club. Never really sure they respect me, most of the time, and you can bet they'd take advantage. So. Wouldn't mind holding my own, winning-- acceptance, maybe. Whatever. /Something/."

When it falls? Val doesn't laugh. Just sees that, yes, he picks it up. She's acquired some dice herself, maybe from that same magical spot as the first pair, and they roll in her ringed hand too as he talks. Sometimes they roll on the table. Two dice. "You want them to respect you..." Three dice. "How about changing that, find something to rub in their faces instead?" It's more than a little wistful, especially because now she does laugh, a little silvery thing. Two. "Or you could lead the wing yourself, take them over. Any man would be tempted."

It makes K'del laugh, Val's suggestion, as his dice clatter to the table again. "Alright, sure," he agrees, easily. "Want to rub it in their faces. You emphasising /man/, there, though?" His head tips to the side to consider her, his brows raising just slightly. "You wouldn't think about such a thing? But-- no. That's /not/ something I'd want. Can't change a wing /that/ much." 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Val readily assures him, though she doesn't put so much work in making it believable, especially with the brief, laughing glance from beneath those dark-fanned lashes. In her hands, the dice disappear and reappear. She doesn't look at them. "I also don't know that even I would want a... /boisterous/ wing like that, wanting revenge."

Those eyebrows of K'del's remain slightly raised, but he's laughing, laughing merrily, as he shakes his head and drops his dice again. At least they roll well. "Also true," he agrees, as his laughter dries up, leaving only an amused smile. "Don't really want to get on their bad side. Wings around your way adapting? Trying new things?" 

"We're /Benden/," Val tells him with a deliberate sniff: Benden, home of F'lar and Lessa, what could he be thinking! But then she laughs, toying with her dice, and gives them a light skittering roll. A pair of twos. She scoops them up again without looking. "It seems as though it's more individual wings, individual people, than a concerted effort. We're getting along fine with our Holds, unlike the western half of the continent," which is to say, not High Reaches alone. "If you're playing where you throw the dice against a backboard, it's harder to cheat."

It makes K'del roll his eyes, smile twitching about the corners of his mouth. He shows genuine interest in her answer, wincing only slightly at her mention of the western half of the continent. "Few of us failing on that count," he agrees, but the subject gets abandoned because, "Cheat? How do you cheat in this? Like... weighted dice or something?" 

Toss, toss, toss. They come up sixes, more often than not, though it's hardly every time. And while there's a dead horse that Val could be beating, instead she goes along with the abandoning. "Weighted dice will do it, but it's something people watch for, particularly if you're not sharing... and if you try to sub them in and out, there's a failure point right there." She takes another pull from her beer, licks the froth off her lip, more kittenish than coy with its lack of self-awareness. "No, it has to do with the throw, yeah? Bouncing them off the board, if you've got one, makes better sure they scatter."

"Right," says K'del, his brow furrowing. "Makes sense. So you can cheat with just a-- flick of the hand or something. If there's no board. can't guide them, if there is." If he's attempting to guide his with his next throw, it doesn't work so well; still, it makes him consider them more thoughtfully. "So how's the scoring work? Two of a kind worth more, or just... higher combined numbers or something?" He reaches for his own beer, but the bottle gets twisted in his hand rather than pulled up for a sip. 

"Not that guiding's easy," Val reminds lightly, perhaps backhanded solace of a sort. "It depends on what you're playing. One of the games I like, the trick is to get high but not go over... so it's a matter of what you're willing to risk. There are others with bluffing, more like poker. And then there's just... chance." Still leaning back, she looks at him, her tone more idle than her eyes. "Do you only bet with marks, K'del?"

K'del's second and third attempts at guiding do no better than his first, no doubt leading to the relieved, grateful nod he gives the brownrider for her reminder. Better that than him just being crap at it. "/Ah/," says he, of the risk, nodding quickly. "That makes sense. Chance, but... knowing the odds, too, I guess." Though he's rushed on to answer this, he pauses afterwards, sipping carefully from his bottle before, lightly, "Remember, not much of a gambler in /general/, most of the time. What else would I bet?"

"Right. Some people like the thrill of how, well, anything could happen. Some of us like at least a little more control." The brownrider's smile is more than a little impish. "Listen for the rattle, and watch their hands... though if you do it too obviously, it's an insult. See," and she shows him her hand, the dice on her palm, the way she closes her fingers and keeps the dice contained to rattle yet not shift position, and the way she flips her hand over so he can see what it looks like from the other side. When she finally gets back to his question, it's to say, "We bet things," and the turn of her hand, this time, is to show him her rings: one or more on every finger except for her thumb, though today they're light, narrow bands. "Or favors... though I couldn't ask an outWeyr rider to take my dawn sweeps."

"Some of you," K'del concludes, with a mirthful lifting of his brows, his lips twitching all over again, "Have a ring habit to support; I see. Not sure your Weyrleader would much approve of a /Reaches/ rider taking sweeps, though, no. " That conclusion of his hasn't stopped him from watching as she rattles, understanding visible in his expression. "So... Anyway. cheating is okay, so long as it's not insultingly obvious?" He tries with the dice again, rattling his between his fingers then letting them fall.

Her hands go up, then droop at the tips: such a /weighty/ habit. To support. "That's the problem with going to another Weyr," Val laments. "And that the value of a ride, let's say, goes down. If you gamble at a Hold, it's worth a whole lot more." Her next toss is a shallow thing, exaggeratedly so, so he can see the motion of her arm and how the dice don't even roll on their landing, just slide. "But okay?" She laughs. "More like, don't get caught. Unless you're playing where everyone tries, and then it's just funny."

"Huh," says K'del, suddenly, pleased and surprised. "Hadn't thought of it like that... playing in holds, I mean. Value of stuff that's-- not /valueless/, for us. But taken for granted. Sort of like a smaller scale version of making deals with your local holders for additional services. Only... gambling, not trade negotiation." Exactly why that pleases him so much he doesn't explain, continuing on to add, "Right. Cheating still not /good/." He turns his dice out of his hand, letting them drop to the table: two sixes. It obviously pleases him. Even if the next try gives less satisfying results. 

"Are they very different?" Val has to inquire of the mighty and powerful weyrleader, brown eyes wide before she laughs, and goes on. His dice get a smile, and she adds, "The more you practice, the smoother it gets. But is it worth getting caught, K'del? What would it take, to make you want to do it?"

K'del looks all set to answer that question in seriousness, but Val's laughter breaks him of it, and he grins along with her. "Life's a gamble, isn't that what they say? So maybe not so different at all." Grabbing up his dice for another throw, the action of rattling them seems to get most of his attention, except, thoughtfully; "Have to be a pretty good payoff. Maybe /N'thei/ would've gotten away with being caught cheating, but me? 'Fraid I'm a bit more cautious than that." Another dice throw. Better, but still not smooth. "If you caught /your/ Weyrleader cheating, what would you think?"

Ahh, N'thei. Val doesn't speak to that, just gives him an acknowledging nod like it's any other name, or like cautious is a compliment. "Cheating to win over me?" she asks. "I'd think it pretty low, is what I'd think. A man with his marks, and never mind the name and the trade, why would he have to resort to that? But then," and here she smiles, cheeks rounding. "I don't think I'd have to worry."

Bypassing her last comment, though there's a tip of a nod there, too, K'del agrees, "Wouldn't blame you, you know? Person with rank and power and whatever... idea is, they shouldn't /need/ to cheat. Reckon it's bad form. So I guess I'll stick to just playing smart, instead. Lose gracefully, when everyone else cheats their way to my hard-earned marks or superior wing assignments, or whatever."

Wing assignments: it earns K'del pursed lips, cheeks rounding further, though Val doesn't quite laugh this time. "Bad form, I think so too. But a man might get respect for playing, for risking it, for bowing out when he spots a cheater instead of just taking it or shaking the house down around him... unless he's got a reason to want to lose."

K'del plays innocence, brows raising and eyes wide, in response to Val's reaction to his remark - but he's rinning, too. "Mm, right," he agrees, with another roll of the dice, this one loose and easy: no attempts at cheating. "Playing to play-- makes sense to me. 'less I'm playing with strangers, without my knot, somewhere foreign, maybe." But his expression says 'and even then...'

"And even then, you can still get outed, but you can pat yourself on the back for sponsoring a sevenday's worth of gossip." Val has such a sweet smile as she shows him her dice, shows him the snake eyes held to the inside. "If there are some you don't want, put them to the inside, and keep the rotation..." She throws. They don't come up. "Like this. When they're next to each other, they can't jostle as much, yeah?"

"Or," and K'del is smiling, so he can't be taking this too seriously, "the whole of Pern can start disapproving of High Reaches' amoral leaders, instead of just the locals." A frown of concentration follows, mouth pursing in thoughtfully as he attempst to copy her action. It works well enough, if not smoothly, not yet, but he nods quickly for it. "Right, yeah. Makes sense! All this stuff... it's logical, I guess, just not stuff I'd've thought of, myself."

Is Val supposed to pish-posh that? Because she doesn't, surely because she's so busy with her dice. "Who knows? Maybe someday you'll teach someone else." Rattle, rattle, toss... "It's funny, your N'thei. I wouldn't have taken him for a cheater, but then, I don't know that dice is his game either. Maybe," and here she bends K'del a smile, "I should pay more attention."

Silence follows that, teeth resting hesitantly upon his lip before, "Or perhaps I should." It's lightly said, followed soon after by an admitted, "Don't know the man all that well. Only that he had a certain respect given him, while still being, I think, one of the guys. /Glacier/." As if that explains everything.

For that possibility of his, she risks a glance through her lashes before it's back to the dice again. She twirls one on its corner, just because. "Respect in some circles," she agrees. "Now that he's out from behind bars..." Spin, spin, spin. "And I could imagine him to be a hard man to disagree with. From what little I've seen." It's lightly said, but Val leaves it there on the table, the better to see if he'll pick it up and roll.

But there's not much to roll with, it seems, from K'del's perspective. He keeps his answers easy, even outright straightforward. "Was only a kid when he was in jail-- not sure we knew who he was 'til a few months later, when he became Weyrleader. There were some concerns, I think, maybe, but it wasn't the kind of thing I paid much mind to." Being twelve. "And he stepped down as Weyrleader few months after I graduated, so it's not as though I ever had much cause /to/ disagree with him. Intimidated me a bit, maybe. Even after /I/ was Weyrleader. Especially, maybe." Maybe even /still/. He stares down his dice, sitting flat on the table, as though they'll remark on all this for him.

As K'del begins, Val's still toying with her dice, but as he continues, she settles with elbows on the table and chin on her hands. It's almost a slow-motion duck rather than slouching. His dice don't answer, at least in words that she can hear, but she does. "Did he get in your face?"

"What, after I became Weyrleader? No." K'del's sure on that much, at least, even lets a smile play around the edges of his face as he tips his attention back towards Val herself. "He didn't want it anymore. Just... faded back into his wing, I guess. They say he was in love with the Weyrwoman." Beat. "Why so interested, anyway? Ancient history." 

In love with the Weyrwoman: the brownrider's smile is indulgent, without any more overt comment on her betters. And then there's a liquid roll of her shoulder that leads to her neck tilting, stretching, buoying up her chin and those brown eyes. "I don't know," Val muses. "When you got to talking..." Reflective brown eyes, reflecting him.

With raised brows, K'del regards her, tapping one finger against his lips before he lets the hand drop back towards the table. "The insecurities of a boy-Weyrleader, laid bare? Or just the gossip of a weyr the other side of the continent from here. Or the other side of the island-filled ocean, whichever." Not that his tone is mocking, of himself or the brownrider: it's light; even; quiet.

Called upon to demur, Val begins to, but subsides in another of those liquid shrugs. "I don't know," she repeats, and doesn't let herself be hurried. "Do you need to name it?" A flick of her finger sends one of the dice towards those he'd left, for all that it's only in her peripheral vision. They could click; they could move; they could miss.

They click, rattling into each other then subsiding, and it's enough to send K'del's attention back towards the dice, albeit only briefly. He answers her while he's considering them, though, with an easy, if less liquid, shrug of his own. "No, guess I don't. Doesn't matter. Don't mean to press or anything."

If it's that, "I don't... always rely on logic," Val says, a ripple of laughter in her voice that's meant to be shared. It could be a shared confidence, a shared warning, a shared game without any rules. She reaches out. Drinks from the bottle she'd set aside. And she says, "Listen, you don't need to worry here. Unless there's a quota, a certain fraction of the day? Because if there is, I wouldn't want you to be overdue."

Val's ripple of laughter is matched in K'del's low chuckle, the mirth lingering in his expression until, with a deep breath, he concludes, rueful, "No. And you're right, I--" But he doesn't finish, just shakes his head with another shrug. "Shall we play an actual game? Don't have any rings for you to win off me-- well, 'cept my graduation ring, and there's no way I'm putting that on the table." He plays with it on his fingers, turning the silver band idly. "But I've marks."

Val lets it go, though her smile intensifies just that little bit more, watching that shift in him... and watching him watch that ring. "We can play a game," she says agreeably, too agreeably and cheerfully so, like something's coming and /she/ thinks it's going to be good. "I'll tell you what. I win, I get to /try on/ that ring of yours, and you get it back afterward. If you win, well, you can try on one of mine."

Maybe K'del notices the agreeableness; maybe he doesn't. Either way, he gives no response to it, only smiling - brows raising - in response to her suggested stakes. "That seems--" Pause. And then he laughs. "Fair deal. Done. What shall we play?" In the meantime, he lets go of the ring and reaches for his bottle instead, taking a long pull. 

Val looks pleased, she does, and reclaims her set of dice. "How about something simple, for starters? Taking turns, trying to add up to twenty-one, highest wins... without going over. You can stop any time." She holds up her dice and gives them a good rattle and a mock-glare to go with it, the better to really impersonate a gambler.

Scooping up his own dice, K'del considers this proposition for a moment, then accepts it with a firm, sharp nod. "Reckon that sounds good. Does glaring help, by the by?" Not that he stops to find out before, after a quick shake of his fist, he releases his dice onto the table, where they scatter, resting on four and six respectively. 

"If you grow to consider me invincible," Val says lightly, eyes for the dice. When they come to rest, she gives them her own sharp nod, and a moment later hers are in motion. She makes a point of rattling them loosely and letting him see if he cares to look, letting them fall: a six like his, though the other one's a five.

K'del sees, and presumably approves, given the slender smile curving around his lips. "So the glaring is all about intimidation? Hm!" He picks up his dice one at a time, placing them flat on his open palm, before he curls his fingers around them, turns the hand over, and gives it a light shake. His second roll adds a two and a five to his tally, for which he remarks, "So that's seventeen, for me. Roll low, Kas, roll low." After her turn, of course. 

"Oh yes. Unless it's to make you laugh, ruin your concentration," Val suggests so airily. For his seventeen, "Nice, very nice. Which reminds me, you can choose to roll only one die, if you want..." But it /is/ her turn. To her eleven... a pair of fours, which she regards with great, still-exaggerated despondency. "Logic says I should stand pat." She waits, and once she's dragged her eyes from the pips, looks at him expectantly.

"Such ploys!" remarks K'del, amused, cheerful, letting a grin show itself before he ducks his attention back to his dice. "One? Well-- that would make some sense. Higher probability of getting above your nineteen, but still below the twenty-one. Good." So it's one die he lets loose, hope visible in his expression until it crumbles when his die hits the table, and leaves behind an unlucky five. "Bah!"

It must be far from the highest stakes she's played, and surely it's a friendly game, but Val's eyes are fixed to the die anyway. She could be a firelizard, eyeing a tunnelsnake's hole and just about ready to go in after it. When it lands, though, it's eminently casual. "You didn't have a choice, yeah? Throwing again, at least you had the chance of winning. You can see where it makes it more exciting, when you lose less if you stay under, or if people toss at the same time, hide it under a cup or something..." But then, just as easily the brownrider passes out of teacher mode into something more like mischief: extending her hand palm up, wiggling her fingertips in that classic /gimme-gimme/.

Despite his initial dismay, K'del seems otherwise unconcerned by his loss, giving Val a slow, thoughtful nod for her remarks. For a few moments, at least, he ignores her fingertip-wiggling in order to muse, "Guess with more players, too, it's more of a gamble. You don't /know/ what everyone else'll do, or that you'll definitely lose if you stay as you are." Which seems to meet his approval. Then, and only then, does he begin to wiggle free his ring, revealing the paler band of skin that marks easily how rarely he actually removes it. It gets placed in the centre of her palm, gently, as he asks, "Why rings? Just an easy way to display your success?" 

Val has to wait? But she survives somehow, and with a genuine, "Right, exactly," along the way. She doesn't even close her fingers right away, but instead remarks, "You really do wear yours, don't you." And then the brownrider's testing it on her fingers, over the slim knuckles. The forefinger is too loose, but the middle might not be, and so she has to shimmy off her own rings on that finger though she keeps them near. Holding his up toward a dappled bit of light, she squints past it one-eyed to reply, "That, too. But I like the way they feel, and you can blame it on being a girl if you really, really want."

"Pretty much non-stop since I graduated," admits K'del, watching his ring in her hands more than the brownrider herself. "Never thought I'd take to jewellery, but... guess it means something, that one." Clasping his hands together in front of him, he finally forces himself to glance back at Val herself, and grins. "Anyway, reckon I'll just sit with liking the way they feel and leave it with that. Plenty of girls out there who /aren't/ much for shiny things." 

The way he watches it.... "I won't swallow it either," Val says so very reassuringly as she gets back to work, middle-finger and thumb now clear. She examines the stone without comment, the inside of the band and the inscription there, before sliding it neatly onto her finger. It's somewhat loose still, so she swivels it, shows him how it could wedge onto her bent knuckle instead. "I also suppose you're right," the brownrider continues, but her light tone's somewhere between their-loss and all-the-more-for-me. As she slips his ring on her thumb instead, "What it meant, was that for your dragon, or for graduating?" Better. Definitely a better fit.

"Relieved to hear that," murmurs K'del, drawling his words out in a way that makes him sound more Tillekian than usual. "Otherwise, I'd end up hanging outside the necessary waiting for you to bring it back out, and that'd be--" He trails off. Too much? Better to watch her in silence, then, except for his eventual answer to her question. "Both, I think. And... belonging, too. It's a /High Reaches/ ring. We're a /High Reaches/ pair. Something physical to go along with what I already knew." 

She doesn't look up, but that low, silvery laughter returns, and not just in her voice this time. Too much? Enough. Now she holds her hand to the light, replacing the missing rings except those on her thumb, and swivels it this way and that to see how it fits, how it flashes. "Belonging. Hmm... we're of Benden, of course, though it doesn't seem the same. Or maybe it only used to be." But enough is enough, and now Val begins to slide his ring free.

Her laughter seems to please K'del, who grins broadly, goofily, for the reaction. But it fades, leading to a furrowed brow and a frown, as he tips his gaze up to consider her face once more. "You don't have that feeling about Benden? Strange. Can't imagine... I mean, High Reaches has been home forever. The general area, not the weyr. Same as Benden for you, I guess. Only... I can't imagine it not being /my/ place, you know?" It's enough to distract him from eagerly anticipating the return of his ring, even!

"I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have said that. But you won't tell, will you?" Val's tone acquires mischief, though her eyes only feign it. Then again, they're mostly downturned. She's busy, after all, polishing stone and band on the soft material of her tunic, and yes, it really is his ring that she offers back, not some surreptitiously crafted substitute for which this all, all has been a ploy. "I love these hills," she says. And then, "Maybe it's just that I know it so well. And that, seems like, it's never going to change."

K'del's immediate answer is to raise both hands and bob his head, which may not be a universal signal for 'I promise', but probably gives indication enough. Anyway, he's smiling again. Perhaps he missed the look in her eyes. His hands drop to accept back his ring, though, and there's thankfulness in his expression as he slides it back onto his finger, positioning it just so. "Most things never do," he admits, then. "Can't make things into anything but what they are. 'Least, being a rider, you can get /anywhere/ in a matter of moments." But that remark only draws silence from the younger rider, before, finally, and reluctantly, he admits, "Ought to be heading back." 

Val has her own rings to replace, though after a second look, she switches them around: the silvery band with the hammered edges next to a different one that's smoother, warmer in shade, an alloy. Even that one, though considerably thicker than the first, is still lighter than the weighty bands she generally wears to the 'Reaches. "There is that," the brownrider concedes, the operation complete. Certainly she's done it enough, whether or not it shows in her tone: /going/. As to going this time... it can't be a surprise, not with their dragons turning back, Visigoth full of good cheer for the jaunt. Looking up, this time her smile's more in her eyes. "Why don't you take that set with you?"

Cadejoth, too, is full of delight, no doubt peppering his rider's mind with stories of their adventures. But for now, the bronzerider only smiles, genuinly, at Val. "Appreciate that. Thanks. Get some practice in." Beat. "Next time, I'll get to try on /your/ rings!" And after that, well, it's a quick trip to collect his belongings and to head back to his dragon, and from there, back to the Reaches, and the rest of life.






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