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Riorde: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Devaki, Riorde | where = Cove, High Reaches Hold | what = Riorde goes looking for Devaki. Islander grief. | when = Day 15, month 3, turn 30 of Interval 10 | gameda..."

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Created page with "{{ Log | who = Devaki, Riorde | where = Cove, High Reaches Hold | what = Riorde goes looking for Devaki. Islander grief. | when = Day 15, month 3, turn 30 of Interval 10 | gameda..."

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{{ Log
| who = Devaki, Riorde
| where = Cove, High Reaches Hold
| what = Riorde goes looking for Devaki. Islander grief.
| when = Day 15, month 3, turn 30 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.11.09
| quote = And we look after our own.
| weather = Wind, rain, and snow combine to make for miserable, sleety weather today.
| categories =
| mentions = Iolene, K'del, Raum
| ooc =
| icons = devaki.jpg, riorde worried.jpg
| log = Cove, High Reaches Hold

Waves pound the rocky coastline night and day along the edges of this small cove, just a short walk from the main hold. Standing watch, the tall column of the lighthouse stretches high into the sky above the beach its rosy stones sparkling faintly when the sun's rays catch just right. The beach stretches as far as the eye can see, eternally washed by the salty sea as it relentlessly carves pockets and crags out of the scattered boulders and spiny ridges of Reaches' shores.
----

Devaki's looking rather more scruffy than he's grown adjusted to since living at High Reaches Hold; the longish hair, scruffy beard and exhausted demeanor more reminiscent of their days on the Island than living in the lap of luxury. Of course, it could be (and probably is, for most Holders) attributed to the fact that he has a five week old child. Even with nannies, sleep is interrupted, even if it's just because Issedi has to rise. Even though it's a cold winters afternoon -- windy, with a hint of rain -- he's made his way down towards the cove, and that's where anyone will be directed, should they come to the Hold in search of him. The bridge of boulders makes for a small lee in which one can sit and watch the waves relentlessly, endlessly, coming in.

Thus does Riorde come picking her way down clothed in riding gear, a warm scarf and a warmer hat. A rider's knot grants her greater access to the Hold's elite, and if she's been cautioned that right now may not be the best of times, that Devaki might prefer solitude down there with the wind and the waves to the business of the Weyr and that perhaps she might be persuaded to conduct her business with someone equally qualified -- well. Riorde pays it no mind.

"''Ri''." Her name is uttered by Devaki as an exhale of relief the moment the crunch of her boots turns his gaze towards her. Solitude he might prefer, but Riorde is an exception to the rule it seems -- his arm outstretched, to enfold her, and to pull her into the lee of the boulder with him -- out of the rain. He doesn't say anything else, immediately, his tense posture easing marginally in her presence as he buries his face in her shoulder. Just breathing.

After so much time of deliberate avoidance, exchanging sweeps where needed and eschewing any contact whatsoever with the Hold, dissolving that carefully maintained distance is statement enough. Riorde doesn't say anything as she joins Devaki without hesitation, half-crumpling when she tucks herself in next to him, into the curve of his arm. Nothing for several long moments, silence filled with the so-familiar sound of the water rushing in upon the cove, pounding at the rocks and then sliding back out over the sand. Eventually, she stirs enough to say, "Dev. You look like crap." She looks no better, equally drawn, gaunt-faced, and weary.

"You as well," he murmurs into her hair. Devaki takes a deep breath, his arms tightening around her, the crashing of the waves a soothing, reminiscent sound. He pulls back just far enough to study her expression, fingers brushing over her forehead and pushing hair back behind her ear. "I've missed you," he says, quietly. Then, after a pause, something heavy, strained in his voice, "I miss ''her'', too. Tell me what happened, what you know?" A hint of anger now, fingers tightening briefly.

There's no concealing how raw she looks, eyes in particular. Riorde doesn't end there, though, on the note of how their mutual grief is made manifest. "You look more like you." She doesn't try to smile. She'd fail if she did. Quietly, she concurs, "Me too." Riorde doesn't clarify which missing she means, or if the concurrence encompasses both. "I don't know." Her gaze drops when she admits this in answer to his question; looking up a moment later, however, it's with the stark straight-forward stare that is so entirely her own, communicating a cold, clean anger. "When I find out who did it," she says, slow and deliberate, "I will kill them."

The other islander watches, takes in that cold anger. Devaki gets it. Would most demand to take that away from her? Demand to be there? The exile lord certainly doesn't. "Good," is all he says, forceful, expectant. She's said she'll take care of it, and he believes her. "If you need some assistance from the Other, you have only to ask; I'll release him to assist you." Raum is the ''expert'', after all. "Just... be careful. I can't take losing you, too." His voice cracks, a little, even though he tries to cover it up with a squaring of his jaw, and a look towards the sea. "Do you think... that K'del is involved?"

Satisfaction meets his response -- as much satisfaction as one can take in the promise of unachieved vengeance. "He might be able to help," Riorde says, perfectly willing to enlist Raum. "Help find whoever did it. So long as he leaves enough of him for me." Devaki's concern on her behalf, and the way it affects him audibly, makes her lean in against him, hand curling around the inside of his knee. "I think he loved her," she admits after a pause, grudgingly. "Even if he's an idiot. I don't think he would do that." The pause, this time, is longer. "She told me about you, you know. When we were Standing. I didn't tell anyone." Not even Devaki, apparently, concealing the fact that she had this illicit knowledge. "I know you loved her. I'm sorry."

With a release of breath, Devaki murmurs, "Than you shall have him." He finally returns gaze from the sea to her, leaning in to press lips against her forehead. Her opinion of K'del doesn't please him, judging by the slight narrowing of gaze. "If it wasn't for him, though, she wouldn't have been ''there''." It's the latter comment that makes him freeze -- rather than the location of her hand -- and his body tenses momentarily, giving him away. He aims for an even tone, mostly succeeding, though she knows him well enough to read the grief in his gaze before he looks down, in order to catch her hand with his own. "You did too. We all did. And we look after our own."

Riorde won't say more on K'del -- it's not as if she enjoys defending him by any stretch of the imagination. Nor does she press Devaki at all, leaving the words dropped into the space between them for him to do with them as he likes. "I did," she says, bereavement rising in her voice within the measure of those two short words. "We do." She turns her hand so she can lace her fingers through his, pressure hard where short nails dig in. "Dev," the islander begins, "I want to go back for the night. To our island. Remember her there." There's a question contained in those remarks, mute, that she doesn't ask.

There should be more of a hesitation. After all, he's a man with responsibilities. A wife. A newborn son. But there isn't -- she doesn't ''need'' to ask. "Take me with you," Devaki says, immediately. "If we can't... release her back to the sea, like we should -- we should make some sort of offering on her behalf, instead. Her grams would've wanted it. She would've--" he doesn't finish, emotion choking the words to silence. Instead, he lifts his hand, fingers twined with hers, and turns it so he can press his lips against the back of her hand.

"She's with her dragon, now," Riorde murmurs -- it's a measure of how she's been changed in the ways that Devaki hasn't, although she doesn't contradict him outright as to where Iolene's final resting place should be. Hearing how his words fail him, she bites her lip, and when her hand receives the kiss, there's a brief, brief moment in which she closes her eyes. "We'll make an offering," she concurs after a moment, swallowing. "Build a fire. I brought everything we need. Come on."

There's a clouded look in Devaki's expression as the brownrider mentions Iolene being with her dragon. He can't possibly understand, and Riorde's assertion doesn't please him, clenching his jaw briefly in reaction. Still, he doesn't seem inclined to argue at her urging, and, with his hand still twined with hers, leads the way out of the lee of the boulder, casting about for Sforzath.

In response, Riorde lays her free hand along the tense line of his jaw, holding it there a minute before she gets to her feet to make a run for her dragon, hand-in-hand. And, in short order, Riorde and Sforzath whisk the Holder away from his home to the one that stakes a claim on him still.

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 {{Log
-|involves=High Reaches Weyr
+|involves=High Reaches Weyr, High Reaches Hold
 |type=Log
 | who = Devaki, Riorde

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 | what = Riorde goes looking for Devaki. Islander grief.
 | when = Day 15, month 3, turn 30 of Interval 10
 | gamedate = 2012.11.09
 | quote = And we look after our own.