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Roz at 07:10, 25 January 2015

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Bot at 07:58, 5 July 2014

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R'hin: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Bristia, Oriane, R'hin | where = Monaco Weyr | what = Oriane sets out to solve a problem. R'hin's not going to like the outcome. | when = Day 4, month 8, turn 3..."

2013-12-22T04:48:45Z

Created page with "{{ Log | who = Bristia, Oriane, R'hin | where = Monaco Weyr | what = Oriane sets out to solve a problem. R'hin's not going to like the outcome. | when = Day 4, month 8, turn 3..."

New page

{{ Log
| who = Bristia, Oriane, R'hin
| where = Monaco Weyr
| what = Oriane sets out to solve a problem. R'hin's not going to like the outcome.
| when = Day 4, month 8, turn 33 of Interval 10.
| gamedate = 2013.12.21
| quote = "You are a problem for me."
| weather =
| categories = Vignette
| mentions = M'kris
| ooc =
| icons =
| log =

R'hin'd been summoned, by which Evielth had ordered Leiventh to come ''now'', and to make sure his rider attended immediately. That the bronzerider was in a state of partial undress when he entered the Weyrwoman's weyr was only half feigned; he'd been in bed, nursing some bruises and a hangover, and his knuckles were split, making buttoning up a shirt difficult. He might've exaggerated his limp, but only somewhat. Sort of.

"You are a problem for me." Oriane was giving him ''that'' look as he entered, vexxed and trying hard not to show it.

R'hin affected his most abashed expression, a hand pressed over his heart, a half-bow not quite completed. "You wound me, Weyrwoman. I thought I ''solved'' your problems?"

"You did. Until you ''became'' the problem. The last thing I want -- need -- is Corisa's brood associating their vendetta with you, with ''me''. I have a hard enough time keeping them in check, and I've made ''enough'' concessions giving them positions in the wings."

With a snort, R'hin twisted one of the chairs around, sinking down and resting his arms along the back of it as he remarked dryly, "And here I thought the Weyrleader decided positions in the wings."

"Don't play naive, R'hin. You know M'kar does whatever I tell him. It's why he's the perfect Weyrleader for me. He's one of the few that isn't lead around by the balls by M'kris. And don't give me ''that'' look."

"''What'' look?"

"You don't think I can survive without you. You think I ''need'' you."

"Don't you?"

"I certaintly don't ''need'' you causing ''another'' brawl in the living caverns."

"''I'' didn't start it."

"''M'kris'' tells it differently."

"Of course he would. And tell me, was he wearing a clean-pressed shirt, a hint of oil, and making smoldering eyes at you while he was telling you his sad tale of woe?"

Oriane ''looked'' at him. She didn't ''have'' to say anything; she practically radiated disapproval.

R'hin couldn't help himself; he chuckled darkly at her expression. "So, then tell me, Oriane, how do you plan to fix this?"

"By making you disappear."

For a moment, his heart skipped a beat. Even he didn't know if it was fear or anticipation; it was far too quick for him to process, and either way he shut it down before Leiventh felt it. Cautiously, "I can do that."

"Not ''there''." Her brows drew down. "I don't want you going to that camp... ''whatever-it-is'' of yours."

R'hin played the innocent, eyes wide: "What ''are'' you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. Evielth isn't stupid, and neither am I. We know perfectly well where you and Leiventh go. I've tolerated it because it's good to have riders outside of M'kris' influence, who can ''think'' for themselves."

It had been a while since Oriane had surprised him -- he'd been sure he had her all figured out, all her angles and intrigues. It seems that he was wrong, and that shook him more than the knowledge itself.

Oriane continued, a glimmer of smile indicating she was well aware of his demeanor, "But they will want to know ''where'' you've gone and why, and we need to give them a reason they can believe."

"And where ''do'' you want to send me, my dear Weyrwoman?"

She grimaced at the affectation. "Back to High Reaches, of course. We'll come up with something. A sick relative. Homesickness. Some bit of ass you're chasing after. Maybe even... a trade."

''That'' made R'hin laugh. "If you think High Reaches would trade for me, then you're sorely overestimating my popularity."

"Mm. Maybe they wouldn't ''just'' for you. But what if we sent a ''whole'' wing with you? Some supplies to sweeten the deal? High Reaches is still unstable; they still don't have a permanent Weyrleader. But if they felt secure enough to trade a whole wing for training purposes..."

"They wouldn't go for it."

"Really?" Oriane's brow rose. "Perhaps you ''underestimate'' yourself -- or your ability to be convincing."

"But, Oriane, what are you going to do without me?" R'hin rose, looking down at himself. "Your burning desire for my manly body will go ''unfulfilled''."

Oriane rose to her feet, and R'hin skipped backwards quickly, out of range. Her expression was worth it, even ''if'' he did have to exit the room quite a bit faster than decorum and his limp would dictate.

----

Bristia was sprawled on his bed, chin propped in the palm of her hand. "You realize what this means?"

R'hin selected one of the bottles from his cabinet, dropping gingerly down onto the bed beside her. As he examined the label, he answered, "That you're going to miss me terribly and pine away--"

Bristia pushed up to a seated position, and elbowed him mid-sentence, continuing smoothly as if barely interrupted, "She said she's sending a whole wing with you. I mean, clearly ''I'm'' going, but that's not the point."

R'hin managed ''not'' to spill the wine -- barely -- but the grimace as he cradled his side wasn't ''entirely'' feigned, eyeing the ex-harper askance. "I'm ''injured'' you know."

"Oh, ''are'' you?" Bristia replied, sweetly.

He glared at her for a moment, then with a breath, asked, "So what ''is'' your point, ''harper''?"

"A whole wing, ''with you''."

"I heard it the first time. I'm the one who told ''you''."

"No, you didn't ''hear'' it. It means she wants you to lead the wing."

R'hin snorted. "She knows that's the last thing I'd want."

"She wants to keep you out of trouble, you said it yourself. What better way than to keep you occupied chasing after every troublemaker she can round up to put under you? Which, by the way, is clearly why I'm going too."

For a second time that day, R'hin cursed his misjudging of Oriane's intent, and gulped down a mouthful -- or two or three -- of the wine.

"Save ''some'' for me," Bristia scolded him, reaching for the bottle. "After all, we're celebrating."

"We are?"

"We're going home, aren't we?"

He thought he felt a shiver of cool winds in his mind: Leiventh waiting for his answer just as keenly as the harper did. "Home," he echoed, trying to suppress the stifling sensation that threatened to rise into his throat at his utterance of word. "For a ''little'' while."

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