Difference between revisions of "Logs:Just Different"

Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr

At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind.

It's been close to a seven, and the thick, black plumes have not let up. There's a sense of that inferno within diminishing over the days, but the smoke reveals little else to those who come probing. Iesaryth in particular. It's unclear whether the protective shroud is for her rider's sake, or that of the Weyr. Drums have still been a constant, a pounding, not-silence that is broken only now, « Mine is here. » A smoggy flash of the Council Chambers, « If Yours cares to speak. » If she doesn't, that's fine, as the choking black swallows Hraedhyth back up. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth)

As is her wont, Iesaryth has been calming any worry in the Weyr, or trying her best to do so, the ocean's soothing whisper echoing, passing over the black shroud, but always testing in that moment; seeing if things are yet better. There's the heaviness of deep water over all, yet sea breezes still carry hints of bonfire smoke on them, a scent of better times for the other queen. « Hraedhyth. » The gold is disappointed to see her swallowed up again, but does nothing to stop her. Perhaps it's better this way. There's a flash of her rider heading out into the snow. She's on her way. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth)

It's a particularly cold afternoon, the snow relentless in its soft descent and covering of the bowl floor. Inside, the chambers are warm enough to be pleasant and still cool enough to show steam rising from Azaylia's drink. Since Hraedhyth's outburst, the goldrider has been visible as far as the weyrfolk are concerned, just not terribly chatty. In fact, she's had her nose buried in her work even when outside of her own weyr. Her productivity has taken a notable leap, no doubt. Even now, she is bent over several reports and is writing with single-minded purpose, words scrawled out in that bubbly, rounded handwriting. The chair remains empty, and instead she is sitting one seat away, near the center of the long table with a mug of something rich, warm and alcoholic within reach.

When Brieli comes in from the bowl, it takes some time for her to pause and de-snow her hair then the rest of her, even with such a short trip. If there's anything she has to say about the recent productivity or the way Azaylia's been so busy lately, she doesn't mention it; despite the other goldrider's drink, she makes no move to find her own. Instead, she comes to the end of the table and stand, hands in her pockets, lips quirked wryly. "We have some things to talk about." There might be a snarky comment about finding the time, but she just leaves it at that, both weary and expectant.

There's a nod for Brieli's words, slow and easy as her stylus works to finish one last thought. Once she's done, Azaylia looks to the other weyrwoman with a plain expression, though her eyes are clearly searching. A digit lifts, number one on her mind being, "Why did you lie?" No matter if the question might be rehearsed, it doesn't come out as smoothly as she'd like. Heavy, slow, not willing to know the answer and yet she must. Her eyes remain fixed on the other woman, fingers blindly searching for her mug's handle in order to bring it to her lips for a deep swallow.

With a slow sigh, "She's dead." Brieli says that with no little weight and perhaps a little guiltily, for some reason. Looking down to the table, "About Ysavaeth? If you asked me to keep a secret, if you asked for my help, if you were desperate, I'd do the same for you. By the time she came to me, things were so far along, there was nothing else to do. And now..." Her jaw sets, and she looks down the table to Azaylia, deadly serious. "Now, there's people looking for ways to replace us. If the truth came out, Lujayn would be back. And we'd lose everything."

"If I ever asked you to keep a secret like that, I'd hope you wouldn't." Azaylia says, blandly. There's no trace of that fury, having used the days prior to let it all out as needed. Folding her hands atop her work, she closes her eyes to take in a breath, and let it out again. All is well. "Why did she lie, then?" There's no hiding the hard inflection at least on one of her words. The news of replacements has her eyes widening some, only to narrow into something more normal, "We won't be replaced. We won't let them." Simple as that. "Lujayn is the only reason the truth isn't already out." She will take the full blame for that, given her nod, "She only cared about being Senior. It's why she left High Reaches." Making the older goldrider unfit in her eyes.

"I hope you never have to ask. But try not to judge people who do. There's reasons, most of them usually fear. You've been lucky, Azaylia, to have a family that raised you properly, to have people that care about you. But not everyone does." Brieli can only shrug to the question, shaking her head. "I don't know why Iolene did, not really. I think she wanted K'del to be Weyrleader. I think Ysavaeth had something to do with it, but I'm not sure. I wish I could tell you, but she's dead. It was a secret I said I'd keep, and I knew that telling you would only upset the both of you." It doesn't explain her telling K'del, but perhaps she felt he should know. With a purse of her lips, "What good would it do to let other queenriders know that it was even possible? As for our hopeful Seniors... I'm not sure there's more than one yet, but Telgar is looking at sending Teris back. A tall bronzerider with curly hair that liked to be called 'Weyrleader' was visiting to arrange that. Someone here is trying to remove us." There's a significant look - wonder who THAT might be - and a pause. "We may have to make decisions."

Azaylia remains quiet, though one digit on her hand begins to tap atop the other's knuckles, quite possibly to the beat of those never-ending drums. As Brieli speaks, her eyes drop down to the finger while she's still clearly listening. "If I can't know why, then I'll have to judge for myself. Not because she asked, but because of her actions. What's important to me is it wasn't for the good of the Weyr." She looks up now, eyes including Brieli in this, "Even if it was for K'del, he's not the only one who matters here. It was selfish. I'm hurt that you didn't tell me, no matter the reason." Her eyes soften, "Mostly, I'm disappointed." Her gaze wavers, wetly, banished with a sharp inhale, "I don't know about you, but I don't want Teris or any other golds around. Not unless one of ours lays a gold egg." Significant look or no, the goldrider doesn't seem too aware of who Brieli might have in mind. She leans forward, hand resting on her temple, "We always make decisions. That's what we do. Some of them are bad." Directed inward for the most part, it's a sweeping comment.

Seeming disappointed herself, Brieli notes, "That's not terribly kind of you. And unfortunate that it hurts you. I am sorry for that, Azaylia, but I won't apologize for keeping confidences. I also wonder - what if we had secrets? What if they were for the good for the Weyr? Is lying all right then? And how would we know if things would have turned out better or worse for it?" There's a beat, before, "You think selfishness is bad, it seems. But you need to be selfish to take care of yourself. I wish you would understand that too." Her words are slow, her tone rather low and heavy. With a faint smile, "I don't want any other golds around either. But someone who thinks it's the only way to save his Weyr might be interested." As for decisions, "The council and the weyrfolk don't precisely see us as decisive. They see us as children in need of correction, who don't know what they're doing. We need an Acting Weyrleader and a Weyrwoman, regardless of what the real situation is. So we can send a pair to council to stand up to them, if it comes to that."

"I'm sorry too." Azaylia apologizes, her own voice weighted with emotion, "I'm sorry that I don't seem like someone you feel you can trust. I'm working on that." The rest of her mug is drained, set on the table with a touch more force than is meant. "Don't think I haven't thought about it." She's had the time, lately. "I thought I could forgive Iolene, because sometimes leaders can't always tell the truth. There are different kinds of lies, and while I don't like any of them... some are unforgivable." As gentle as her words are, as soft and careful, they aren't terribly kind, no. Not in this. "Do you have any idea this rider might be?" Her voice trails off, only vaguely worried for meddling riders given their problems here at home. Her expression stiffens at first, easing into something wary, possibly frightened as she looks to the other weyrwoman. It takes a swallow before she can ask, "And who do you think should be the Acting pair? Brieli."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Brieli sighs, frustrated, leaning over the table, palms flat on it. "It's that a friend asked me not to tell. It's that I have very few rules in my life, but I do not betray other people's confidences. It's not as if I tell everyone about your life either. I don't even tell people whether you're seeing someone or not. Because it's your business." There's a moment before, "But I can understand how it would be upsetting to find out. Disappointing." As for the rider, she again takes time to choose her words. "There's only a few people that know of Teris, know of her and the situation here. K'del is one of them, not that I know it's him." But she suspects, it's there in her gaze, hardening. That softens at Azaylia's swallow, and she notes, gaze dropping to the table, "H'kon won't even be polite to me. I tried, but he won't. He only wants to be there to stop Taikrin. And she wants to have the chance, so badly. H'kon isn't a leader, but Taikrin could be."

Azaylia purses her lips, "Brieli, please. I understand why you did it, but... It wasn't her business. It was the Weyr's. We're goldriders. That happens sometimes." As unpleasant of a truth as it is, as ill as it has her looking. Or perhaps it's the fact that K'del might be capable of doing such a thing, "I don't think he is." Not that she sounds certain, not in the least. Her face flattens ever so slightly at the mention of H'kon, though she bites back any comments. No. This is a calm exchange. Another inhale-exhale pairing, and she recovers, "So you think Taikrin should be Acting Weyrleader." Nothing new. "I want to give H'kon as many chances, Arekoth did catch Iesaryth, fair and square. But..." He's being difficult. Resigned, she sits up straighter in her chair, making what should be a logical assumption, "Taikrin would be my Acting Weyrleader, then? If we went to council."

"By the time I found out, the Weyr would have been someone else's. So, yes - it was the Weyr's too. But I would have handed the Weyr to I'kris and Lujayn. There were no good options." Brieli's certain of that, as certain as Azaylia is that she's right. It doesn't change the faintly disenchanted expression she has, nor the dubious glance when the other goldrider defends K'del. Even so, "It's near impossible to figure out if he is or isn't. But someone is. And Igen... I feel like they have ideas. As for H'kon, I've given him chances. I tried to make peace." She's sincere about that, but sobering, she looks down the table for a long moment before gently, "Do you think you could go to the Weyr Council and stand up to them? With or without Taikrin?" Because... it seems that Brieli doesn't think so.

"If... I'kris and Lujayn were the Weyrleaders, Iolene might not have died." It's an idle thought spoken out loud, pensive with words that hold no true conviction. Not that those two would be her ideal choice, from how quickly she banishes it with a shake of her head. "It is." Azaylia agrees, on it being impossible to figure it out. "I could ask? I know you don't like K'del," Just how much, she might not realize. "But it wouldn't hurt us to try." H'kon is another matter entirely, and one that has her giving a soft nod of understanding. "It's not right to keep him out. That doesn't mean you have to be social." Brieli's final question has her giving pause, "I... If it's for the Weyr. I don't want to go to council." Still. "I don't want a lot of things. But that doesn't mean I won't do them if I have to." Even as her voice loses what little force it has, ending in a squeak.

Brieli... can't even really dignify that with a response. Iolene in disgrace and a brownriding murderous Weyrleader - she can only shudder. And she might be skeptical of K'del owning up, even if Azaylia does the asking, but... "It wouldn't hurt," she can agree. "Maybe he'll have some suggestions." She doesn't even say that in a bitchy, dubious way! "H'kon won't even listen to me," she tells the other goldrider, a bit despairingly. "But if he wants to help, we don't need to cut him out." That's grudging. It makes a moment to answer, but the squeak really decides her; still careful, "I can, and I will. It might actually help, going to council with a compromise, one from each flight. Things wouldn't change really - and once things settle, we could maybe go back. And... it'd give you some time to get used to... everything. Hraedhyth will likely rise again before Iesaryth anyway."

Azaylia looks apologetic for that shudder, for the shock her thoughtless words might have caused Brieli. "Maybe. He doesn't lie." It's not her own claim, the words recited, carrying with them a hint of simple draconic speech. "H'kon is an ass." Simple as that. It's become such an easy thing to say, "And he doesn't like you. Or me, probably. He does care about doing what's right, though." Which is enough to have him on the very edge of her thoughts, when speaking of Weyr business. The offered compromise has Azaylia looking surprised and thoughtful, for only a moment. A blink, and her brows have lower somewhat, "Taikrin's my Weyrleader." A husk of something possessive. It's gone as quickly as it comes, leaving something far more innocent in her sulk, "I'm Taikrin's weyrwoman. H'kon's... H'kon, but that doesn't mean we can't do things right. Szadath didn't catch Iesaryth." There's tension in her shoulders now, "We don't go to council. If we do... It's Taikrin and I. Or, it's you and me. We're in this together." She doesn't sound so sure, biting her lip as her gaze drops to the table. "Right?"

"He's the only one who gets to decide what's right, that's the issue. Like so many people around here." Brieli might sound a little bitter about that, but it doesn't last for long. With an arch of brows, seeming surprised for both possessiveness and sulking, "I'm not trying to take her away from you, or Szadath." She sounds a touch bemused. "It would be for show, to show the other Weyrs that we can make decisions. If they call a council to replace us with Teris, and we go together, they will laugh at us. Tell us we can't make a decision and appoint someone who can. I think they might do that no matter what." There's a long breath, then apologetically, "We are in this together. And I want to protect you, both of us from being sent away. Because one of us might be, let's be honest." Looking down the table to Azaylia, "I trust you. I trust you to do the right thing. But I don't think you'll be able to handle those... people. And you can't send your Junior to do it."

K'del is forgotten, Azaylia standing to rest her hip on the table, gaze abandoning it to settle on Brieli. Her lip is chewed less thoughtfully, and more with agitation that doesn't quite make it to her troubled expression. "I can handle them." Now there's annoyance, mixed with hurt. "You probably would be better at council, Brieli. But unless you plan on doing it with the rider who caught your dragon, then it just looks... It looks wrong. More wrong than things have been, lately." It's not easy for her to say, words trembling here and there, her hand reaching for the table to steady herself. "I'm going to hold on to what I can, what's right, with two browns catching. I have to."

With an arch of brows, despite any hurt, "No. You can't. You can barely handle your own emotions sometimes, Azaylia. You've been out, but you've let Hraedhyth shut herself off from everyone and agitate all the dragons again. I don't think you can handle council when you can barely handle the Weyr without my help." Brieli looks sorry about saying it, but... much like another discussion, long ago, she seems to think it needs to be said. "It doesn't look wrong. It looks like an equitable solution to a temporary situation. And if you can't see that, I can't see how you can handle any of the rest of it. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know there was a plot to replace us. Do you know what the weyrfolk are saying? Do you talk to them? Do you listen? I won't be your lesser and prop you up with everything I do because you're a nicer person than me. You have to do what's right for the Weyr, and that's strength. Your issues with right and wrong are childish."

Other than her rapidly moving chest, Azaylia remains frozen. With wide eyes that fill with tears all too quickly, "Dragons aren't shut. Out." The words are spoken through bared teeth, not in anger, but in effort. "Just. Iesaryth." The fat tears are ignored, sliding down her cheeks as she fights through the shock, her tumultuous emotions unhidden, flickering in her gaze. "You're not the Senior." Is what she finally manages to say, with a gasp of breath, "I'm not. Nobody's lesser." She's grasping now, eyes breaking off of Brieli to search for the words, "Neither of us is the Weyrwoman the Weyr needs right now. Together, but-- I defended you." The whimper breaks through what else she's attempting to say, pulled back as her eyes close. "You can think whatever you want about me, Brieli. Hraedhyth chose me. I do need your help. But not if you're going to resent me for it."

"Iesaryth. Because it's her fault, yes? Because I asked her to do something? Hraedhyth would never deny you, but you didn't even try to talk to us. Just assumed and were angry. Controlled by emotion again." Brieli doesn't mention the tears outright, but she glances at them significantly. "They'll say worse at council. Is that how you'll react? And if I'm not Senior, I can't let you be. Not like this." Lifting her chin, she tells Azaylia, "If you think you're not the Weyrwoman this Weyr needs, then you never will be. I've tried to help you, convince you that you're good enough, but it doesn't work. And I've defended you." After a pause, "You would have run from Hraedhyth if it weren't for me. Again. Iesaryth likewise chose me, and this Weyr needs my help, which is the most important thing. Now you're being selfish."

Azaylia's eyes snap open, pinning Brieli with a stare that's as shocked as it is angry, "YOU aren't the Council. I expect that from THEM. Not my FRIEND!" Airy voice cracks with the force of her yelling, echoed by Hraedhyth's bellows outside. There's no Weyr-wide outburst, no need, not with her rider making such fury known. "Fine." Is uttered in a low whisper, audible breaths through the nose a sign that she's trying, desperately, to calm herself. To calm Hraedhyth. "Help the Weyr. I don't care what you think," Obviously she does, those tears still pouring down her face. "But do it right, Brieli. If you want to just say who can be the Acting pair, like it doesn't matter what the dragons did? Then maybe we should just wait for the next Flight."

Iesaryth doesn't bellow, doesn't alert the dragons or make a sound, but the ocean's gone chilly and that under-water weight doesn't lessen. Brieli is impassive in the face of Azaylia's anger, likely cooled by her lifemate in the same way that the other goldrider is infuriated by hers. "As you might recall, sometimes I say what needs to be said, not what people want to hear," she notes, not letting herself raise her voice again, talk to quickly. There might be a flicker of... guilt again as Azaylia tries to calm herself, but she doesn't apologize. "We should wait for the next flight, because nothing is decided. All I'm saying is if we don't appear to have things in hand, we may lose High Reaches. And I won't do that, not now. An acting pair is just that. There's no need for it to be right. Just decided until things are worked out. I don't know why you see it as some sort of... judgment. And you know I think the dragons aren't a decent way to decide anything, much less leadership."

"You also say things just to hurt." Azaylia snaps, voice lowered to something more manageable, "There was no reason to tell K'del about Iolene, and not tell me. That was just to be mean. You're mean." Now she reaches up with knuckles to drag the tears off, "You're not a bad person." Repeated in a whisper, likely for her own sake. "You're just different." Possibly an argument with her fiery half, desperate to hold onto something, for the other goldrider's sake. When her hands lower, she aims a stare at Brieli, words still choked, "If you can find an Acting Weyrleader, fine. Go to council. If it's what's best for the Weyr." Still just enough trust in the younger weyrwoman for that, "But you can't have Taikrin. They're ours." Her thinned lips twitch, fighting off a frown as she stands her ground.

"He needed to know," Brieli tells Azaylia, with an edge of stubbornness. "I didn't hide it from you to be mean. I did it because she was my Weyrwoman, for Faranth's sake. She sent me to Monaco for Iesaryth. I owed her too much not to keep her secrets. It's all about you, you're hurt, you're upset, Taikrin is yours. Ask her about that. While you're at it, ask--" She stops, cuts herself off, despite flinty gaze and - perhaps - because there's something valid there about how mean she can be. "If we have to," she says eventually. "Only if we have to, and not before." She'll give that much up, and she doesn't mention Szadath's rider again. "I don't want anything to happen to you. There's a lot of things... you just don't know about people, about the world. I'm sorry that this is how you had to learn it." It's difficult to tell what exactly she's referring to - the information she's brought, or her own words. "I'll see if there's anything else to find out about Telgar. Or any of the others. If it's imminent."

"I will." Azaylia murmurs, eyes actually fiery slits as she looks to the side, fists tensing with yellowed knuckles. The intensity lessens only slightly as she looks to Brieli, "You're not sorry. Or else you wouldn't have been such a..." Even now, she can only dissolve into more tears. "We keep the peace of the Weyr. I'll make sure Hraedhyth is... They need to work together." The dragons. "I don't think I can be around you now." Forever? "Unless it's about the Weyr. Unless you can talk about Telgar, without hating that I didn't think about it." She doesn't have the grace to just leave, quick steps halted so she can turn around and gather up her paperwork. Clutching it to her chest, she runs out of the chambers and towards her own weyr- thankfully quiet about it.

"I am sorry. I don't know any other way to be." Brieli has to look down at the tabletop again, briefly. "And that's good. Iesaryth will be fine." When isn't she? The only thing that really seems to affect her is Azaylia's limiting things to business; her expression falters briefly, then it goes back to something more neutral. "All right," she merely says as the other goldrider flees. It's not till she's gone that she slumps over the table, leaning on her hands again. "Nothing else matters," she murmurs to herself. "Nothing else."

Comments

K'del (K'del (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 12 Feb 2013 00:14:26 GMT.

< Oh man.

I really loved this, in a oh-man-it-hurts-make-it-stop kind of way.

Zian (Zian (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 12 Feb 2013 00:52:59 GMT.

< I loved everything about this scene. It seemed really eye opening for both of them.

Ceawlin (Ceawlin (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 12 Feb 2013 01:21:16 GMT.

<

• Really* good scene; intense. Makes me (as an observer) really want to know how this is all going to end!