Difference between revisions of "Logs:Gone Fishin'"

Hidden Cove, Tillek Hold

Just up the coast from Tillek Hold by a mile or two, this little pocket cove is almost invisible to anyone sailing by in a boat, due to the way arms of rock fold around it. The folds of the rocky hills partly mask it from view from above as well, but a dragonrider flying at the right angle would spot it pretty well. It's a bit of a tricky sail to get in, with sharp shoals threatening to take out all but the smallest vessels, unless one knows how to approach the current. Inside, the water is almost smooth and unruffled, the bottom dropping out into dark invisibility below the waves. The silty beach is a narrow sliver of land cupping the water in its palm, quickly swallowed up by trees and thick underbrush. A low-mouthed cavern gapes blackly in the cliff-face halfway around the curve from the beach and looks large enough to hold a chromatic dragon.

Pleasant, bright, mild days mark springtime at Tillek. Rain is infrequent during the spring months, eventually giving way to misty, foggy days as summer approaches.

It was all by design, of course. Rasavyth had suggested it to Cadejoth, that they remind their riders what they have in common. One of those things is birth in Tillek. It was by design, also, that neither of the dragons could fit on the beach of the hidden cove and that it was within walking distance of the Hold. Also, by design, was the fact that in order to get a rowboat there, the two men would have to work together to carry it the couple of miles, but a couple miles of hauling isn't anything two dragonriders couldn't handle.

K'zin had been largely quiet and impassive since they landed. His eyes searched faces as they procured use of the rowboat, and when they stopped at one of the vendors, he asked (perhaps a touch grudgingly) K'del's advice for what kind of pole to get, what kind of tackle, and so on and so forth. K'zin hasn't been fishing since he was barely bigger than knee-high; he mentioned it quietly, something about an uncle who'd taken him once when he was little. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

The trek over to the cove is quiet, at least from K'zin, letting K'del take the lead, listening to his instructions, and following them. It's all promising, right? Once they're on the water, with fishing poles baited and dangling into the calm waters of the cove, that's when K'zin's brown gaze falls heavily on his faux-pa.

Something about K'zin's quiet has kept K'del quiet, too. He was happy enough ('happy' is, perhaps, the wrong word) to give advice on fishing poles and tackle, and to admit that he's been a while since he went fishing, too, and that his experiences were mostly in a pond rather than the ocean, but he's been slow in starting up any conversation of his own. The weight of K'zin's gaze, though, has him shifting uncomfortably, and then, finally - a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't come to get you with Cadejoth the other night," he says, quietly.

The weight doesn't lessen, but it shifts off K'del and to the calm of the water that now surrounds them. He glances shorewards. It's not so far that he couldn't swim... it would just be inconvenient. K'zin rolls his shoulders in a shrug, the movement traveling down the fishing pole that rests against his thigh. "You were busy." The tone isn't exactly forgiving, but it is allowing that 'things happen'. "I'm sorry I punched you in the face when I was drinking." His eyes return to deliver this. It's real. It might sound a little awkward as any man apologizing to another man, but he means it.

"I was," agrees K'del, answering this rather than the apology, and a little more earnestly than he probably intends to. "Was also... didn't seem like a good idea, getting involved in an emotionally vulnerable moment. Given everything." A pause. His free hand lifts to run through his hair; he shivers, despite the relative warmth of the sun. "I'm sorry I provoked you. Or... and that things have gone the way they have." He's looking at the other bronzerider, his expression measured, and not wholly readable.

"Never a good idea." K'zin's words are quiet and calm but the negativity is practically palpable. "Getting involved." Emotionally vulnerable moment or no. Perhaps then it's no surprise that K'zin takes K'del's words not as K'del had likely intended them, letting his first sentiment answer it all. "If you want to find a bright side," And his tone suggest that K'zin's not on the lookout for true silver linings, "Now we get to start again. You'll be my wingsecond and I'll be your wingrider and that's as involved as it has to get."

"Is that what you want?" K'del's expression is more readable, now, and there's hurt there - hurt, and an edge of anger and frustration that he seems to be doing his very best to bite back, bite down. "If I can't live up to your expectations of perfection, there's no point associating with me, is that it?" His hands are shaking, or maybe there's a bite on his line already that he's missed because he's so busy staring at K'zin. "And if that's so, why are we even doing this? Sitting here?"

Too much turbulence will end with both of them in the water. Disadvantage of fighting on a rowboat. So K'zin, too, is doing what he can to keep his own temper in check. "You not live up to my expectations? I thought it was me not living up to yours. Just another person to you. Not someone trustworthy, not even someone you care enough about to explain why or to listen to when they need it, or to pick up when they've stupidly run too far." His voice rises in emotion, but not so much in volume. It's more intense than loud. "Do you think it was easy for me to tell you I thought of you like a father? When you said it was okay that I did, I didn't really expect anything. But then you started to help me. To teach me. And when I needed you, you made me feel like a nobody." He bites off his last word, screwing his jaw shut. His eyes go to the water. Even with hooks in it, it's starting to look more appealing than staying in a boat. Maybe that doesn't answer the question of what they're doing this for, but it's too dangerous for the younger bronzerider to open his mouth just now.

K'del just... stares. "It wasn't because I didn't trust you that I didn't tell you," he says, quietly, some seconds later, after he's managed to recover himself enough to do so. "And if you cannot see the distinction... there have always been things that I haven't been able to talk about. With Milani, when she and I were together. Sometimes even with Iolene, though at least she was Weyrwoman." More or less. "It's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of what's appropriate. My trusting you doesn't make it right for me to give you classified information. I'd do a lot of things, to help you, but I will not unlock the restricted records and give you full access, not even the versions in my memory. Because that... that's you trying to take advantage of me."

"What the shell do you think is in it for me that I'm trying take advantage of you to get, K'del?" K'zin can't help the demand that comes, exasperated. "I came to you because I trusted you and I was trying to understand what the shell's been going on in the Weyr for the past few decades. Instead of just explaining to me that it was too hard for you to talk about, or giving me what things that weren't classified, you just tell me it's complicated and then start telling me I'm naive and assuming I'm asking so I can tell everyone in the world." The intensity reaches an overflow point and K'zin's mouth snaps shut. When he pulls his eyes back to K'del after a moment of communing with the sea, his eyes have the telltale watery look of threatening tears. "I can't believe you think I would take advantage of you. I--" He chokes. He can't say the word. He works around it. "I cared for you like family. Family doesn't do that." Not that his is a good example to go by, but the idea is what's important, right?

Something tightens in K'del's expression, and in his stance, too. "I was giving you what information I could," he reminds. "Even though it hurt, dredging it up. Even though I don't think it's a good idea, putting all of this back in the spotlight. And then as soon as you found out that there were things I couldn't tell you, you went off at me. What was I supposed to think, K'zin? You accuse me of not trusting you, because I wasn't willing to tell you everything. Now you act as though I've betrayed you. What am I supposed to do? If you really want to get to the 'truth' in this, then of course you're going to tell the world. You want justice to be served. And that's fine... but if that's not telling everyone in the world, then I don't know what is."

"That's not how it happened." His version probably wasn't exactly on the markpieces either, but that's the flaws of human memory. Could K'zin recount line for line the conversation they had months ago? Possibly. Will he? Apparently not. "This was a bad idea." He lapses into silence as he stares at the water, but then he can't keep it, demanding, "You did betray me. I used to think you were someone to look up to, someone to emulate. Someone who gave a shit about me. All you're doing here is having the same stupid argument you tried to have with me in Snowasis, and that's not even what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you, the man, and our relationship to one another. And what a--" His mouth snaps shut, his glare directed to the water; so calm it almost makes mockery of the conversation in the boat. This time, the silence sticks.

K'del's voice is very low, and very sad. "I do give a shit about you. Always have. Maybe I did betray you. Not intentionally. Not deliberately. But if I did... so did you, K'zin. Maybe we both fucked up. We almost certainly did, because we're human and not perfect, and we all look at the world through our own personal lens." His mouth opens; there's obviously a lot more he'd like to say, but he... doesn't. Instead, he lapses into a silence of his own.

"What the shell do you think I've been trying to say? I came to apologize. You don't get to punching one of the people you care about most in the world in the face over a few stray words without having fucked up along the way, too." It's exasperated, but not angry. K'zin's baritone carries a touch of thickness to it, hands shifting uneasily in their grip. "I never said I didn't fuck up. If anything, I said I did and that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I upset you. I didn't mean to."

Staring at his fishing pole in lieu of looking at K'zin, K'del sighs, heavily. "Know you didn't. Sorry I upset you, too. It's... Brings back a lot of awful memories, talking about all of that time. Not your fault that I'm sensitive about it. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did." There's a tense line to his shoulders; tension lines his expression, too, along with a certain amount of exhaustion.

There's a nod from K'zin, but no words for a long moment. It's entirely possible that even the nod gets missed given K'del's focus. "Can I just --" He trails off, expression a combination of ebbing frustration and thoughtfulness. "Just so I'm sure I'm on the right page," Of the K'del Book? Of the.. well, something, "And I don't mean any offense, but, just so I'm not-- hoping when I shouldn't..." He looks awkward, because it's an awkward question, "You don't want me to look to you when things are shit, right?"

"What?" K'del's surprised by that - and emotional, too, though exactly what emotion is involved (and really, it's probably several emotions, all at once) is less obvious. "No, no. K'zin. If I can be there for you, I will be. The Weyrsecond thing is probably only temporary, and I don't know if I'll be Weyrleader again, afterwards or not, but... if you need me, if you need someone, I'll do my best to be there for you."

K'zin's chewing on his lower lip now, a sign of his discomfort, paired with a shift that certainly travels down the pole and to the as yet untouched line. "It just..." He starts, "It hasn't really felt that way. It's felt more like... I've been going through shit and you've been avoiding me. That's--" He takes a breath and then sighs, "That's part of why I punched you. 'Cause it felt like you couldn't get away from me fast enough. And I know I was being a jerk, but... I needed--." He swallows hard. "I've been through a lot in the last couple months. And there's just--" His eyes are glassy again. Stupid tears. He looks at K'del through them anyway. "There's just been no one to give a shit." Or felt like it, anyway. "And it's my fault, and I know it, but..." But. ... He's been alone, and it hurts.

K'del sucks a breath in through his teeth, and closes his eyes, though it seems to be rather less because he doesn't want to see K'zin... and rather more because he's trying to marshall his own emotions. "I'm sorry," he says. "But for the most part, I had no idea what was going on with you - still don't, really." He's looking at him again, and his expression is utterly serious. "And I was mad. Stubborn. Felt like losing your respect was just another blow, and why bother, if that's all that was going to happen."

This might be an opportunity to elucidate on just what's been going on with him, except... K'del's words prompt a look of hurt. "So... you just gave up on me?" K'zin's voice comes quietly, not accusing, just... pained. His eyes fall to the water again, blinking away the tears that now do escape, in spite of his efforts. A fist is quick to scrub them away as they fall.

"No." K'del's immediately firm on that. It's possible that, if they weren't sitting in a boat, he'd have stood up to try and move towards the other bronzerider, maybe even attempted to put a fatherly arm around him. He doesn't; it looks like he wants to, though, given the way he's shifting in his seat, paying no attention to his line. "Wanted to do a lot of things. But I was hurting, too, and part of me wanted you to reach out to me, first. Which was... stupid. Point is, I had to be able to get past that before I could think rationally about it."

K'zin stays silent, in spite of the firmness of K'del's answer. "Does this always take this long?" He nods to the still unmoved hook submerged in the water. Maybe he just needs a moment's break from all the drama, or maybe he really just isn't patient. "Am I doing something wrong with this too?" So much for the break from drama. But at least this drama isn't anger directed at K'del. So... progress?

Just like that, K'del laughs... and then puts his hand in front of his mouth, apologetically. "Sometimes, they just don't bite at all," he admits. "I never much mind, though. For me... the actual fishing is secondary. It's all about the ceremony of it: going out somewhere, having to sit and do nothing but think, or talk, or read. It's relaxing."

"So..." K'zin draws the word out slowly, eying the fishing line before he shifts his gaze back to K'del. "Talk to me. I'd ask questions, but that always seems to go badly. So. You tell me whatever you want to." Pause. "Or don't, I guess." That's always an option.

The scope of the prompt seems to give K'del pause. "But what do you want to know? Do you mean... tell you more about the murder? Or tell you about something, anything at all?" His pale eyes study the other rider, as if he could discern his intent from the lines of his face. "Happy to talk to you. Just give me a place to start."

"Faranth's fragrant farts, would you forget about the murder? I'm not asking you about the murder. I'm not trying to use you. Or trying to get you to tell me things you don't want to. I just-- shells. You're kind of sort of a little like a dad to me and I haven't talked to you in like forever," The youth shows in K'zin's exaggeration. "What's going on with you? I mean, you're Weyrsecond. How's that for you? Do you like it? How are your real sons? How's Cadejoth? How are you for that matter? Whatever you want to tell me, if you want to tell me." He sounds exasperated again, but the timbre of his voice is a little brighter, less doom'n'gloom and angry.

K'del makes a face, but it's more one of apology than of displeasure: he's trying. "It's just kind of a big brief. Ah, let's see. Well. Weyrsecond is good. It's... closure, I think. Maybe I'll end up Weyrleader again, probably more likely not. But at least, for now, I get to help do something. The boys are good, really good. And... well, I adopted a daughter, and it turns out my sister's weyrmate got pregnant when Cadejoth caught her green, turns ago, and... well, that's another daughter, but not one I get to claim. Which is... hard. But we're all... gliding along. Busy, but content."

"Yeah? Seems like Cadejoth and Hraedhyth would make a pretty good match up. Personality-wise, though... I'm not sure that really makes a difference in mating flights. The way Solith was acting when she rose, she couldn't have been playing Rasavyth's desires and interests more aptly and I'm-- well, we're pretty sure that she had no idea she was doing it, and that-- well... It didn't go well. But then he didn't get a fair shake because--" And here K'zin is blushing, embarrassment on both of their behalves, "He sucks at hunting." The rest? "The rest sounds... good, and also really complicated." His brows furrow, "Is it-- do you think it's better that you know about the one you can't claim?"

"Maybe," allows K'del, non-commital, for the idea of a Cadejoth and Hraedhyth pairing. "Though the dragons he's been most interested in, over time, have been Iovniath, Ysavaeth and Isyath, and none of them are anything like Hraedhyth. It-- didn't go well?" Solith's flight. He's caught that blush, and his mouth is a crooked smile for it, knowing but not without understanding and sympathy. "He'll get better at it." The last has him pause, his head shaking. "I don't know. It's good that they're willing to let me see her, now, and be her uncle. But - it's hard. Knowing how much time I've missed, and how I can't be what I'd like to be. But she's in good hands, and it's good to know my sister is happy."

"I wouldn't have thought Ras the kind of guy to get interested in Solith, either. But..." K'zin's shoulders shrug. His lips purse and he shakes his head. "No. Ras isn't very good at dragon-y things. He's fine once he's in flight, but his landings and takeoffs are sometimes not the best. He does alright with flaming because that's mostly a thought thing, though he doesn't like the belching part in principle. But he's never been good at hunting. He'd rather hunt as we hunt - with traps and intelligence. Skin things and clean them up before eating them. He's too civilized for his own good sometimes. And a dragon that can't hunt, can't blood. Or not well. He was lagging behind almost right off the ground. And apparently I'm an ass in flights. So, you know, there's that too." He winces thinking back on it. "And it was Tela." And for some reason that mattered. K'zin reaches up to rub along the side of his nose. "It's all fine now, I guess. Except for the part that means he's going to fail repeatedly at flights." He's babbled a little and seems to now realize it, so he re-angles the conversation, and the jaunt of his fishing pole, "I feel like if I say something about the whole daughter situation, I'm going to end up sounding like an ass, because I don't know the desire to be a parent. So." Something else. "Why did you put me in Taiga?" That'll be a better topic, right?

K'del is silent as he listens to K'zin's explanation, his expression set into thoughtful seriousness. "Think that failure's going to encourage him to improve?" he wonders. There's a lot there he leaves alone, reference to Telavi included, and even the daughter situation he accepts with a bob of his head. The last makes him smile - a little rueful, almost a little shy. "Because I didn't want to lose touch with you entirely," he says. "Though... won't deny there was an element of 'remind him who is in charge' which I knew even at the moment was terrible, but I promise, that wasn't the real reason. Think you could do well in Taiga, and-- well, frankly, no one was really eager for you, K'zin. Your performance hadn't exactly been great."

K'zin is silent a long moment, then he answers the safe topic: "Yeah. I think so. He doesn't like being embarrassed. He hasn't been unwilling to improve before this; he doesn't like being sort of hungry all the time. He's just-- not very good. Or maybe I've just not found the right way to teach him. It seems that a lot of the dragons that are skilled at hunting aren't patient enough to teach instead of just try for a bit and then do for him." As for the other topic, it's let alone for the moment, the young man's lips setting into a frown.

"He'll get there," is K'del's answer, quietly confident but also distracted; there's a wariness to his expression, now, one no doubt conceived in the aftermath of that frown. When he opens his mouth again, his words are tentative. "Don't doubt that you can do better, though. I know you've the potential to be a good rider, K'zin. A good pair. And in time, if you're really unhappy in Taiga, there's no reason why you can't secure a transfer to the wing of your choice."

"I am a good rider." K'zin's tone isn't argumentative, instead it is quietly resolved and confident. "Inexperienced," is acknowledged without hesitation, "But good. Our performance was off because I went swimming with corpses. Because I came abruptly face to face with something I had no preparation for and no idea how to cope with. I'd never seen a dead person before. I'm pretty sharding amazed, actually, that I was the only one who seemed to have trouble with that. But I guess maybe the rest of them are more worldly wise. How I ended up with nightmares for sevens and faces I couldn't get out of my head and Tela was just fine after seeing that man with his head bludgeoned and that other one drowned and blue, I don't know. Maybe she's just tougher than I am. Maybe she's able to forget things. I don't. Not anymore. Not since Ras." His voice gets progressively softer as he goes on until the last three words are nothing but a whisper barely audible above the soft lapping of water on the sides of the boat. He doesn't look at K'del. His eyes are far away though they fix on nothing somewhere over the water.

K'del is silent. It's a long silence, but not - from his end of things - an awkward one. When he does speak, it's very quietly. "Had nightmares after seeing Iolene's body," he acknowledges. "And after we executed the Vijay-- Aishani's father, turns ago. It's - it's normal, I think, to have reactions like that. For some of us." He chews his lip, perhaps playing around with more words mentally, unable to throw them immediately into actuality. Finally, "Are you still having nightmares?"

K'zin doesn't interrupt the silence, lost in his own thoughts. He's probably completely unaware of the awkwardness on K'del's end of things. His eyes come back to the man as he speaks. He doesn't ask questions now, doesn't press for more information, simply nods, accepting. "We're too much alike, maybe." He shrugs his shoulders then, "Sometimes. Less. It's not as bad as it was. It was the worst just before I punched you." He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I had the drawings up on my wall. Don't know why. Tela helped me take them down and burn them. It got better after that. My performance is improving. It just-- happened at a bad time." Not to mention the other thing he doesn't mention.

"Maybe," agrees K'del, and though he's not smiling, there's a twitch of something. "Sorry about that. Thought these things were genetic, but..." Maybe there's something in emotional relationships, too, or so the tease goes. "It - I'm sorry. That it all happened like that. Glad to know that it's better. If it-- like I said, K'zin. If you want out of Taiga, it can happen. Won't be disappointed in you, or upset, or anything like that. I'd like for us to fly in the same wing, but I'm not set on it: you need to be happy."

"Apparently, I'm just too good at picking a faux-Pa. More like me than my own dad ever was." K'zin snorts. So perhaps the humor helps break up some of the awkward silences and seriousness of the topics. "Promise me that you'll punch yourself anytime you start to do something 'just to show me who's boss' and I'll stay." The baritone is lifted in jest, but there's probably something to the words. "Or maybe I just get to slap you one time for every time you do something like that at a time of my choosing without repercussion. All the standard at no time that would affect your rank or standing in the Weyr disclaimers in place, of course." His grin is amused by the idea, but apparently he doesn't hold much hold much hope that the older, supposedly more mature bronzerider will go for it. So, more seriously, "I don't have a problem with Taiga. But you know we've had problems. I don't feel like getting figuratively held down and shown who's boss is going to help us as us or me as a rider. So if there's a chance that's what's going to happen, it might be smarter for me to not be in Taiga."

The corners of K'del's eyes wrinkle with amusement, and his mouth smiles, but it's not wholly given over to mirth: there's still something thoughtful about his expression, and something very nearly hesitant. "Not intending to do that," he says. "It'd be unprofessional of me... and even when I admitted that urge to you, earlier? It doesn't mean I really meant it. Most of us occasionally think of things without having any intention of doing them." There's a pause in which his teeth run over the skin of his lower lip. "Could agree to let you slap me, but what happens when there's a disagreement over what's happening? What if I'm only acting as your Wingsecond, and you think I'm trying to show you who's boss? Then we end up in a horrible mess all over again."

"Obviously, we'll need an impartial third party to decide when a slap is warranted. Someone we'll both plead our case to and then if a slap is warranted," K'zin: the man with the answers. The more they talk about this, the more he seems to like the idea. "I'll even go so far as to say that you can slap me at a time of your choosing, disclaimers go here, if you think I'm being an irrational pain in the ass. Provided the slap is awarded by the impartial third party." A pause. "It might keep us from punching each other. Especially since these slaps would take place, presumably after whatever's making our blood heat is passed." From that standpoint, it sounds almost reasonable.

"These slaps..." K'del is giving K'zin a dubious glance. "They going to be in public?" 'Going to be', not 'would be'. "Slaps are kind of a girly thing... not sure if your reputation can stand it." Okay, he's grinning, now. As things go, it's doing a pretty good job of helping them clear the air.

"No. Not 'public' public. Maybe public-ish. That's kind of part of the fun. Obviously it can't threaten your rank, or the respect of the other for you, or likewise me," At least on the respect front, "So it has to be sometime when we're not in an official capacity. But that's kind of the point, isn't it? If we get to slap each other as hard as we want - no rings - how can we be mad about it later? It works out the issue and no one really gets hurt. Where's the harm? My brothers used to do it. Except it was a bet. My sister used to settle the disagreements about who was owed a slap." K'zin's grin is lop-sided as he looks at the older bronzerider. Does he dare accept the challenge?

K'del fiddles with his graduation ring, the one that's been on his finger without fail since the day he graduated, thirteen or fourteen turns ago. It's tarnished-- that glance he gives it might be a mental note to clean it up sooner rather than later. Then, "Mm. Well - all right. Let's do this. If it'll keep us from building up resentments or annoyances, then it seems like it's worth trying. We can revisit later, if it comes to that. Just..." He gives K'zin a glance. "Let's try and talk about things that bother us, too. When we can."

"That hasn't worked so well for us." K'zin notes dryly, shifting a little before he says simply, "I'm not going to stop trying to learn about everything that's been relevant to the leadership and relations to the Weyr. Even if you don't like it." It might be a test of this whole strange 'talking' idea.

"No, but..." K'del stops himself, and takes in a deep breath. "Know you won't. And no, I don't like it much, but it's not like I can stop you-- not like I would try and do it by force, either. It's just-- you have to understand that it's much more complicated, that everything is. And that some of these things play into serious ongoing relationships between the Weyr and the Holds and Crafts and everything. It's playing with fire. Not trying to stop you, in saying that, it's just... you just need to be aware of that. And I'm sure you are, and I'm repeating things you already know, and I just..." He stops, and just shakes his head.

K'zin shifts his grip so he has a hand free and reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Sounds like you just described all of life. Complicated, much more so than it seems." He shifts his weight and reclaims the double grip on the fishing pole. "And you know that's part of the point, right? These things do play into serious ongoing relationships between the Weyr and the Holds and Crafts. I want to know about things so that I don't fuck something up, or so that I can offer useful suggestions, not shit that's been tried before. I get that not everyone needs to know or wants to know everything. But I want to understand my home and how we got to the sharding point where we're rationing our supplies instead of getting our due respect and duties from the Holders." There's anger there now, but it's not at K'del. It's retrained rage at the circumstance the Weyr is in.

There's no immediate argument from K'del on that particular point, though he hesitates before answering, and focuses his attention upon the distant horizon as he - presumably - works through his thoughts. "It's always complicated," he says, "being a Weyr in Interval. It's easy for a Hold to think they no longer need us; in a way, they don't. Devaki's not liked the Weyr much since he and the other exiles arrived, and that makes it easy for him to see us in the worst possible light. Not sure he'll poison the relationship forever, though; he's made his point, now. Edeline is - more complicated. Not sure that was our fault entirely so much as circumstance, but... it's easy to understand, too. We failed her. We tried, but we failed."

When one listens, one often gains more insight than one one speaks, so K'zin is silent, just listening. "Funny that they both do that when they both have Blood who are being rationed food along with the rest of us. I'm not sure I'll ever really understand Holders." He comments this quietly, then turns thoughtful. "Would it matter to you if Devaki was innocent of the murder?" It's asked just as quietly, though the younger man is regarding the older man, watching his expression. It's not exactly a probing question, just... a question. He's curious.

"It's a statement," says K'del, with a wrinkle of his nose that suggests he doesn't understand any better than K'zin does, not really. But it's that question that has him looking so thoughtful, his jaw dropping open partway and then hanging there; he's uncertain. "Do you think he is? He disappeared that day. With Raum. It-- it's hard for me to separate things, K'zin. Devaki hated us, me. Still does, I expect. We rescued them, but he hated us, because the Weyr helped deliver them to exile, their ancestors. Iolene just made things worse, I think. My relationship with her, I mean. Would it matter? Probably these things always matter, one way or another."

"I know he is." K'zin's answer is simple, his shoulders shrugging. "Harper missed things. That much is obvious with what I've sorted out for myself. It'd be a lot easier if I could see what he'd actually turned up so I can see where he went wrong, but that's not an option." Shoulders shrug again, "So. I'm retracing as I can." His eyes go to the water, expression blank.

"But how can you--" K'del doesn't finish that sentence, though his expression certainly asks the question: tell him. Tell him what you know. Tell him now. "Guess it says something for your determination, that you've turned up something the Harpers didn't. Or maybe you just got lucky. But-- " He exhales, heavily. "If not Devaki, then whom? Raum? Someone else altogether?"

K'zin's not looking at his expression. Maybe that explains why he doesn't answer the first half-voiced sentence. "I'm probably just lucky." He says it too smoothly, so smoothly that someone would have to be wanting to believe him to fall for it. It's purposefully done, of course, in just that way. "Maybe Raum. Maybe someone else. Like I said, all I can say for sure now is that it wasn't Devaki and the Harper missed things. I'm still finding out what. I don't know what exactly he missed because I haven't seen his report, but obviously that. The Weyr should get it's money back." If there had been money exchanged for such a service. "Maybe the Harper was even paid off, who knows. No one ever will if no one ever asks the questions."

K'del's silent for a long time. "You must trust your informant very much," he concludes, finally, reeling in his line. His bait is gone; he replaces it, working methodically. "Do we want to know? Does it make a difference, now? She's dead. She's been dead a long time. But - " He shakes his head, hurriedly, and shifts path. "That's not the point, is it. You want to know, so that you know. So that someone does."

There's no confirmation forthcoming, but it's a reasonable conclusion, so maybe K'zin just doesn't feel he needs to confirm it. Or maybe he wants plausible deniability. "Doesn't it make a difference of a Harper was bought and paid for by a murderer? What if he's not the only one? Can you trust the services the Harpers provide the Weyr with if they're so easily swayed?" He raises the questions carefully, one by one. "You really have me pegged as small minded and self-righteous, don't you." It's not really a question. "The point is that's one of the pieces of the puzzle. You know things aren't good, right? In the Weyr? And that they haven't been for over a turn now? It's a little better now because people are at least listening to the Weyrleader and queens aren't forcing their will on the dragons. But things still aren't good. It's like we're putting a bandage over a bandage over a bandage over a broken bone. Something's wrong at the core. I don't know what, but it's not going to be good here until the root of the problem is sorted out and dealt with." Not that it's any small task... He's looking at K'del now, expression even, tone patient.

"Do you really think the Harper was paid off? By whom?" K'del can't wholly discount the possibility, but it's obvious he finds it a stretch - even if he can't deny the rest of it. "It-- it's not like I'm not aware of that, K'zin. Believe me. And we've been trying, trying to improve things. But I'm not-- not sure that it's even as straightforward as that. Time will heal. For some people, having the past dug up like that will just make things worse, make them feel like they have to relive everything when all they want to do is forget and move on, try and build a future instead of living in the past. No, I don't have you pegged as small minded. But I'm not wholly convinced that what you're doing is really helping, either."

"I think it's possible." As to whom, there's a shrug. "We," is the next thing the younger bronzerider plucks out. "I know my clutchmates and I are new at this, but there are some that are interested in trying to help. And every time we show an interest, whoever this 'we' is dismisses us. Obviously, the 'we' hasn't gotten it under control yet, and frankly, I think it's a boneheaded move not to take advantage of people who want to help." He makes it as a statement, just an opinion, "But none of us can force you to let us, so we have two choices, do nothing or pave our own paths. And apparently doing the latter just pisses you- the plural 'you'- off. So instead of all working together and getting along, and acting like the unified Weyr we're supposed to be, we end up at odds." He doesn't say it outloud, but the tone is indicative of 'what a waste'. He doesn't address his own specific plans and how they play in just now.

"It's--" K'del stops himself before he says anything more, and bites on his lip, instead. The look on his face is conflicted; he stares out towards the horizon again, and exhales, lengthily. "Not going to deny there's an element of... ageism, and experienceism. Shells, and it's not like I can talk, there, given the way I burst into relevance only a few months after I graduated. But everything's so tentative, at the moment, balanced on a knife edge, and I think people feel like that needs to be stablised before anything else can happen. And part of it is... well, your clutchmates didn't help anyone want to trust you guys. Not saying you'd do the same thing, mind, just that it makes people wary. You want people to trust you to be helpful? Prove you can be."

Now there's a rise to anger. Anger and frustration. It flashes across K'zin's face and then is buried under a mask of neutrality. He glances shorewards then back to the older bronzerider. "Professionally speaking, how have I ever been anything but? Surely, despite my performance issues in recent months, my record reflects how sharding hard I worked to not only better myself but those in my wing with struggles, that I frequently rise above and beyond the call of duty when it comes to studying, practicing, and being helpful. I'm one of twenty-four weyrlings. I am the only bronzerider from my clutch whose dragon was sired by Hraedhyth, and the only bronzerider from my clutch to not do something that disgraced my Weyr." He emphasizes things slightly, but placed purposefully. "Tell me, Dad," He eyes K'del with raised brow, "Where did I fuck up and show people they couldn't trust me to be helpful?" Maybe this gets to the root of why K'del's lack of trust in him so many months ago now was a pain felt deep.

K'del's frustration shows more readily on his expression, but he's calm enough when he opens his mouth to speak. "It doesn't work like that," he says. "It's not that you lost trustworthiness, it's that you haven't earned it on that level, yet. And no-- don't get upset at me for that. Stop and listen. No one looks at weyrlings as people to be trusted with things. It takes time to build up that reputation. I know you can be trusted, so do other people in your life, but to the Weyr as a whole, you are a newly graduated rider they don't know. Why would anyone trust you over someone they've worked with and respected for turns? I do trust you to be helpful, but that doesn't mean you'd be my first choice for... look. You care about this Weyr, and I'm glad. I care about her, too. And I do understand wanting to help. But that's not the only thing that matters."

"So what you're saying is..." K'zin sums up, no flash of further feeling having interrupted the mask of calm neutrality even at the point when K'del evidently suspected he might, "...sit on my hands, don't fuck up, and in howevermany turns it takes to earn respect by doing that I can help?" He doesn't stop there, instead, asking, "If you hadn't ended up Weyrleader right out of the gate, and supposing you had cared at that time," Since rumor says Weyrling K'del might've been a little self-centered, "Would you have just sat around and done your duty until you'd put in enough turns for anybody to trust you with anything that mattered?" Then, "Why don't you assign someone to look into things with me? Someone you trust." In the way he cannot apparently be trusted. "Someone who would be your first choice. Someone to make sure I don't put a foot wrong."

K'del squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that you can't be surprised that people haven't instantly reached out to you, or seen you as someone helpful." There's a faint flush to his cheeks for that reference to his own misguided turns. "You want to prove that you are helpful, step up. But take your ideas through official channels, not unofficial ones. Doing what you're doing will just get you branded as a-- someone who can't be controlled, or trusted to do what he's told. Maybe it's not fair that you've been tarred with the same brush as your clutchmates, but it's the reality. So prove people wrong."

K'zin's brows knit, expression unreadable. "That's a poor assumption." He notes of the first. "What I'm surprised by is that someone who knows better-" Someone who's sitting in the other end of the boat, "-assumed my behavior was going to be destructive or harmful. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not waiting for anyone to reach out to me, or see me as helpful. I'm not surprised that I'm not a go-to person. Believe it or not, I don't have that kind of ego." The implication might be that K'del's projecting his own onto the situation. Might. "What would going through proper channels do? In this particular situation. Draw attention to things that might strain relationships with Holds and Crafts?" He looks to the water, "Azaylia offered to review the records for me and answer questions if she thought it was appropriate." Then back to K'del, "I rejected her offer because then she doesn't have plausible deniability if something unpredictable were to happen."

"And instead, you're going it alone." K'del finally glances back at K'zin, now. "It's obvious we're not going to understand each other on this one. I'm not telling you not to look at this. I'm telling you that every time you start looking into this stuff, you're risking something unpredictable. I don't think you intend to cause problems, and I never assumed your behavior was going to be destructive or harmful, only that the potential is there. Sure, you're not waiting for someone to notice you. You're going to jump on in, and if something bad does happen as a result of it, what then? 'Oops'?"

"No." The word is delivered evenly, his look bordering on unnervingly emotionless. "Not alone." But that's all he says before looking back to the water. "Then I'm rebuked and punished as appropriate and the Weyr is richer for the information I've gained in the process." Another simple answer from K'zin; too simple, of course. But that's youthful inexperience for you.

K'del's mouth opens, like he wants to argue that point, lay out all of the things that could happen, but evidently he decides better (though 'better' is probably more along the lines of 'what's the point' than 'I concede your point'). "Forget it," he says. "This discussion is a waste of time. My ongoing silence doesn't count for approval. Honestly, I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to end up watching things explode if something goes horribly wrong. So, just... let's not talk about it."

"What kind of parent would you be if you approved of everything I do?" K'zin's response comes wryly and with a smile, humor touching the edges of his eyes.

K'del groans, but it's a good natured kind of groan. "Thought I had turns before I had to deal with that part of parenthood," he says, half teasingly. "Guess I'll be well and truly prepared before the boys are ready to rebel and drive me mad."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll still surprise you. But I promise I'll do my utmost to prepare you well." There's further amusement and humor in his tone. "The good news is that you can always claim 'he's not really my son' when I fuck up badly." Since that's inevitable at some point. K'zin starts pulling his line in, and finds the hook empty. "What the-" He stares at it, his expression comedic as he looks to K'del, "What the shell are we fishing for? Women? Take the free meal but not get on the hook?" It's bullshit his tone indicates, grumbling in what's nearly a cheerful way as he sets about freshening the hook.

K'del's laughter is merry enough, a sure sign that whatever frustrations linger, they're not lingering too close. The state of K'zin's hook, however? He attempts to look serious. "Maybe all the fish are women. That'd be right--" But it's all in good fun. And even if they return to the Weyr without so much as a single catch, well. That's hardly the point, is it?