Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Declaring Loyalties"

Your location's current time: 22:36 on day 31, month 6, Turn 60, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening.

Central Storerooms(#17755RJM) Though certain of the Weyr's supplies are stored at the places where they are used, most are kept here, in the central storage complex. A series of caverns grouped around a central corridor, the complex is cut on the grand scale necessary to hold all the items a full and active Weyr needs.

You're currently in the main corridor, wide and tall enough to admit a laden wagon. The walls are lined with heavy wooden doors, their wide spacing evidence of the size of the rooms behind them. Each of the doors features a posted inventory and map of its room's contents, and there are small piles of returned items beside several, waiting until someone has the time to reshelve them properly. There is a set of hardwood shelves available on a space of wall between two of the doors where people can place items when they are not sure which storeroom they belong in. Scanning the door signs, you note cold stores, dry food stores, rooms for textiles and furnishings, the records room, and the supply closet.

To the south, the corridor opens out to the lower caverns.

Obvious exits: Lower Caverns

B'yan strolls in from the lower caverns. B'yan has arrived.

The evening is growing later, and already some folk are clearing out of the caverns, heading for an early night. The Weyrleader, however, is not one of them, nor is the brownrider that in the records room with him; the glows are burning brightly, hides spread out across the table, along with maps and small stones marking various things. R'hin's looking tired, though his eyes are bright as he leans over one of the maps, fingers marking out sections as he mutters under his breath. The brownrider, K'san, seems vaguely bemused, brow furrowed as he edges around the table to see, too. "Just far enough, it looks, K'san. What do you think?" R'hin asks, gesturing towards the map.

Despite the late evening, such inconveniences never stop a man like B'yan from lurking about. The former itinerant saunters into the storeroom, the look on his face suggesting that he's on a mission. He glances quickly to the various areas in the large room, a sheet of folded hide carried idly in hand as he slows his steps. It's only when he gets near the back where the record room is that he hears words being spoken, curiosity more than anything steering him to appear at the entrance to find himself facing both the Weyrleader and another rider.

K'san frowns down at the maps, shifting a few of the stone markers about. "It'll be enough, R'hin. Eventually. But this is going to take time." R'hin exhales slowly, looking pleased. "I know- but time, we have -plenty- of that, my friend." He claps the brownrider on the shoulder, "I owe you a good bottle of Benden." The brownrider chuckles, allowing, "And then some. Good evening, Weyrleader." He gives a nod to R'hin, heading for the door, but stops short when he spots B'yan. A brow twitches, and he intones, "Weyrling," before heading out. R'hin, for his part, glances up at the brownrider's greeting, a faint sort of grin flickering across his features as he sweeps the stones off the map, carefully curling it up. "Hoping to run into our dear weyrwoman, are we?"

B'yan catches the end snippets of the conversation, hazel eyes dropping quickly to the maps before the stone markers were swept away. A brow lifts carefully, when the brownrider turns with the title to him. He smirks, lifts his chin superciliously, and flicks off a wordless salute as he lets him pass by. The sheet of hide now being tucked into his riding jacket, he doesn't look up when the Weyrleader speaks to him, and he seems to let the words slide by without contest. His lips do curl however, "Planning a strategy to the lands, are we?" he finally returns as he meets R'hin's eyes, the words almost pointed. He takes a step into the records room then, "Sounds... peculiar." Beat. "No, no desire to see Satiet at the moment," he does answer to it wryly with a flick of his fingers. "I'm sure you'll do enough of that for the both of us, hm?" His eyes go to the area where the maps are stored briefly, "Perhaps it's a ...valuable thing to run into you," he drawls casually with a tip of his head. "I am looking for insight, of the weyrling kind." If it's odd that he's asking R'hin anything, it's noted himself by the amused look he gives.

"And why would that concern you, B'yan? You've made it clear you have no allegiance to the Weyr," R'hin replies casually, with a twitch of brows. He he doesn't look up however, carefully rolling up the map, and moving to replace it back in the shelves. A low chuckle comes from the Weyrleader as he steps back towards the main table, head tipped as he settles pale gaze on the weyrling. "For the both of us?" he echoes. "Do you liken yourself to me so swiftly, then?" the words are not accusatory, merely questioning, palms of his hands held upwards for a moment. The latter query, odd as it may be, is taken in stride, moving to pile some of the hides together. "Make yourself comfortable," he invites with a wave of his hand towards a chair.

"If it has something to do with the lands, then it does concern me," B'yan returns crisply, brushing something off the shoulder of his jacket. He does address the words about allegiance, however, though the glint showing in his eyes may sway one to whether it's the truth or not. "Whether I care to like it or not, this -is- my home now.... for Jaireth's sake." Letting that be reason enough, the bronze weyrling watches R'hin carry the maps back to their places with a twitch of interest. His return remark about Satiet gets a hollow chuckle, forced. "Hardly," he replies dryly. "While others may think there's many similarities between to the two of us, I see very little." The invitation to sit is taken then, regarding R'hin with the usual tenseness that comes with facing the man he's argued with since R'hin's own weyrlinghood. Once seated, "Now that Jaireth's spreading his wings," he begins briskly, "the impending next step of Betweening is growing ever closer. I...well, I didn't give that weyrling memorial much focus back in candidacy," he admits without apology. "While it's easy to sit on the back of one, with someone else leading the dragon Between, I didn't really expect to be-" and he gestures towards the Weyrleader for a moment in the pause, -"one of you. What's your take on this Betweening stuff, since you had to go through it as a weyrling too?"

The faintest of snorts presages a low-throated chuckle, R'hin shaking his head. "Ah, I see. So you... -expect- knowledge when it suits what interests -you-, but not when it suits the Weyr. How very community-minded of you," he remarks dryly. While B'yan sits, he remains standing, collecting hides and moving to various shelves to carefully return them, moving about the records room with the ease of familiarity. However, partway through the weyrling's words, his movements slow, and he moves deliberately back to the table, hands resting on the back of the chair opposite B'yan's, surprise quickly mutating into sharp study. "Ah. And so self-preservation kicks in," he remarks in an undertone that was undoubtedly meant to carry. "My take," he echoes B'yan's intonation precisely, with a twitch of lips, "Is that between is the one thing you will always have to take seriously. If you lose concentration," he snaps his fingers, "That's it. And you've more than yourself to think of now. Between is--" he pauses, gaze lifting, somewhat distant. "It is frightening. And it should -always- be frightening. The day you become blase about it, is the day you'll end up an exhibit for weyrlings a hundred Turns down the track."

B'yan sighs, the sound seeming to convey a disappointed emotion from him as he shakes his head. "I have a... hard time meshing what suits me and what suits the Weyr," he drawls in almost a tone of resignation. "But I am quite stingy when it comes to information, as you know. It's not like I'd run-tell brother-dearest-" and he flashes a grin at R'hin, -"of all the plans you have. I'm sure he can hold his own." Beat. "Are you offering lessons on how to be community-minded?" R'hin's words about self-preservation gets a genuine chuckle, sitting back in his chair. "Should I die for something that I have no loyalty in?" he asks idly, thoughtfully. "Or maybe I just want I and Jaireth to live much longer. I can shield some of my thoughts from him, but not all." He's silent when the Weyrleader speaks then, lips thinning before he tips his head. "Frightening," he echoes the word used. "I do have more than myself to think of now. I don't want to make any mistakes. So, concentration's all that's needed then?" he asks then, thoughtfully as he rubs his chin.

"You are not the first, to have that difficulty," is all R'hin says by way of, one assumes, reassurance. The mention of his brother earns an amused twitch of lips, though the Weyrleader doesn't exactly seem forthcoming with information himself. "It was an observation, not an offer. I cannot teach you these things. I cannot teach you -loyalty-, you have made that abundantly clear on a number of occasions. Die?" he echoes, bemused, now. "No one has asked nor demanded that you must. You are fortunate to be born in a time where lack of loyalty can be overlooked, for nothing compels us die for a cause... or be a hero." The last is spoken with a touch of sarcasm, quickly fading as he straightens. "Not the only thing, the most -important- thing," the bronzerider clarifies. "It also requires a certain measure of trust- when you take visuals from other dragons, you are trusting in them." Pale, even gaze rests on the weyrling's face as if to measure his expression.

B'yan snorts lightly, "I suppose that all chalks up to adjustments, as I am reminded of often," he drawls after R'hin's initial words dryly. He notes the amused motion from him when he mentioned his brother, and adds when loyalty is mentioned, "Loyalty cannot be taught. It's earned, as I've heard said." When R'hin speaks of heroes, the bronze weyrling flicks a studying glance at him. "Just because there's no Thread to die from doesn't mean that all of Pernis safe," he drawls in a mildly serious tone. "That dead weyrling in the weyrling memorial could agree to that, if he could. As Shan and I discussed one time, we're not invincible." The sarcasm noted, "And you don't strive to be a hero, Weyrleader?" he suddenly asks, the title bearing emphasis. The measuring look at the end given his way is not lost, his lips twitching in amusement. "Trust," is the word he picks out, drolly. "I see." Eyes flicking to the entrance then, "For Jaireth, I can make some sacrifices," he drawls carefully to that before meeting the Weyrleader's gaze. "I'm sure you've done the same for Leiventh."

"Indeed. The Weyr is a harsh mistress after all, and not all are... able to commit to the demands of her loyalty." R'hin personifies the Weyr as a woman - no great surprise there - but there is a thread of respect in the words. He collects some more hides, turning towards the shelves, then pauses to glance over his shoulder, answer immediate as if it is a question he has been asked often before: "A hero? No. I am anything but. I leave greatness to others far more deserving. I strive for... other reasons." He says, self-assured enough that the words come out smoothly. A grin appears after a moment at the weyrling's drawling words. "Perhaps. But if some were made, they are between Leiventh, and myself. As it should be."

B'yan shows a lopsided grin, "Harsh mistress? Are we referring the Weyr itself to the, what you call her -lady of the spires?" he asks wryly as arms fold across his chest. "But as for demands? I can believe that. It's like a business, in a way." His mention of his old self and the business gets a tip of the head. R'hin's answer though gets a longer measured look before understanding appears on the bronze weyrling's face. "I suppose we're more alike than I wanted to believe," he drawls to R'hin's answer, low and guarded. "I don't think my Impression was happenstance. There must be a reason for it. I don't think it's to do ...great things," he says the two blandly, as though that's the type of path he wouldn't choose even if it was offered. When R'hin answers about sacrifices, he concedes the answer with a sharp nod. "As it should be," he agrees, the words heavy with his own meaning, perhaps adding those between him and his muddy bronze.

Bemusement flitters across R'hin's expression. "The Weyr, of course. You seem to have quite an obsession for our weyrwoman. You should have that seen to, for your own sake." The faint glitter of pale eyes might suggest facetiousness, but the twitch of brows hints otherwise. "You believe in fate, then?" he says, dismissive, giving a wave of his hand. "Then you must think you are meant for -something-. Me? I know too many riders - and others - who shouldn't -be- riders, enough to know that Impression is random. It isn't fate." He reshelves more of the hides, concentrating on that task for the moment.

B'yan rolls his eyes, "Well 'harsh mistress' seemed to equate to her in my estimation," he reasons with a touch of indifference. "Obssession? Yeah sure, go tell her that, like when you assumed I had designs on her." The last words get a touch of amusement, the memory of those days long past showing. All the same, he speaks them in sarcasm as well as he eyes R'hin. "I believe that there's a purpose to everything," he drawls about the question fate, his words simple. "Cause and effect. I eat because I am hungry. I steal because I want or need. Very few does things happen for no reason." Hazel eyes regarding the Weyrleader, "And you think things just.... -be-?" he makes the estimation with interest. "I know too many holdless folk that are either that way because chose it or somethine happened that made them that way. They didn't just -be-." Pause. "I shouldn't be a rider," he drawls knowingly, "and yet here I am. If it's not for some yet-to-be-revealed purpose, then what? To Impress just to annoy you, maybe?" and he raises a brow, amused.

With a twitch of lips, R'hin clarifies, "I did not assume. I -lied-. There's a vast world of difference." A faint, dismissive snort. "I should have known you were one of -them-. You think there's some grand plan behind everything. Plans are what we -make- of the world. What opportunities we take, or ignore. Nothing more, nothing less." He spreads his hands, palms upwards. "If you find comfort in believing what happened isn't simply random, well, who am I to argue? Perhaps someday, you'll tell me what Shalyn's purpose is." Pale eyes settle briefly on the weyrling, hint of amusement there. "No, not merely to annoy me. You do not annoy me, B'yan. You give yourself -far- too much credit, I think. It means nothing. You impressed randomly." He claps his hands together for emphasis. "Don't you wonder why some take Impression so easily, and others struggle? We are not all meant for it, but it happens, and there it is. If it is a purpose you wish, I can give you one, but none shall appear before you from nothingness."

"Ah," B'yan touches the word lightly before his tone turns dry. "Pardon me. Lied. I wonder what other lies you whisper in her ear then." His brow furrows then at the more serious topic, "I didn't say grand plan," he corrects smoothly. "Just reason. -Choice-. Like the reason why I agreed to Search in the first place," and his brow lifts. "I could have declined." Beat. "And while -I- do think there's a reason things happen," he continues briskly, "I -do- live by an unruly code that boasts of personal gain. As you said before, self-preservation was what brought me to ask of insight from you on the topic of Betweening. You believe like Kam, I notice. He thinks things happen randomly and for no reason too." With a slow nod, eyes glittering, "Shalyn?" he echoes the name dryly, bemused before he flicks his fingers dismissively. "I don't think I care to know myself," he drawls of her in the same type tone. The Weyrleader's amusement gets returned then, not answering his words on credit. "I do wonder about the struggle of some," he admits with a nod. "But believing it all random? Hm," and he grows silent, suddenly thoughtful.

"Why, B'yan, are you jealous?" R'hin queries, all innocence and surprise. "For someone who professes to have no deigns on her, you seem particularly interested in her." He replaces the last of the hides on the shelves, scooping up the stone markers and pocketing them to leave the table completely cleared. "You don't care to know? Yet she, and many others like her, are evidence to the contrary of your... fate." He uses the word derisively.

B'yan thins his lips at R'hin's query, fixing him with a look. Nothing's said, however, though it's belated that a derisive snort is given at the end. "Are they?" he drawls wryly about the evidence. It's a long pause that he regards the Weyrleader before chuckles shortly, "It's possible that my reasoning of -purpose-" he pointedly uses the term rather than the one R'hin uses, "is flawed. Your reasoning of just random occurances could be, too. Despite my personal dislike in knowing someone like Shalyn's purpose, it's possible that there is one. Whether it ever gets known or not is the main issue." And an issue he clearly doesn't care to seek. "You... have good points," he notes almost grudgingly as he looks at him. "Worthy of checking out, sometime." It's probably the closest thing to a compliment the Weyrleader's going to get from the bronze weyrling.

"No heartfelt denials? No accusations of assumptions? Interesting," R'hin concludes with a tap of fingers against his lips. "Perhaps," he agrees, "But I am not attempting to sway you to my side of things. I am only telling you what -I- believe, from what I have seen, and-" his hand waves towards the hides behind him, "Studied." B'yan's words, concession as they are, earn a nod from the Weyrleader. "As you see fit," is all he says, with a bland sort of smile that mutates into a grin. "But, the night is growing long, and I've a mistress to attend to." He angles around the table, moving for the door.

"What's the point?" B'yan drawls to that, a careless air to his tone. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. If it's not of anyone's concern, then it really doesn't matter." He sweep the matter away like that, briskly adding "I'm not looking to be swayed. I am about information. I take in everything -beliefs, studies, and opinions. It is what I do," and a shrug is given. He notes the nod, getting to his feet suddenly, "I'll take your words into account," he drawls in a more formal tone, a hand absently patting the side of the riding jacket that the hide resides, "as I have something to deal with as well." There's hesitance before he visibly works his jaw and adds "Thanks," in a low tone, but still audible.

A slight pause suggests R'hin hears thanks, and the faint bend of head acknowledges it wordlessly as he heads out towards the caverns.

You wander into the lower caverns.