Difference between revisions of "Logs:Wings In Resistance"

Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr

Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.

Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.

Dinner is in full swing by now, the living cavern packed to the brim with riders and residents alike. Most of the wings have settled into their own tables and everyone else has found a spot by now. Normally, Z'ian would be seated with his own people and in the midst of his meal already. But some unimportant issue has kept him from joining them right off. Instead he's here fashinably late, managing his way through the crowd and stepping in the line for food. He snatches a plate off of the serving table and moves it from hand to hand, looking past the person in front of him to check what's available further on down. The bronzerider rocks back on his heels, passing a cursory glance over the crowds as he moves a foot at a time past the dinner options.

K'del hasn't made a particular effort to always sit with his Wing in the months (and months) since he joined Taiga, but he's there tonight, the front legs of his chair lifted off the ground as he rocks, back and forth. Evidently, he's in a good mood-- and so are the Wing, or, at least, most of them: a whole collection of glasses are being raised in the bronzerider's direction, a veritable salute. Having drained their glasses, a good number of the Wing depart, leaving K'del to rock back on his chair once more, and look unquestionably smug.

Z'ian works his way through the line, eventually managing to get a small plate of something before he bails. Boreal's table is packed out, though they've left a seat for their Wingleader amongst the masses. It's there that he heads now, before catching sight of K'del sitting at the less populated Taiga spot. He redirects course and heads towards them instead, giving the familiar riders there a quick wave before he drops down into the chair across from the other bronzerider. "I was in this wing for over a decade and they wouldn't put me in charge of anything. One turn in and you've got the 'second's knot. Who'd you sleep with?" He asks, flashing his friend a brief smile before pulling his drink to him. "Happy Turnday too. Belatedly."

"Clearly they were waiting for you to grow up, and when you escaped before you did-- well, second best isn't so bad, is it?" The legs of K'del's chair thump back onto the ground as he turns his attention on Z'ian, grinning. It's a genuine grin, filled with more relaxed good humour than is frequently the case, these days. "Or maybe I'm having it off with F'manis. One or the other." Beat. "Thanks, Z'ian. How's Boreal doing? They going to tar and feather you when they see you consorting with another Wing?"

"I guess being the Wingleader of a different wing isn't so bad." Z'ian rolls his eyes humorously before taking a forkful of something to eat. The comment on tarring and feathering has him glancing in the direction of Boreal and then over at the remaining Taiga riders. Swallowing, "They've been a lot more friendly these last couple of months. But do me a favor, can you try and not do whatever you did that got me nominated Weyrleader? If only for a day? Because that was a pain in the ass. Taikrin yelling, punishing good riders. Lia especially, she's not a bad girl." It's all conversational, as if he doesn't seem to be particularly worried about anything today. Not just yet.

Mere mention of that protest has K'del's nose wrinkling and his cheeks turning faintly pink, for all that his good mood, at least, doesn't seem inclined to complete evaporate. "Sorry about that," he says, sounding at least a little contrite. "Lia cornered me, yelling about how I wasn't fixing things. Told her she couldn't just sit back and expect me - just another rider, remember! - to 'fix' everything. Didn't expect she'd--" It's probably not completely the truth, not given the way he suddenly eyes his mostly empty plate instead of the other bronzerider. "Taikrin's a fucking screw-up. But I didn't mean to cause you problems, I swear. Just... her." One of them. Or both.

Z'ian watches the other rider as he chews on his food slowly. The pause, the way he switches to another sentence entirely after the one that's cut off. He watches it with the steady weight of his eyes before swallowing this particular mouthful. "My eight turn old is better at being deceptive than you." He comments casually before he waves further discussion of the exact specifics away. It's not really important, ultimately. "Taikrin's not a screw-up yet. But she is an unpredictable moving target. You never know where she's going to land next, sometimes. Will it be reasonable suggestions or rage against a slight from young riders without any sense? Cool calculation or fury?" The shoulders come up. Who knows?

"Didn't expect it'd come back and bite you," is K'del's correction, offered up with his lifted eyes, unrepentant. "Unpredictable. That's the point, isn't it? How's a Weyr supposed to function, if you never know what your supposed leader is going to do next? Bothers me. Why not shore up your leadership with someone people can respect? Trust." If there's more to that thought, he evidently chooses not to share it, instead reaching for his mug, which he refills from a pitcher of beer that someone presumably had sent in from the Snowasis. "Anyway. Imagine she's not going to be much thrilled with Taiga, either, now."

"A lot of not thinking or expecting going around lately." Z'ian comments dryly, though whether the comment is directed at K'del or not really isn't very clear. He's plowing through the food on his plate at the predictably quick rate. "I don't know if they're the same thing, exactly. But no, the wings at least can't be expected to perform well if they're existing in a state of flux and fear." He agrees readily as he reaches for his glass again. "Probably not. F'manis is entrenched enough that he can take whatever she hits him with." Then with a roll of his eyebrows and a flash of that easy smile he tags on, "Hasn't been happy with Boreal ever. And definitely not now. But Iceberg's got her main attention now, I hear. D'nis is giving her hell."

In this mood, K'del seems to intend to take Z'ian's words as not being about him, as such, and only smiles, blandly, around the rim of his mug. "D'nis would. Always did like that man. Getting him promoted-- and you-- are probably the only two decent things-- Well." He stops. Mentioning H'kon is probably not a good thing to do, and it seems like he knows it, given the abrupt furrow of his brow, and hasty sip from his mug. "Boreal, Iceberg, even Avalanche-- and Taiga, too, now. She'll have her hands full, one thing and another. Can't ever keep everyone happy. Pretty sure half the reason F'manis picked me was to bug her."

"We'll see if I can keep it." That promotion. Z'ian's plate is close to finished and he knocks back some of the drink in his glass. "I've been walking the line as reasonably as I can, but I'm not F'manis, I'm not Sisha." Not a long-standing Wingleader with strong alliances whose removal would cause disturbance. "Even some of Glacier walked out when Aishani made that announcement at the hatching. I can't imagine that they're all fully in support of this either. They're likely just waiting for the right moment to push." He pauses, eyebrows lifting. "At least that's word out in the bowl." A short laugh comes from him and he smiles quickly. "Yeah, probably. But you are damn pretty. At least you'll look good while you're giving her some more grey hairs."

"Reckon she'll try and de-prettify me a bit in the process? Bet that's half the problem between her and me: I'm prettier." K'del's mouth twitches in mirth as he says that, but afterwards, as he leans back into his chair, nursing his mug, he sighs. "Mmm. Can't imagine the old Glacier guard'd be much okay with any of this, not that I've spoken to them. Know plenty of people aren't. Most of the lower caverns, too. Just--" he straightens, abruptly, eyes focusedly on Z'ian. "If she takes your Wing away from you, and I become Weyrleader again, I'll make sure you get it back. That's a lot of ifs, I guess, but I'm just, you know, saying. In the meantime, you've got to lead Boreal as best you can, to your standards, not hers."

"Thing is..." Z'ian begins, so casual. "You hit a man, you make him more handsome. You hit a woman? Not so much. It's a lose-lose for her, right?" His smile turns crooked, a little mischivous for the bad man-gossiping-girl-talk. The food on his plate is finished, the remains picked away at with his fork. "I don't speak with that crew much either. I think the fire could be out in them, but they might rally behind someone else." Of course he doesn't really know, so there's a gentle lift of his shoulders for it. His lips curve again and he exhales. "I've been thinking." Famous last words. "If she tries to take it from me, I don't know that I'll give it up without a fight. Who is she going to give it to, anyway? One of her friends? Can't imagine Boreal would like that much. They've only just taken to me." He tips his glass back and and leans back in the chair. "Just promise after she kicks me out, if you get it back? You'll let me back in."

K'del makes an exploratory fist with his hand, that very hand that give N'rov such a lovely black eye only a seven or two ago. His eyes linger on it for a few seconds, then sidle back towards Z'ian who is, after all, still talking. "Good," he says, as his hand relaxes again, dropping back towards his lap. "Fight back. Boreal's lucky to have you, and from the sounds of it, they know it. If Taikrin can't make people respect her, that's not your fault." His lips part in the ghost of a smile, subtle satisfaction playing out about his mouth. "Promise. First thing I do. Recall you from sweeps in the far north, or transfer you back from-- where would you least like to be sent? Wherever. Whatever happens, she's only temporary. There's no way either queen would let themselves be caught by a brown again, not for the Weyrleadership. So."

No, not his fault at all. Even if he may be subtly encouraging it through his actions or lack thereof in some cases. "Thanks. I appreciate the promise." Z'ian grins again and knocks back the rest of his drink, placing it on top of his empty plate with fork. "Where would I really not want to be? Probably somewhere like Monaco or Ista. My delicate skin burns right away. Have you noticed my complexion?" He gestures dramatically towards his face with a wave of his hand. This rider won't be winning any awards for Tannest Man of the Turn. "It's been a long temporary so far. But at least we're under the two turns-ish that'll it take for one of them to rise. Maybe in the meantime something will happen that can tip the scales in the favor of something more favorable."

K'del's chortle is wry. "Can't have your pretty skin burnt away," he agrees, pushing his own empty mug away from the table nearest him, all the better to take up someone else's space, though there are fewer people around already. "Perhaps Hraedhyth will take after her dam," it's studiously casual, perhaps too much so, "and rise quickly. Get it over and done with." Hopefully, without losing the clutch in the process, which is perhaps reason - along with the reference to Iolene - for K'del to look abruptly so green. Blinking it away, he adds, "But - yes. Maybe something will shift things. There's no reason to believe that everything is set in stone."

Z'ian begins to pull the empty dishes towards himself, evident that soon he's going to be about ready to stand. There's something perhaps in the studious, casual tone of the other bronzerider's voice that catches him. But it's not enough for him to make a comment, not enough to know anything really. Just something that slows him enough to look at K'del carefully. Cautiously, maybe? Maybe not. In a second he's laughing playfully as always. "Of course not. The women love me for my creamy skin. Blue eyes. Rosy cheeks." He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. "No, no reason at all. Lets get drinks sometime again, belated celebration for you. Promotion, turnday, etc..."

K'del meets Z'ian's gaze readily enough, but there's something in his expression, still - something that seems to pain him, somehow. He really is not much of a liar. "Let's," he confirms, with a quick nod, abruptly shifting his expression back towards something more positive, more cheerful. "Now that I'm in a Wingsecond's stipend again, I've a few more marks to throw around. It'll be fun. Look after yourself, Z'ian, okay? And Boreal. Don't go down without a fight."

It's not Z'ian's place, not here in the living cavern to question that look. Even if that query is there, somewhere silent in the way he watches the other man. The moment passes and they're on their way to farewells so quickly. "Yeah, I'll make sure that you spend all of them too. Somewhere were suitably dirty." He grins crookedly then before adapting a more sobered expression. "I always do." It seems to be an answer in regards to both himself and his wing. "We're not going down without resistance. See you around, K'del. Take care of yourself too." He inclines his head, smiles once more and slips into the diminishing crowds.

It's only after Z'ian is gone that K'del lets himself look properly horrified. And even then-- well, it's only for a moment.