Difference between revisions of "Logs:Curiosity"

The chill wind of High Reaches is ever present, particularly during the winter. Thus, it might be difficult at first to discern Leiventh's presence, cloaked as it is in the very same, icy touch. His bassy, rumbling voice thrums through the wind, however, distinctive, « It is warm here, in Monaco. Fires burn, food awaits, and the weather is warm. » A brief pause -- long enough to share an image of the flickering lights of fire and glow-basket alike on an evening where the sun has long set. « Mine thinks you should come. It is too cold in High Reaches. » He is not one for lengthy conversations, and he begins to withdraw just as subtly again, something expectant in his tone. Or perhaps more his lifemate's contribution.

There's not as much of a contrast of climate between Iesaryth's ocean breezes and Leiventh's chill winds; no summer tides this time, something closer to a wintery cold, froth atop the waves impossibly white. « There is not much time for that left. » The queen will be stuck soon, and all anyone will be interested in is eggs. There are more interesting things to consider. She doesn't want to be trapped without seeing the ocean; that might have something to do with the quick agreement. « We will come. » Maybe her rider won't love that, but sacrifices must be made. It doesn't take all that long for the sunny gold to appear in the night skies over Monaco, perhaps a bit bulkier than usual.

The beach is full of people, both from the Weyr and the Hold itself if the knots are anything to judge by. It looks as if they've set up a spit roast on the beach, and most people are finding themselves comfortable spots on the sand, or on blankets. It's a low, pleasant sort of buzz, the type normally generated in a cavern, though it's muted by the sound of the ocean. R'hin's there, chatting with a small group of riders, a half-consumed glass of something already in hand. The watchdragon questions Iesaryth, but it's more out of routine than any alarm, and a moment later Leiventh's silent, rumbling acknowledgement welcomes his daughter.

Iesaryth doesn't need to make a big deal about being there, nor does she need to make a showy landing down the beach from the fires and the people - she's slow about it, but doesn't do more than acknowledge the questioning, the greeting for her sire. When Brieli comes down the sand, she's ditched jacket and boots, the latter in favor of bare feet. It doesn't do much to diminsh her height, which does help in picking out R'hin from the crowd; she slips around the edges easily enough, likewise attempting not to draw too much attention to her presence.

R'hin's actually wearing a shirt tonight, although it's not done up. But he's making an effort (maybe). He's likely as not warned by Leiventh as to Iesaryth's arrival, given he extricates himself shortly thereafter from the group, waving towards the drinks as if indicating his intention. The bronzerider's gaze, when it finally lands on Brieli, is amused -- but then that's normal for him -- and after he nears he reaches out to rest his hand near the curve of her back as if to guide her, gesturing towards the drinks, "White, for you?" No greeting, but then that, too, is normal for him. "There's plenty of food, still -- you really should try the roast wher."

Not that Brieli notices anyone's state of dress or otherwise, no. Just like she doesn't choose her clothes all that particularly, or she doesn't do much with her hair... which might be curling a little more that she might like in the humidity, but she's trying to ignore that. She's less amused, but what would the goldrider be without the dark cloud she drags around? When her path aligns neatly with R'hin's - as it does - she straightens and stiffens slightly at the hand to her back, not entirely impressed with that either. But there's no moving away; too unsubtle! "If that's what you'd suggest. And I'll think about it." The food. "It's raining at home, I think."

It's a sure bet that R'hin notices her lack of amusement, but that doesn't deter him in the slighest. There's no queue; most of the other people present are already well into their drinks, and it's only when they reach the table that his hand drops, in order to collect a glass for her. "The white's very good," the Monacoan agrees, with a smile, reaching for a particular bottle, filling first the fresh glass, then his own. He offers it to her, eyes glimmering a bit with amusement that lingers, "Rain stops you eating? Well, if you're not planning to eat, walk with me, then." A nod down the beach, then an expectant look back at her.

Yeah, Brieli probably notices that lack of deterrent, but she's not going to show her displeasure. Perhaps she suspects R'hin's level of amusement is in direct connection with her level of annoyance. It seems to pass, especially when he's getting her a drink; as she takes the glass from him, fine brows arch a touch. "It wasn't related. Though I suppose I can see how it might seem that way?" Her dark gaze flickers down the beach, and she shrugs, shoulders rising and falling under her curls. "If you like." She'll take a sip of her wine first, to see if it suits.

"Well, you brought it up. Or was it simply an excuse to mention home?" R'hin's gaze alights on her sidelong. The wine is sweet and light, bubbling on the tongue briefly. The bronzerider waits until she's had her sip before he starts to step away down the beach, his hand falling casually into place near the small of her back again. "From what I hear, things aren't going to well with your... acting Weyrleader," a half-beat, "-s."

"The weather. The first and last resort for meaningless small talk. Not something I'm all that good at, but." Brieli might purse her lips a touch as they start down the beach, but she doesn't react in the same way to R'hin's hand at her back as before - she just doesn't react. After another drink as she walks, looking out over the water, "Mentioning home might have been a shortcut. I don't think meaningless small talk is what you're after." There's a significant look for that prompting, but; "Things are going as well as one could expect, given the facts and personalities involved. But far too slowly."

Another darted glance, and the man actually laughs at the idea of small talk, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. While she looks at the water, most of his attention is on her, a rueful sort of smile given at the significant look, as if to confirm -- then, "Far too slowly for you, perhaps. But far too fast for everyone else. You'll lose them, you know, if you try to change too much, too soon. Believe me, I tried." His steps are purposeful, and once they've moved far enough from the crowds near the food, and long enough for his eyes to adjust, he pauses briefly to get his bearings, then a nod of his head, inland.

For the laugh, she can find a faint smile, let it touch her lips, let it linger even as he speaks. Brieli looks down into her glass, noting, "Too slowly for external forces as well, quite possibly. I'm understanding... all of that." It's vague enough, and she's not usually inclined to elaborate, but even so, "I talk to people. I listen. I have some idea of what they want. First, stability. Capacity for change is limited, despite how frustrating limited imaginations are." She's going to just let him lead the way; she knows the beach, but not near as well. There's a beat or two before grimly, "Hopefully, there'll still be the opportunity."

When she mentions 'external forces', there's a brief pause on R'hin's behalf, before he moves to push aside some foliage, indicating he should precede her. There's a small trail, barely visible underfoot, and it opens out into an area full of rocks, bounding a river that flows into the nearby ocean. The sounds of night creatures around them becomes more audible as the sounds of the beach party fade, in turn. Here, the bronzerider pauses a moment, his gaze on the river, taking a deep breath. Finally, his gaze shifts back to her, saying rather simply: "One does not need to transplant an entire grown tree, when one has the time to plant a seed and watch it grow."

It's a bit of a surprise, it seems, for Brieli - whether she noticed that pause or not is difficult to say, but the way she blinks a few times once she's ducked through the greenery is fairly obvious. She's comfortable with silence; it gives her the opportunity to take it all in, dark gaze flickering over the landscape. She's sipping from her glass when he speaks, and she arches fine brows over it for that, just... watching him for a moment. "I know how to be patient. I suppose I don't like it."

R'hin allows a hint of surprise to color his regard of Brieli. "I thought you did patience pretty well, actually," he says, with a little tip of head, but he presses on: "If you don't, then learn. The wheels of Tradition change slowly, and begrudgingly. You've seen what happens to Weyrwoman at the 'Reaches who work only for themselves, or push too hard." He lifts a hand, palm up, "Transfer," then flips his hand over, "Death. Neither of which, I suspect, is particularly appealing to you."

"I've learned. I can be. But it's difficult to..." Brieli considers her words for a moment before, "Wait for the appropriate time, I suppose." It doesn't seem like she's entirely satisfied with her answer, but she likewise moves on, watching R'hin as she listens, brow creasing thoughtfully. Again careful, "The thing that currently worries me more than tradition is indecision. I am concerned that anything but decisive action will not necessarily lead to death, nor transfer - but to losing the Weyr entirely. Which is even less appealing, after everything that's happened." 'Everything' can mean a lot of things. "I don't intend to allow that. Regardless of any issues that come of it."

R'hin takes a considered sip of his wine, savoring it for a moment, though his gaze remains on Brieli throughout. "Losing the Weyr entirely?" he echoes. "What are you afraid of, Brieli? Losing it to K'del?" a beat, "Or to Azaylia?"

Brieli just looks at him for a long moment, somewhere between entertained and honestly bemused. "To Teris. Or possibly someone from Igen, because when I tried to ensure we had Weyrleaders that could stand up to that, or to council, I incited hysterics. There's an interest in replacing us entirely, and no one seems as concerned about that as they should be." A pause, then a ghost of a smirk. "Fear is pointless right now."

"Teris?" the name is practically snorted. "More likely Lujayn than Teris. But," R'hin takes a step, then two, with the intention to stalk around her, to make a point: "That doesn't mean the others aren't circling. Waiting. Watching for an opportunity. Oriane, too," he smiles, at the mention of his Weyrwoman, though it's a bland sort of gesture. "But you shouldn't be surprised. That said, it would take a," he stops, scoops up a rock, and throws it towards the river with a splash, "-dramatic sort of action for the Council to step in. Like... making a decisive decision, if it's the wrong one." He cants a glance at her, meaningfully.

Quietly, "How right you are." It's not even meant to be overheard, likely, said into Brieli's wineglass like that. After another drink, quick to move on and move both - this is not a girl that likes having her back to anyone - she notes dryly, "I've figured that out. I have. I don't know how much attention anyone else pays." That last has an edge of resentment; who else. She rolls her eyes a touch at the demonstration - as if she needed it. "Isn't letting browns catch in a leadership flight a dramatic sort of action? And..." There's a glance back to the river, an expression as if the taste of the wine has gone sour in her mouth. "I am considering my options."

There's a glimmer of amusement -- R'hin likely having noticed her quick movement -- and he finishes off his wine, folding hands behind his back as he finally stops a couple of paces away from Brieli. He would have caught that note of resentment, undoubtedly, yet his expression remains unaffected. "It's not a leadership flight if browns caught. That's a Tradition you'll never break, and if you stick to that line, the Council has no recourse to get involved." He glances down, sets his empty glass on a rock, and reaches for knife on his belt. It gleams, briefly, in the available light, and he offers it to her silently, hilt first.

Unsurprisingly? Brieli is skeptical. It's all there in the quirk of her lips, the dubious slant to her gaze. With an arch of brows, "But things cannot remain... as they are forever. Some decision or another will have to be made. People can't be given multiple chances to continue to divide the Weyr. And if there is any attempt by the Council to intervene, I imagine they'd like to see at least an Acting Weyrleader named. At least." As if she can't even make that happen, what is wrong with these people? She still has wine, but she'll finish it if R'hin's going to reach for weapons; there's a moment where she's tensed and ready for something, but when that doesn't come, she takes the knife gingerly, as if she's not used to them. And instead of asking, she'll just look over questioningly - what now?

Interestingly, R'hin doesn't comment any further on the Council, as if he's said he's piece on the matter. The Monacoan seems amused by her tensing, a quirk of brow his unspoken comment on that -- letting his hands fall to clasp behind his back again after she takes it. The blade isn't much to look at, at first glance -- it's not decorative in any way, but the blade is sharp, and the metal is well-forged, a good balance to it in her hands. "I was at Crom the other day; saw it at the Smith hall. It's apprentice made, but I know good quality when I see it; that apprentice'll make Master," he explains, easily. Then, with a quick smile, "It made me think of you, for some reason." A tip of head; he's watching her carefully.

She has to set down the glass to take a proper look at the knife now, expression carefully neutral. Brieli might try to look like she doesn't know how to handle a blade, but there's something in the way she holds it, possibly tests the balance, puts the lie to that. At least, for someone observant. Observation might also catch the raise of her brows at the mention of the Hold, though when she looks up, there's only a brief smile. "Crom. Really. I don't go back." Dark eyes brightening, "And I'm not sure how I should feel about this making you think of me. But it's appreciated."

It's a good bet that R'hin misses little, especially with the way he watches her, all intent and interested. In turn, she'd catch the little play of a smile that curves the corner of his lips. "I try not to, either. Such a dull place, even when there's a gather. But I was curious." There's a twitch of shoulders, as if to downplay how she should feel, and he reaches to scoop up both her glass and his. "Consider it an impetuous thought on my part," he answers breezily. "Now: how about that food?"

It's so, so difficult for Brieli to not look wary or suspicious... And given she usually has no issues with that, it might be a tell on its own. "Not terribly good memories either." That could refer to either of them, really, and she doesn't clarify. Flicking dark curls back over her shoulders - not with the knife-hand, mind - she notes idly, "I heard curiosity can kill. And you've armed me. Not very wise." There's no warning there, though it might sound like it should be. But breezy, she can do; brisk even better. "Before we go. Shouldn't be gone too long." There could be a rebellion. A coup. A clutching. Anything. She's perfectly fine with heading back to the beach though, and doing her level best to ignore creeping paranoia.

R'hin is nothing if not a gentleman, settling in at her side to escort her back to the beach. There's a low throated chuckle for her comment on curiosity, however, and it's clear he doesn't take it as warning, whether it should be or not: "Only if you're not canny enough to consider what you learnt, and what use it can have." But that's passed off quickly enough, "Good. I wouldn't want it to be said that Monaco faulted its duties as a host." As if he ever cared about such things -- and yet he seems set on keeping the conversation light as they head to collect -- and enjoy -- the multitude of food that the southern Weyr has to offer.