Difference between revisions of "Logs:In the face of anger"

Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north.

Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.

High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires.

K'del thrusts his hands more deeply, more angrily, into his pockets as he pounds down the steps from the Snowasis and into the bowl. There's no flowerpot kicking this time, but his expression is so upset - frustrated, irritated, even outright angry - that a child could read it. As the wind whips past him, very nearly pushing him backwards, he shoves his body forward, aiming for the waiting Cadejoth, whose eyes whirl with such agitation and concern.

'Reaches weavers did well by Tayte in recommending her cold-weather clothing. They fitted her with a fur-lined cloak, the material a sky-blue color and the fur a mottled white. She always stands out for her colors. It happens that her path took her toward Snowasis - perhaps on her way for one more attempt to catch Anvori at a convenient time about a bartending gig; doing only vintner things is, she's confessed, driving her a little mad. But not the same kind of mad as is so plainly shown on the bronzerider's face. It's a look she catches as he blows right by her, likely not even registering her presence or recognition that it's her, as she's certainly not the only one heading for Snowasis at this hour. "K'del?" It's voiced as a question, so foreign is the expression on his face, and quiet. Then louder, "K'del!" She calls at his back, stepping to retrace her steps, following him further into the bowl.

It's not until the second time his name is called that it seems to penetrate the fog of his emotions, and even then there's no recognition to the way he swings around to face whoever it is, all but bellowing: "What?" It's Cadejoth who is apologetic, making a low sound in his throat and carefully mantling his wings. "Oh."

The all-but-bellow does have Tayte coming up short, blinking at him. Her expression is impossible to read. It's not negative, not hurt, not even showing the confusion that's doubtlessly there. Neither is it her sunny warmth and openness. There's a moment of what would best be described as guardedness, before it's replaced with a neutral look that is simply a little careful. If K'del's been in enough bars, it's the look a bartender gets when they're sizing up if the bouncer needs to intervene. What does she want to ask? There's a pause for her to consider, then, simply, "Hi." A glance beyond to Cadejoth, who gets a smile, her hero, "Heading off somewhere?" She steps closer, closing the gap between them from ten feet to five.

"Off to find a wall to punch," answers K'del, without stopping to think about how that might come across (probably). His agitation is such that he can't seem to stand still: he keeps shifting his weight between one foot and the other, his gaze sliding away from Tayte and towards the Snowasis behind her. "Just... don't." Cadejoth's low rumble is not quite warning, and not quite protective; his tail keeps swishing in the snow behind him, as restless as his rider's legs.

Tayte's ocean eyes study K'del as he answers, his agitation, all the movement, and his pair of words which themselves are something of a warning. "Okay. I won't." Gloved hands hold up in a gesture of acquiescence. Anything she might say more, she seems to realize, will come off either as 'doing' or worse, mothering. "If you want to come by later, just come." No need to send word ahead, "Even if I'm already asleep." It's an offer, without pressure, just left to hang before she takes a step back, turning her eyes to Cadejoth, a little smile for him. Maybe she wishes that this once he could hear what she was thinking.

K'del opens his mouth, ready to blurt something out-- but then he stops himself, shaking his head. "I'll be okay," he says, after a long exhale. "Just need... it's fine. I'm fine." His eyes close. "Just not fit for company right now." He takes a half step backwards, ending up close enough to Cadejoth that the bronze can reach his head down and nudge at his rider, just once... though his whirling gaze is on Tayte, too, and it's almost like a nod. Maybe he can guess. "Thanks."

"I know." Tayte offers easily. Of course he'll be okay. She wouldn't admit to doubting. At least not now. "You'll be fine." She agrees. "Maybe sometime we can go hit walls together. Or sparring mats, they're a little more forgiving on fists. You do know I fight, right?" She's never mentioned it before, so why would he? "I also hit walls. Sometimes." The smile she offers is small, a little sheepish, but maybe it might help him to know she's no less human. "Anyway, I don't want to keep you. I can't imagine the wall would be forgiving if I kept you from your date. And it's never very forgiving to begin with." It's wry humor, but not one designed to sway him from his aim, just-- something. Her way of normalizing things. Trying to help make him feel sane, maybe, or herself, or both.

Again, K'del opens his mouth... and then stops. "Thanks," he says, which doesn't really answer any of what she's said - though perhaps his half nod might. He lifts his hand, now, wiping the drying blood from his lip, but then he turns; he climbs up Cadejoth's forelimb, swings into place, and they lift off the ground together... though the bronze turns his head to rumble back at Tayte once more before they circle higher into the frigid sky.

For all that Tayte took a step back, and then more once he turned to climb into the straps, she doesn't go on her way until they're too small to track. She takes a moment of silence there, the wind toying with the bottom edge of her cloak. Her expression once more qualifies as unreadable, but then she's turning toward Snowasis again, the way he had come, the way she had been going. Now, though, she has a new mission.