Difference between revisions of "Logs:YOU."

It's evening, a quiet sort in the Weyrwoman's weyr. Iovniath is freshly bathed and freshly oiled, and Tiriana is much the same herself. She's got a drink in hand, the fire stoked high, and her legs curled under her as she relaxes on her plush couch, all comfortable-like. It's very peaceful, imagine that.

Peaceful-- but not for long. Cadejoth's extended length of chain is both a warning and an apology to Iovniath, though not for everything. Which isn't to say that he chides with that touch, but there's a reservedness unlike him, and a sadness, a chain link being pulled away from him and lost from his 'pack'. K'del is not far behind his lifemate, his footsteps angry and his voice, when he storms around the corner and into the weyr, no different. "The /fuck/ are you playing at, Tiriana?" he yells.

Whatever R'uen was doing in the bedroom (dressing, the damp towel around his neck might suggest) as there's sudden yelling in the weyr, he's quick to poke his head out with a serious look for Tiriana, whether she bothers to look at him or not.

Iovniath's touch is cool at first, and then frigid, ice crystallizing up those links of chain as Cadejoth's temper is realized. Tiriana is made aware of it a second later, just in time to cock her head and stare at K'del as he stomps in. "The fuck?" she returns, more confused than angry at this point in the night. As though this were commonplace, too (and maybe it is), she takes another slow sip of her drink.

Ignoring R'uen (for now), K'del crosses the rest of the distance between himself and Tiriana, hands on hips and expression livid. "Oh, because you have /no idea/ at all what I'm talking about, of course," he all-but-snarls. "Ezalea? Meteorites? A whole major hold and group of minors that are going to be out for our blood very shortly, no doubt, because you've just defrauded them." Cadejoth draws back some, but that thread of chain remains: he knows, he's disappointed. He's /so/ disappointed in her.

Okay, so R'uen doesn't seem entirely surprised that the Weyrleader might show up to scream at his weyrmate, but he doesn't look like he's about to leave them alone together either. Instead, he pulls the towel up over his head to continue drying his hair while he listens to the somewhat vague accusations pile up. He should probably hope that the corner of the towel hides the smirk that creeps up in the middle. At least it's followed by a concerned frown. Meanwhile, though he hangs back much as his lifemate does, Zaiventh rumbles deeply, support for the gold.

"The fuck," Tiriana says very deliberately, her drink set aside on the end table. "Are you talking about. Defrauded--have you been talking to that damn harper? That fucker, I'm going to have his head on a stick." Right now, apparently, as she's stretching her legs out to stand and go storming after their lawyer. Iovniath, meanwhile, is an ice castle, rebuffing both bronzes and secure in her frozen self.

"No," says K'del, sharply, angrily, spitting the word out scornfully. "And don't you fucking go anywhere, not while I'm still talking to you." He takes a breath, and it's definitely not a calming breath: if anything, he looks more angry. "I've been talking to Ezalea. Who came to /me/ and told me everything. You /stole/ their money. Just... took it, because you decided they didn't deserve it. That we did. You don't get to make that kind of decision. You /defrauded/ them." Maybe repeating the word a whole bunch will make it sink in? Maybe not. His gaze flicks towards R'uen for a moment, then back to Tiriana, waiting for her response.

"Is that what she's telling you? That lying bitch, I'll have /her/ head," Tiriana threatens. Her own temper piques now, mouth set in a thin line and shoulders stiff. "Those damn holders started whining practically before the night was out for us to go clean up their land for them, and we did. We did all the labor, and they think we owe /them/ because they happened to have a rock fall out of the sky and mess up their poor crappy half-assed /fence/?" So much for not going anywhere; she stands up and moves to brush past K'del toward the door.

The more detail that leaves K'del's mouth, the more slowly R'uen towels his head, until the movement ceases altogether and he's looking between the two Weyrleaders like they've both lost their minds. "I'm confused, is someone actually blaming meteorites on Ti? Doesn't that sort of color the likeliness that their accusations are founded on sense?"

K'del moves to grab for Tiriana's arm, hopefully to hold her back; perhaps his words will do a better job, though, as he says, "She's leaving. Back to Igen. But she's gone and told her family, first. Balen knows. The rest will follow." He's so angry that R'uen might as well not be there, but something in that question just makes him laugh and laugh and laugh, a hysterical kind of sound. "Oh, no. No, no. No, your sweet little weyrmate kept the proceeds from the sale of those meteors. Kept them. Not just from /our/ meteor, but from theirs, too. All of it. Because, what, they don't deserve it? She deserves everything those holds give her in return, and then some. Only it's not just about her, is it? They'll blame the weyr. They'll stop tithing and they'll starve us all."

"Good fucking riddance," snaps the woman. It does, at least, stop her marching after Ezalea, from lack of need more than anything K'del says or days. His words, though, have her seething, and while she stops short of physical violence for now, she definitely takes a step closer to him, livid. "What, you think I kept it for myself? Fuck you, K'del. It's all in the Weyr's books--check them, if you like. We lost our fucking star stones; somebody had to do something. --Now get. Your fucking hand. Off me."

R'uen's been pretty distant throughout the yelling, but there's a good deal more sharpness in his eyes when K'del grabs Tiriana by the arm. "She doesn't have money squirreled away in here to buy herself dresses and jewels," Rev points out, stepping closer. He doesn't mention the weyrleader getting his fucking hands off Ti, but the look is there nonetheless.

Scorn, this time; "I know that." He lets go, but his hand stays close: he obviously doesn't trust her not to go for the physical violence option. "That doesn't make it fucking /right/. You can't just take what belongs to other people. You can't--" He has to break off in order to take a breath, and perhaps to stop /himself/ from being violent. Instead, more quietly; "You've lost your only Junior. And Lujayn won't come back. She's happy. Happier without you. Better off, too, not branded by your lying, cheating crap. You'll take us all down, you idiot."

Tiriana's arms drop to her sides when K'del releases her, hands balled into fists until her nails cut into her palms. But she doesn't hit him, not now; her anger takes a coldly furious turn more often found in Iovniath. "At least I'm willing to do something," she snarls. "At least I don't sit on my ass and wring my hands and go, 'oh, no, however will we pay for this?' Somebody has to be the bad guy, and nobody else here has the fucking balls to do what we have to do."

R'uen takes a little glance at the weyrwoman's balled fists, just to make sure they're staying put. "It's not like the star stones are some useles monument. They have to get fixed sooner or later. For everyone's welfare," he says, ridiculously calm compared to the other voices in the room.

K'del's eyes roll, as he swings around to look at R'uen, incredulous. "Duh," he says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world-- and, well, it's not that far off. "But," and now he turns back around to stare at Tiriana, head shaking. "That doesn't mean we can just stomp over everyone else. You think it won't impact us? You think they won't retaliate? You've screwed us, not saved us. /Screwed/ us. High Reaches Hold /liked/ us, and now? They're going to fucking hate us. So, thanks to you, we have a hold about to hate us, no junior golds, and you-- /you/. And I get to fix it."

Tiriana snorts. "Like you can fix anything," she scoffs at K'del. Picking up R'uen's line of thought, "They should consider it an investment. In their own future well-being, what with the Star Stones being sort of fucking important." Another breath's huffed out, and then she turns away, walks away from K'del toward the inner weyr past her weyrmate. "If they come calling, send them to me and I'll handle them. You don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything."

"If it's so obvious," R'uen adds, not resorting to 'duh' himself, "Then it should be clear to the Holds that it's in their own interest to repair the stones. They aren't being stomped on." Of course, his efforts to be a completely unwanted voice of reason are all in vain, since Tiriana goes huffing past him. Then Rev's glance turns to K'del, to see if the Werywoman's brush-off has any chance of succeeding.

"Like fuck I will." Send them to Tiriana. K'del looks like he's about to hurry after Tiriana, follow her into the inner weyr, but he holds back, leaning heavily on his backfoot as he scowls after her. "Hope you enjoy not having a junior to dump things on. Good news for Teris, I guess. She can do /all/ of the boring bits, now. You're going to regret this. You're... /Fuck/." Now that she's going, he turns his attention towards R'uen, shakes his head, rolls his eyes again. "Yeah, and going about that by just /taking/ their money? Oh, sure, they're going to /love/ that. And if you can't see that either, then you're more stupid than I thought." He turns and heads out without another word, obviously in disgust.

Tiriana's gone, ignoring K'del and his ranting now in her own lofty superiority of purpose. But Iovnaith is suddenly there, a firm cold pressure at Cadejoth's mind, and while she doesn't voice words, the intent is as clear as the glass wall that closes the space between herself and her mate. They aren't welcome here, not anymore.

Cadejoth can take a hint, but as that wall rises between them, he shares just one last thought: the disappointment, the betrayal, the sense that he thought so much more of his mate, and how he shall have to protect their pack on his own. Oh, poor Cadejoth, and his now-knotted chains! K'del's departure is much more silent, since he ignores R'uen and says nothing, leaving nothing but the sound of stomping from his footsteps as he makes his way back through the hall to his own weyr.