Difference between revisions of "Logs:To The Future"

To Iesaryth, Szadath often varies these days between roiling annoyance and cocksure arrogance. He's more towards the former right now as he barrels his way into Iesaryth's mental presence given that his physical one is, for once, not holding guard on the sands. « Taikrin needs to speak with yours! » There's a 'now' there, though it's as non-verbal as the unspoken roiling anger at the one who would set himself up to be his rival, his bane-- Arekoth.

The sun-splashed waves of the ocean don't quite darken, but maybe chill a little at the unspoken demand, the underwater pressure Iesaryth wields heavier on the brown for a moment. Really. Her tenor comes after a time, unhurried. « When she has time. Where will yours be? » She is on the sands, and has no issues with Arekoth, at the moment - but her rider certainly has no love for Arekoth's. (Iesaryth to Szadath)

Can Iesaryth hear the grinding of the gears in Szadath's mind, like blade-against-blade, as he succumbs under that pressure? Only the undulating beat that belongs to Hraedhyth keeps him from being altogether subdued in his instinctive submission. « Here. » He can't say it, but the image is clearly the council room. « She waits. » (Szadath to Iesaryth)

To Szadath, Iesaryth has no interest in the tides pulling Szadath from the drums that clearly he belongs to; she lightens and lessens as she withdraws, only ocean's whisper remaining. « Soon. »

Taikrin's sitting in the Weyrleader's chair. Unapologetically. At least she's got the pretense of working as an excuse: there are papers and what looks like a formation chart spread across half the table, and she's got smudges of charcoal on her hands and across her cheek. Despite her focus on her work, there are creases on her brow that have furrowed deep with annoyance: perhaps her formation chart has been mouthing off?

Given Brieli's sat in that very chair, can she really blame Taikrin for presumption? The weyrwoman only takes long enough to complete her duties - or perhaps to prove a point - to arrive, coming in from the bowl in her riding jacket and with a folder under her arm, stride customary brisk. She doesn't even pause to take in the situation, regarding the papers, the brownrider, the frown. "The wings are a problem." It's not accusatory, it's not pointed, it just is what it is. "Who would have expected H'kon to do more than stand in the way."

"H'kon is a problem," Taikrin corrects, looking up from her records with a scowl. "He's being puppeted, I reckon. He'd never think of installing a new Wingleader on his own. Maybe Z'ian, or K'del. Maybe both. Maybe he's bending over for half the bronzeriders in the Weyr-- I wouldn't be surprised." Her fist clenches tightly around her charcoal stick, which creaks ominously. "Next thing, he'll be bending over for Telgar. Or Benden. Or Southern. We got to stop him, Brieli."

"Most certainly, he didn't decide to do it on his own. I would guess, from what Z'ian told me..." Brieli tosses her folder on the table in favor of the drink cart, looking Taikrin's way questioningly - want one? "You're right." Pouring out her own glass first, "He'd rather a bronzerider in charge, to be sure. Though I doubt he'll let outsiders do much, if he knows about it. There's that, at least. This Boreal insanity has something to do with Telgar, yes?"

"I'm sure it does," Taikrin says darkly. "Jo hinted she might have something to tell me, the other day, before all this mess exploded. Ain't had time to pin her down. I don't reckon it's too complicated a plot for Telgar to pull off, not with them knowing us as well as they do. And now they're sending us Liv-- it's all very convenient." Taikrin slams the pencil down onto her papers in an outburst surprising only because she's been so good about holding them in over the last few weeks. "I got half the wings behind me, just like you wanted. Appoint me, and I'll back you. I'll take care of the other half of them, and I'll take care of Azaylia. This whole thing is going fucking insane, and if we don't stop it there ain't going to be any fixing it." By the time she's done, her cheeks are flushed and she's half out of her chair with her fervor.

With a sigh, "Jo. That's likely what Z'ian was talking around, too. I haven't had half a chance to talk to her either. And Liv? Who--" Brieli would ask more, but the outburst has her blinking... though it may not be much of a surprise, just given Taikrin has been so reasonable. Rather than answer right away, she regards the brownrider for a long moment, then crosses to the table and gently puts the drink in her hand, places slender hands on her shoulders to sit her back down. "You're doing a good job," she says. "You're trying. I'm sorry no one's giving you credit. I know what that's like." She'll offer the older woman a brief, if wistful smile, then goes to get her own drink. "Azaylia was hysterical when I talked to her about it. I'm partially trying to protect her from having to deal with more... shit than we've already had to. Everything hurts her too much..." A pause. "Do you really think she'll listen to you?"

"I cleaned it up with Azaylia. I don't know what you told her, but she was half convinced Szadath was going to start cozying up with Iesaryth, or that I was going to go and fetch Teris, or something. If I tell her it's for the best, she'll believe me. I am basically her wingleader, ain't I?" Taikrin's lips turn into what's almost a smile, save for the sharp bite in her voice. "You let me handle her. And then wings. I can take care of it, but I can't do it on my own authority. It ain't enough." After her outburst, she's a little calmer. More reasonable. Logical, even, though with still a hint of heat. "We got to take control while there's still something to take. You got to know this."

Pouring out another drink, "All I tried to tell her is that we'd appoint you, and I would be Senior in name only, essentially, and then she started... talking about things like that and crying. I told her things would be the same. I may have been harsh in the end, but that's what got her out of her weyr after Ysavaeth went between." Coming back to the table, glass in hand, Brieli arches fine brows a touch. "I thought she was with the queen's wing - such as it is - now? And... I hope you can. But I really thought she'd trust that I meant it to be for the best too. And you saw the result." She can look a bit regretful for that, sipping at her drink. "Yes. I do." And that sounds regretful too. "I can give you the time to talk to her, if you think it'll help. But there's no other options. Even if Telgar's dealt with, there's Igen and others."

"Sure, she might fly with the queen's wing, but her heart's Glacier. She'll always be Glacier, deep down. And Glacier is mine now." In this, at least, Taikrin is supremely confident. "I'll handle her," she reconfirms. "I got plenty of experience at this." For a moment she's quiet, gazing measuringly at Brieli and her drink. "Give me an hour. I'll bring her around. She understands how important it is for the Weyr to be united. I'll have to fix this disaster with Z'ian and S'varis before it goes too far-- well. Get there next. First things first, yeah?"

"It is, indeed. And I suppose you have a certain amount of experience with handling upset women. How is Riorde doing, by the way?" Because last Brieli saw, the other brownrider was off dancing with former-Exile-slash-Lord-Holders. How she conveys that sort of thing in the arch of fine brows over glass is a mystery, but there it is. "And the wings would be yours, but I'd imagine Z'ian would be grateful if you could find a way for him to save face in this mess, yes? He's fairly reasonable, despite... K'del." Her disgust is palpable. "If you convince her, it'll be announced tomorrow. Done. No more fucking around."

"Riorde's fine," Taikrin asserts, a faint crease of confusion on her brow. "She's been a big help with day-to-day in the wing-- especially since I ain't got a second. Don't know how I'd get on without her." Taikrin rises fully, so that she can shuffle her papers together into a messy sheaf. "Done. I'll have it worked out by tonight. We can keep this from going too far. There's still time." And then she hesitates over her paperwork, fingers toying with a corner-- and then extends her hand towards Brieli to shake. "We can do this together."

There's only a nod, but Brieli pauses, confused. "Why don't you have a second? You should. I imagine, though, that will be a more... serious choice if it's Weyrsecond we're talking about. But I'm glad you have some help. There'll be more work to come." She sets down her glass, trying not to regard Taikrin dubiously about the whole 'worked out by tonight' thing. "Be careful," she warns, perhaps unnecessarily. "She's fragile. I do care about her. I just... want us to be strong." As the brownrider offers her hand, she too hesitates, but then moves swiftly to cross palms with the other woman in a solid shake. "You have my word. We can."

Taikrin doesn't let herself worry about this business of a second, not when she's so busy smiling at Brieli with genuine pleasure over their briefly joined hands. "I care about her too. I'd never do anything to hurt Azaylia-- you have my word. We'll take care of her, and the Weyr. We will." When she pulls away, it's to gather her folio to her side, and to finally relinquish (for now) the Weyrleader's chair. "I'll go find her now. Make a night of it. She'll be fine. We'll have to have a drink, later, when this all settles. To the future?"

All Brieli does is worry. Or, at least, concern herself with possibilities - and by her expression, faintly uncertain, she's definitely got a few less-good possibilities in mind. "Good. Szadath can let Iesaryth know how it goes?" If Hraedhyth doesn't first. She too takes up her folder and her glass, though she seems to have the records room as a destination in mind. "That sounds like a plan. And if she and Bones haven't eaten all the cake I've sent, you ought to try it. I sent someone to Bakercraft." She tilts her glass Taikrin's way, with a smile of her own. "To the future."

"I'll look for the cake," Taikrin acknowledges dutifully. But then she's ready to head on her way, but not without a lazy salute that complements her crooked smile, and a very sincere, "Have a good evening, Weyrwoman." Can Brieli hear the capital?