Difference between revisions of "Logs:In Peace and Protest"

Deliciously Shadowed Nooks and Crannies Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

The entrance to the weyr is straight and narrow, a dragon couch taking up most of the space there. Once past the couch, the room opens up incredibly to reveal a truly odd bit of artistry. This part of the weyr is a nearly perfect circle and actually quite small. The cathedral ceiling is domed and appears twice as high as the ones found in most rooms at High Reaches. The unusual stonecutter that designed this weyr certainly had his own sense of style. A gigantic glow basket has been hung in the center of the doomed ceiling, though the light it spreads downward are like gloomy fingers grasping from above. A rope runs from the basket through a series of loops along the side of the wall, tied off where it can be easily reached to lower the glows for changing. The dim light of the weyr washes over the walls, revealing tiny glints and sparkles here and there. All over the wall of the cavern from about five feet off the ground to about twelve feet overhead, hewn nooks have been left. The lower ones contain odd bits, mostly hides filed away in accordance to some system known by the weyr's inhabitant, some pens, some small trinkets, a bottle or two of good whisky. The higher nooks are more eye-catching, each containing a glass bottle or dish of some sort which causes the eerie glittering.

What little floor space there is is taken up by carefully placed furniture. A loft frame, once a bed, now serves as storage space for several trunks and few dishes, the mattress laid out on simple wooden risers below. Opposite the bed, a small, round table sits surrounded by three chairs - one small, two large, all without cushioning and armless. Kept to the side is a folding wooden stepladder, rungs smoothed and lightened by regular use.

A rattle of chains precedes Cadejoth's arrival-- that, and the faintly amused, « We come in peace. » As dubious as that sounds (which may be pretty dubious). It's the day after mock 'fall over High Reaches Hold - cool and damp, but not wet, and not cold, not by High Reaches standards. The pale, green-bronze form of K'del's dragon is visible at first in the sky above Arekoth's ledge, and then, without waiting for answer, he drops towards a landing upon it. Even from a distance, it would be difficult to miss K'del's stoney face.

Much as they were for the mock threadfall, H'kon and Arekoth are in their weyr. Arekoth sits out in the dampness, wings tucked up around him, head ducked down, but eyes sharp on the goings-on of the bowl. And then on Cadejoth. That brown doesn't move for him, oh no. That brown just stares at him all the way down, and ruffles his wings (and sticks them out a bit more) to make the landing all the more difficult. « Yup, here you come. » H'kon is less flippant, and more cautious, when he moves from the depths of the weyr to its entrance, and eyes up K'del.

It's a good thing Cadejoth is not an especially large bronze-- it's even better that he's able to squish himself up as much as possible so as to get in that landing without toppling off towards the distant bowl floor. It's awkward, though. « And here we are. Shall I leave him? » Will he be safe? At least his thoughts promise that peace. From K'del's end of things. The bronzerider, however, doesn't make any immediate move to dismount. His mouth opens. And... no words come out. At first. Finally, "Wanted to apologise." It's not awkward at all. Really.

« Oh, I definitely think you should, » has just the right chill and smile behind it, and Arekoth lowers his head to where those sharp features can be seen best, at their most fierce. Wings ruffle again, and stay a little bit too outstretched for (Cadejoth's?) comfort. H'kon stations himself, meanwhile, just on the ledge side of the divide between it and the weyr, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks up, stoney-faced. There's no outward reaction to the bronzerider's introduction by way of expression - just a slight lift of his chin.

« I'll stay. » Even if it's uncomfortable. At least he's bigger than the brown, and can sort of loom, a little, in what space there is. It's a pity he's so skinny, of course, but... you use what you have. Whatever that is. K'del's mouth opens again. It's unlikely that he's expected much more from the brownrider, but-- that doesn't make this any less awkward. "So, uh-- I'm sorry. For trying to hit you. Reckon there's not a lot of point me trying to explain, so I won't. It-- won't happen again. Things are better now." For... him? Presumably.

Green eyes play over the other man, though H'kon's mouth stays frowny. His eyebrows stay frowny. His face stays the Face. Arekoth keeps eying K'del too, just as encouragingly as before. « Make yourself comfortable. » The brown stretches his wings out a little bit more, and leans toward the bronze. When H'kon finally speaks, it's certainly not to address his dragon's behaviour. "I did not do that for which you blame me. I would not."

This draconic posturing is probably not terribly comfortable for K'del, but he stays where he is even so. Cadejoth shifts, but not to pull away: if Arekoth wants to lean in to him, let him do so. He's quite comfortable, thank you very much. K'del's cheeks turn red, and it's not because of the cool breeze. After a moment he says, simply, "I know."

There's the slightest narrowing of his eyes as H'kon turns that simple response over for a time. When it is finally acknowledged, it's with a "Hm," and a sharp nod of his head. The brownrider is halfway to turning his shoulders, and preparing his feet to follow them back to his weyr, when he thinks to glance to K'del once more, eyebrows lifting faintly. In case he's not done. Arekoth breathes a heavy waft of dragonbreath over to help K'del think.

Having made his admission, K'del seems more awkward than ever - he even sits awkwardly, more like a weyrling might, or any person riding something for the first time. He abruptly turns his head away as Arekoth's breath overtakes him; he coughs, just once. "Don't expect anything from you. Certainly not trust. Just-- we do want the same thing." Which could mean a lot of things, but oh, how earnest his tone is. "I wouldn't have flown yesterday either, if I'd had the option. That's all. I'll go now."

It's just a flicker of a glance to Arekoth, and though the dragon doesn't stop breathing, he does at least stop breathing directly upon K'del. And goes back to staring. « Still comfortable? » H'kons, "Did you not?" is serious and weary, a newfound focus now on K'del.

K'del's shrug is easier than the rest of his actions, thus far. "I have no quarrel with my Wingleader," he says, quietly. "We flew for Taiga, not for Taikrin. That's what we'll continue to do, until such time as we have a real Weyrleader to fly for." « Perfectly, » says Cadejoth. « Your ledge isn't so bad. Perhaps we'll stay. »

"Nor do I," is abrupt. "You of all should know my duty to Avalanche. Perhaps, having not become accustomed to being at the top of it, I am more aware of what will or will not come of attempting to maintain some chain of command. I do not do this lightly. I do it morally." H'kon's words are cramped together in a rush, but not barbed. Arekoth's, « Careful, » almost is. « I like to stretch out at night, » is less so.

A low breath escapes through K'del's teeth, and then, abruptly, he nods. His, "I know," is quiet, barely above a whisper. "There is a movement against her. Still. Perhaps more than ever, now. You're not alone. It doesn't go... unnoticed." Though there's awkwardness there, too, and the definite sense that, perhaps surprisingly, K'del doesn't seem himself as the leader of this, not even as a figurehead. Not now. "That's all. Thank you for listening." Cadejoth's, « We could cuddle, » is amused. Teasing.

« That's what I meant by 'careful'. » Arekoth is eyeing up that bronze now. At least it might serve as a bit of respite for his rider. H'kon grimaces, and lifts his chin up again, crossed arms tightening about his chest. "There is no sense of honour or duty in following someone who calls themselves 'leader' without legitimate claim. Look what that has earned us. We are a headless Weyr, left only to reflex." It's more the nod, then anything, that serves as farewell.

"Yes," agrees K'del. "That's so." He could say more - but he doesn't. His nod, one to match H'kon's, and then he's urging Cadejoth away. « Well, » says the bronze, as he launches himself back into the air. « If you say so. » It's... like an improvement.