Difference between revisions of "Logs:Obligation"

It's a clear summer night at Ista, which means hot - though down by the water, there's ocean breezes enough to cool things down to bearable. There's always a few dragons that dot the beach, a sunny gold amongst them, bright even in dim moonlight. Iesaryth isn't swimming, just content to watch the waves roll in as she's curled up in the sand, perhaps echoing the roar that so often accompanies her thoughts. She's presumably waiting for her rider, who's claimed herself a table in the nearby bar, dressed in what passes for casual for Brieli - tailored shorts, a crisp white shirt. There's only one glass in front of her, but it looks as if at least one of the nearby chairs has been abandoned at some point. She's leaning back in her chair, long legs crossed at the ankle as she watches the night's patrons, apparently idly - though her dark gaze is sharp as it flickers around the space.

Given the warm nature of the summer evening, it's not too surprising that the bar has quite a few occupants -- not all of them native, either. A group of patrons enter from the docks area, at least one wearing an Istan knot, but others going without, likely as not due to their casual attire. The group's quite lively, and a close ear might detect a number of different accents as they settle at a nearby table. A couple of members of the group head towards the bar itself to order drinks -- one a pretty-faced blonde girl, the other a familiar figure. R'hin's wearing a dark gray shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of long, tan pants -- a stain of water at the ankles. They're casually jostling each other as they wait for the attention of the bartender, not in too great a hurry.

A close ear might, not that Brieli just hangs about in bars eavesdropping on conversations, no. That would never happen, but for all the time. The tall dark girl's gaze shifts to the group entering, as many people's do, then swings away - even if she's noticed R'hin, it's possible that she's not sure if she wants to be noticed in return. So while they all approach the bar, she's likewise in no hurry to move, to lean forward and pick up her glass, considering it. There's not much left; she might be able to finish it and slip out. She might, but she doesn't just yet - she'll just take a drink and listen.

Finally the bartender swings their way, and orders are placed -- pitchers of beer, bottles of wine, and a tray full of glasses. The pair have their hands full on the way back to the table, but it's old habit for R'hin to scan the bar as he's moving. There's a flicker of recognition as his gaze passes over Brieli, a quick, surprised twitch of lips, though he doesn't pause. At the table, there's some lively chatter as they pour and sort out drinks -- murmurs here and there of "celebration", and "job well done" are voiced. It certainly gives enough time to slip out unnoticed, and it would seem that the fact that Brieli doesn't is taken as tacit invitation -- as R'hin eventually emerges from the group, having secured a bottle and a couple of glasses. There's no subtly about his approach -- he walks directly up to her table, sets bottle and glasses down, and then takes a seat with a perfunctorily, "May I?" after the fact.

If Brieli is actually paying all that much attention to the group at the nearby table, she doesn't indicate it - there might be a brief glance their way as the lot sit and sort out who's drinking what, but it doesn't linger. And while the goldrider hasn't yet left when R'hin walks over, her glass is now empty in her hand. So who knows what her plans might have been? The way he takes her continued presence as invitation might arch fine brows, but she's manners enough to pull herself from lounging as he sits, set her empty glass down. "I suppose," she says, lips quirking briefly. "Though it doesn't matter much now. Evening." Her last isn't quite pointed, but there's some weight there, like hello.

"You're welcome to storm out dramatically," R'hin points out, without a trace of apology, "Though that in itself might start tongues wagging." He focuses on the bottle, pouring out each glass with the care of someone who has an appreciation for a good drop. He sets a glass in front of her, next to her empty one, then reaches for her own. The wine is a white, and if tasted will be bubbly and fruity, a well-chosen vintage. It's the faint weight to the last word that has him refocuses on the other rider now, with a dark chuckle. "Come now. One doesn't come to a bar out of one's own Weyr, sans knot, and expect duties, surely. Somehow I doubt you'd want Monaco's, anyway. Would you like to make a toast?" he switches smoothly from one topic to the next, lifting his glass and looking at her, expectantly.

"Not in the mood," Brieli sighs tragically, as if it's such a terrible thing that she's not going to cause a scene. Resting her elbow on the table, chin in hand, she watches R'hin pouring out the glasses. Her empty one is much shorter than a wineglass, but that doesn't stop her from drawing the full one closer, though she doesn't drink just yet. "I expect very little. I appreciate a greeting of some kind. But I don't expect much." Her tone isn't at all pointed now; apparently it's a general thing. "And I don't really wear a knot anyway." She has to straighten to pick up her glass, though her expression is dubious, even for something as simple as a toast. "To what? Are you celebrating something?" That much, she'd noticed.

"Maybe later," R'hin says, with a brief, genuine grin. His shoulder lifts-and-drops in the briefest of shrugs. "Don't take it personally. I tend to skip greetings in favor of getting to the heart of a matter. It's been a long time since I was obligated to." He leans forward as he explains, as if he finds it important for Brieli to understand. He glances over his shoulder at the group he's left behind: they're chattering loudly over one another now -- then back to the goldrider with the slightest shake of his head. "To whatever you'd like," he replies, with a smile, somewhat wry. "A prosperous Turn. A few months without drama. Whatever your heart desires, Brieli." And while his fingers twist the glass in hand, he doesn't sip yet, temptation otherwise, apparently waiting for her.

Brieli can be agreeable; "Anything is possible. And I don't. There's not much worth taking personally." It's flip enough to be just words, but... "Obligated," she echoes, tilting her head as she regards R'hin for a moment. "I suppose social niceties could be considered obligations. Everything is in a way, I suppose." She's self-aware enough to know how that sounds, to roll her eyes a little afterward. After following his gaze to the other table briefly, she considers, fine brows drawn together - probably for much longer and more seriousness than it all deserves. "Peace of mind," she offers eventually, tilting her glass his way. With a wry smile, "Like I said. I don't expect much."

R'hin goes quiet as Brieli speaks, pale gaze on hers, before he nods, oddly solemn in response to her toast. "To peace of mind," there's a kind of fervent undertone in the way he says it, before he lifts his glass, tips it briefly in her direction, and takes a long drought. Afterwards, "I don't know. For some of us, peace of mind is one of those aspirations that we hope to achieve, yet know in our hearts we'll never reach." He seems more thoughtful than anything else, though his gaze lingers on her still. "At least you'll have peace on the Monaco front for now. You'll always be welcome, of course -- Iesaryth is Leiventh and Zaisavyth's daughter -- but Oriane thinks it best to to distance Monaco from High Reaches." Should he be telling her that, so up front? Still, the bronzerider seems so self-assured as to make it seem doubtful it's a lie.

After a drink from her own glass, Brieli is somewhat sobered, looking into it afterward. "Perhaps more to expect than I'd thought. I-- Well. It's not all that easy, no." There's a moment where she's faintly troubled, but it passes into something more neutral; it always does. Glancing back up to R'hin, she's obviously skeptical, for all that it doesn't sound like a lie. "For now," she points out - as if she has to - shaking her head a little. "I don't see that lasting, for some reason. And I can't say I'm surprised, about the distancing. Who wouldn't want to do that, after everything?" She might have a point. "Though I appreciate the welcome, such as it is. I think we won't be pushing things for a little bit, at least."

"For now," R'hin agrees, without any attempt to disassemble. He takes another sip of the wine, not in any hurry -- content to savor the taste of the fine liquid. "And that's probably for the best. I must say though," he pauses, gaze flickering towards the roof, "--I'm quite surprised how much you and Azaylia are traveling at a time like this. I'd think you'd stay closer to home to help -- ease hearts and minds. No matter how much they claim otherwise, no Weyr likes their weyrwoman traveling overmuch." There's a hint of derision, like he disagrees with that.

If Brieli is appreciative for the lack of pretense, she doesn't really show it - though she'll shrug a little for his agreement, what can you do? However, her brows arch again at 'how much', for all that she just seems amused. "We barely left for months. And I'd personally like to think that no one pays much attention to who's slipped off for a few hours. Azaylia hardly ever leaves." She won't claim the same, not with her trips to Fort and all over. Even so, she pauses before admitting, "I'd not really considered it, to be honest. And I don't think I care. I don't like the idea of some nebulous group of people deciding what I do with my time, and where. That's not an obligation." And she'll drink to that, if not too quickly.

If anything, R'hin's surprised: "Of course they pay attention. They're watching you and Azaylia both, waiting to see who will be Weyrwoman. What else would you expect?" There's, perhaps, a tip of head at her comment of Azaylia, yet he brings glass to his mouth to wet his lips before he continues. "Whether you like it or not is irrelevant. Being a leader means you're beholden to the people you lead -- and it means you have to sacrifice your own preferences sometimes. Ignoring public opinion is what got your exile Weyrwoman into such a mess." There's nothing apologetic there, just bland honesty. "I'd suggest you don't follow her lead. One should always buck tradition carefully." He sounds like he's speaking from experience, and there's a dark humor as he says it, tugging hands through his hair, attention drifting towards the rowdy group and lingering.

"That's been happening on and off for some time, the waiting. And I'd like to think that." Brieli smirks a touch as she sets down the half-empty glass. "I'd like to think a lot of things. I'd also argue that the people have little to no right to my business." Whatever that may be, whether that's actually the case or not. There's a purse of lips before, grimly, "I don't need to hear about sacrifice. And yes, I've been getting that impression." Something about the advice, about Iolene's mistakes has her expression shading darker, uncomfortable. "Her lead," she echoes, wryly. "Right." As R'hin's attention shifts, her gaze flickers between the bronzerider and the others, thoughtful. "I'm always--" Wait. Stop. Correct. "I'm almost always careful. I also pay attention to what people are saying." If she has questions, they go unvoiced for the time being - instead, lightly, "I ought to get home, then. Before it's past my bedtime." Her tone is the only thing that saves it from being bratty.

A slight grimace, maybe something sympathetic, from R'hin: "If you weren't a goldrider, no one would have a right to know your business. But--" he spreads his hands. "You don't have to like it. No one does. But it is what it is." His attention is drawn back towards Brieli, a genuine smile appearing as she speaks of being careful. Another sip; he doesn't ask, for once isn't nosy. Instead, when she speaks of bedtime, he counters, "There's almost an entire bottle to finish, and you're more than welcome to join us." His demeanor is light, almost pleasant, sliding to his feet and reaching for the bottle, gesturing towards the loud group, and looking back to observe Brieli's reaction.

With a little shake of her head, Brieli notes, "Everyone says that, and yet... there's a line. I'm not sure that it has to be all or nothing." Maybe it's more that she hopes it's not, but she seems determined enough to maintain what little privacy she has. When R'hin smiles, she can't help but flash one in return, brief but bright. "Almost always, to my detriment. And..." There's a moment where she glances from her glass to the other table, the loud table. But, even so, amused; "If you don't think anyone's going to have issues with us being away for a bit longer." Since, you know - that's apparently a problem. She's already picking up her glass though, rising from her seat.

"I am not beholden to High Reaches, if you hadn't noticed," R'hin says, wryly. "You're a grown woman. If you choose to ignore my advice, who am I to argue?" Especially when he's encouraging it? There's an amused glitter of eyes as she picks up her glass, as if it's confirmation of her decision. With a gesture, he steps to her side to escort her the -- admittedly short -- distance towards the table. While the group welcomes both heartily enough, there's no exchanging of names, and the topic ranges from the weather to fishing to who's due the next round -- and there's even a few drinking games interspersed. This group certainly seems to enjoy their drink, and R'hin seems at home amongst them, absolutely no reference to Monaco, nor his being a rider -- but then it just never seems to come up, and neither does it for Brieli. For tonight, perhaps, she'll have that privacy she so craves.