Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Ownership 2"

Your location's current time: 16:52 on day 26, month 4, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon.

Not too long after the flight, there's a note rolled on the table next to the pile of hidework. Unrolled would show it having this message: 'I'm looking to meet. Same place as before, your choice of when.' The note's not signed, nor does it gives any hints of the sender. Because of that, it's more than likely clear who it's from.

You walk along the path leading to the nearby area. Weyrling Memorial in the Mountains(#420RJs) Surrounded by the jagged peaks of the northern mountain range, the ground is covered by a blanket of white snow, the flakes swirling as the stinging winds howl across the desolate landscape. The snow, however, does not cling to the sheer cliff face that rises out of the ocean of sunlit white, instead framing the rock in a surreal glow.

As the vision adjusts to the blinding snow, the details of the cliff face become defined. As if carved by the tools of the Minecraft, a set of draconic and human bones are embedded in the rock. The image shows a human atop a dragon in profile, the vision eerie. This, however, was not the work of any tool as this is the unofficial memorial of a Weyrling Betweening, a reminder of an accident of Passes passed. There is no plaque or sign to memorialize this grave; the poignancy of the bones themselves is all that is needed. Contents: Kamer Obvious exits: Clearing

With the sun making its set, it's one of the perfect times for men like Kamer to be about lurking. Huddled in his dark cloak and looking a bit disgruntled for no obvious reason, the eldest Kilvane rogue has his back to the memorial pointedly, as he look through sheets of hides. While his motions seem calm enough, there's a low fire burning in this hazel eyes of his as he occasionally looks up to scan the area for intruders.

Silence. This area is deserted enough that even the slightest sound carries quite a distance. While the passing of a dragon out of between is silent, there's the faint change of air pressure that's accompanied by the appearance of the angular figure of a cinnamon bronze. The emergence is deliberately low, Leiventh's wings tipping left and right to adjust to the vagaries of winds in this area. With a sweep of wings, he settles down near the memorial, glowing eyes focused on the man standing in front of the memorial. His rider drops to the ground a moment later, undoing his flying jacket partway as he strides towards Kamer, eyes - eerily like his dragons - fixed intently on Kamer. "Your message is timely," the bronzerider observes, hint of amusement in his tone as he stops a few paces from the other.

With his back to the arriving Weyrleader still, "I see you've received my message in good health," comes Kamer's form of greeting, an observation. He takes a moment to eye over the hides again, his frown increasing slightly before he straightens and puts them away into his cloak. Just as quickly, a bottle is pulled from the other side before he finally turns toward R'hin and holds it out for him. It's good Benden white by the label, accompanied with a twitch of the side of the rogue's mouth in an attempt to smile. "I believe a congrats is in order, Weyrleader," he states neutrally with a nod. "I was rather intrigued by the news when I've heard." A beat. "Bayan was meant to be here, but he tends to let personal emotions override respect and business."

Leiventh settles properly after his rider moves away, wings folded carefully, statuesque. Only the brilliant shine of eyes indicates he doesn't take his attention from the eldest Kilvane. R'hin's lips curve upwards further still, faint chuckle accompanied by a quizzical tilt of head as pale eyes fall on the bottle of white. Deliberately, he pushes hands into his pockets, not yet reaching out to accept the gift. "I appreciate the sentiment," he says, cautiously, the smile of the other not missed, either. "I'd have thought," the amusement is gone from his tone, leaving guarded, even baritone, "You'd be as much disturbed by the news as intrigued, Kamer." A slight shift of head is given, dismissal of the mention of Bayan, "Better he is not," the Weyrleader agrees. "I've not seen him since the flight, but I can imagine his reaction." A low chuckle emanates from the Reachian, briefly cheered by the thought.

Kamer flicks brief eyes to the bronze, still holding out the bottle in a stance of neutrality. If there's any faint amusement, it's in the brow raised when R'hin puts his hands into his pockets. "Why would this disturb me?" he calmly asks with careful indifference. "I don't see the situation like my blood do. It's our last conversation, along with this, that has me intrigued." He tips his head slightly at the words about the easy rogue, "I don't like the bad blood between you and him," he declares in more bussiness-like tone, "but with how he is, I have been willing to turn a cross cheek. As it is," he continues, "I have no conflict with you. I get along with those that...were traders."

"Why wouldn't this disturb you?" R'hin echoes, a trace of wryness in his tone, as fingers deliberately tap at the knot on his shoulder, drawing attention to the increased opulence since the last time they met. "The symbol of highest authority in the Weyrs that you so despise? Oh, no." A brief chuckle, but there's a hint of forced humor behind it, half turning to take in Leiventh's form for a moment. It is the latter statement that returns his attention to Kamer, pale, guarded eyes narrowed. Silently, a beat later, he takes a step forward, accepting the offered bottle, "Jeider's vintage, is it? Two Turns?" he turns the label to confirm.

"Because, from your words and the tone they were spoken, you are a man that doesn't sit lightly on chairs," is Kamer's brisk answer to R'hin as he scans the area. Hazel eyes go to the knot when it's tapped, another small twitch of lips to indicate some form of amusement, "Very few dragonriders I find to garner even a faint amount respect," he says in a low voice. "Stiil, old habits die hard. You will still be watched, and perhaps more so now that you -are- in the position to threaten my business." The words are spoken coldly enough, eyes moving from the knot to R'hin's own now as he catches that narrow-guarded look at his latter words. "Beowins, correct?" he quietly points out, not showing any outward satisfaction of the Weyrleader's reaction. "Never met them, but I've heard of them. Kilvanes don't travel the Telgar and Nabol areas, so that could be why." Once the bottle is taken, his free hands now clasp behind his back to regard the other. "You know wines," he just says with barely a nod, and looking as though he already knew that R'hin did himself.

R'hin studies Kamer as he watches the area, expression tight, neutral as he can make it. He doesn't disagree with the other's assessment, however, and that is telling in and of itself. The coldness is returned with steel: "We had a deal. I gave you my word." It's as if he expects that to be that. "And you gave me yours. High Reaches Weyr is mine." And he's not talking about the knot that graces his shoulder anymore, though anyone but these two men might mistake the words otherwise. The wine is tucked into the crook of his left arm, almost absently protective. "Do not ask, as if you haven't been checking up on me. You'll note I have not done so in turn, out of respect. But you have reached a line you should not cross." If he seems surprised with Kamer's knowledge of him, or his trading line, it doesn't show beneath cool exterior, pale gaze meeting the other's without flinching. "Why did you wish to meet? I doubt it was simply to gift me with wine."

Kamer is silent for a long moment, not flinching or showing any reaction to the steel in R'hin's voice. "The Weyr is yours," he says just as steely, "but beyond it is /mine/." He turns from R'hin then to make a slow pace, hands staying firmly behind him. R'hin's other words get a look, "I have the resources to check on anyone I come in contact with and has shown an interest in my family, so the right was mine to make," he delivers coolly, not the least apologetic. "It is not respect as it is protection. The lines out here aren't as sharp as you think." The question gets, "I've asked for the meet in regards to your plans, Weyrleader. If your word has not changed, then neither will mine."

As the other paces, the High Reaches Weyrleader's eyes focus not on the man, but the weyrling behind him, low exhale almost inaudible. The steel fades as confrontation is averted, R'hin's demeanor more relaxed now. "Very well." A beat, then a smile, "I'd think you'd be the last to use my title, Kamer. It means nothing to one as you," statement, not query, "So do not use it." Fingers touch the bottle, drawing attention to it. "I imagine, I shall not expect congratulations from your brother. I look forward to meeting with him."

Kamer returns to the slow pacing, watching R'hin closely while the other has his eyes on the memorial. Once he detects the relax in his demeanor, the rogue's own alters from steel coldness to something more relaxing -for him, anyway. Again, no outward satisfaction is shown at the acquiesce. "Perhaps the title doesn't mean anything to one as me," he says in the same tone R'hin uses as his pacing comes to an end, "but I had my reasons for starting out with it." Beat. "Now that my point has been made clear, I no longer will, R'hin." Hazel eyes flick down to the bottle then, "His absolute horror at the news was an amusement to me," he admits evenly, "until he had the audacity to call me out. Some issues have come up before this flight of yours that will have him and Aya a bit...unhinged," he says with a small shrug. "I imagine that coupled with you is not fairing well with him. He /won't/ be looking forward to running into you."

Pale gaze finally averts from the memorial, R'hin focusing on Kamer with tip of head, amusement lingering in casual twitch of shoulders. "Then -I- shall look forward to it." Despite the mention of 'issues', the bronzerider deliberately avoids any comment on it. A half turn of his head, though there's no movement from Leiventh: "I'm needed back at the Weyr. My time is less my own, now. There is a man," he adds, easily, "Who cleans out the stables first thing every morning. Should he use a red handkerchief instead of a blue, you should find me." He tips his head in respect at the other man, turning with bottle cradled carefully in his arms to walk to Leiventh's side.

Kamer raises a brow briefly before giving into a nod, "Then it's inevitable," is all he says on it, his own amusement with the situation indicated with another twitch from the corner of his mouth. Just as quickly, it all fades to his usual look of cool indifference as he silently listens about the stables man. A faint nod if given before adding, "And I have my own to attend to," he says as though he would understand how less the time goes when leading something bigger than himself. Eyes going to the bottle, "Dark is my contact," he finally gives the other. "He's from the Hold, but he drops near occasionally for my brother. Always wear a grey cloak, and is missing a finger on his right hand. The diving cliff, if you need him. Bayan would know, if you two manage to get along lone enough." He regards the Weyrleader longer, "I don't let known my people easily," is all he says in a loaded warning before turning to leave.

With a smile, the High Reaches Weyrleader returns, "Nor do I." With that assurance, R'hin packs the bottle carefully away in Leiventh's saddlebags, buttoning up his flight jacket. Without a backwards glance, he climbs atop the bronze, the dragon lifting off the ground with two powerful wingbeats before the pair vanish between.