Difference between revisions of "Logs:Phantoms Unearthed"

Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

A heavy, brocade curtain separates the ledge from the weyr within, which opens up into a long, wide wallow and a walkway beside it. There's easily enough room for a bronze in here; the ceiling is high enough that sound tends to echo. Down the wall beside the walkway, small circles appear to float within the dim light like miniature moons; a high panel of them that's perhaps four or five times as long as a man is tall. They end abruptly as the wall curves around and opens out into the rest of the weyr.

It's a good sized weyr, and laid out nicely with a fine collection of solid, expensive furniture. A niche off to one side offers built-in shelving and a desk set out beneath it, while much of the rest of the space has been taken up by a couch and several chairs, laid out in front of the hearth. It's reflective, that hearth, made up of squares tiled on point, many of which look very new indeed. To one side of that is a dark opening that might be another niche, or perhaps a passageway.

A tunnel leads off from that dark opening - narrow, if still tall. It turns a corner and then opens out into an expansive room set against the other side of the hearth. Most of /this/ space is taken up by a bed that has clearly been made to fit the space exactly, although there's still room to step around to another niche - this one with a plugged basin above and a drain below. There are more of those moons here, too: moons that glow with light from the room beyond.

While Hraedhyth may be bound to the sands, her rider is less so. It isn't uncommon to catch Azaylia riding Szadath when available, not that they're terribly visible on such a stormy day. Persistence and guilt find her on H'kon's ledge. It's what drives her towards the shelter of his weyr, has her falling in a stumble with her hand landing on something hard. Not sharp, but smooth. Huddling in the entrance to an empty weyr, the weyrwoman is able to inspect the brittle object in her hand, so cold that it almost burned. Recognition strikes her, club against drum skin that might startle Cadejoth with its sudden focus. Black plumes don't mean to hide, but shield the bronze from tumultuous thoughts, swirling and gathering with each passing moment. There's a flash of heat, as much of a warning as she can give him, « Mine has found something. Are you home? » A storm is coming.

It does startle Cadejoth, Cadejoth who has been enjoying the stormy skies to the utmost of his ability, chains buffetted and thrown around by the force of their turbulence. « Hraedhyth? » It's a staccato jangle, a reply that holds aburpt concern... and fear. Hraedhyth's storm cannot mean anything good, however well she shields her thoughts, and it draws him back towards his ledge, though he has further to go. « He's home. » K'del is home, but evidently Cadejoth has passed on something, because he waits out on the ledge for the goldrider and her ride, his eyes wide, and shadowed by dark, bruise-like marks. It's the day before the anniversary, and he looks tired. And worried.

Those drums may roll like thunder, but it is not her storm that Hraedhyth warns him of. « They come. » Once Szadath lands on the ledge Azaylia is turning shoo him, sending the brown off to find some shelter. She does the same once he's gone, nearly crashing into K'del on the way. Rather than try to untangle herself from the bronzerider, a hand grips at him, making an effort to pull him further inside. Snow clings to her clothing, hair having escaped buns with the help of those savage winds outside. "K'del. You look..." If you have nothing nice to say. Her words die as she stands there shivering, closed hand resting against her chest as the other only just thinks to let him go. "This is a bad time." Meant to be a question, but it doesn't quite make it.

Cadejoth acknowledges Hraedhyth's words, arriving on the ledge after Szadath has departed (and good thing, too, most likely). His rapidly whirling gaze comes to rest on his rider, but K'del, at this moment, only has eyes for the goldrider who grips him so. He's easily pushed inside, at least, which is good: he's not dressed for the outdoors. "No," he says, just inside, managing to move now on his own momentum. "It's fine. I'm fine." He's clearly not, not really, but it's equally clear that he's determined to work through it. "Hraedhyth said you... found something?" It half sounds as though he's not entirely sure he wants to know, but he's encouraging her in, now, moving on semi-autopilot towards the hearth. Behind them, Cadejoth crawls into his couch, watching and alert.

If Azaylia was feeling urgent, it has since left her at the state the bronzerider is in. She doesn't answer K'del right away, turning concerned eyes onto Cadejoth as he enters, likely checking the color of his unique hide. "I... did." She responds in kind, sounding as if she isn't sure she wants to show him. Shedding the wet, frigid weight of her cloak, she hangs it out of the way with one hand, still favoring her left. "You're not fine." The goldrider argues, following him to the hearth, "I don't want to make things worse. It can..." It can't wait, no. The lie doesn't make it past her lips.

Cadejoth, at least, is no more grayed out than he ever is, though the glance he aims Azaylia as she looks at him is serious. It's to Hraedhyth that he explains, quietly, « He remembers too much. » It's a bad time. But it's also the only time. K'del shakes his head, twisting his fingers, and then pressing them flat against his thighs as he turns to look at Azaylia. "No, it can't wait, whatever it is. It's fine. Just got to-- work through this stuff. What is it? Do you want-- klah? Or something?"

Hraedhyth's focus is split, perhaps unevenly but she is there, in his mind as well as her rider's. « We will help. » It is a promise not meant for right now, but for after, inky black plumes still ominous in the way they hover. "No thank you." For the klah, though there might be a call for something stronger soon. She extends her left hand, fingers visibly stiff from being closed for so tightly for so long, "I found this. And... I remembered." Her other hand moves to catch the silver chain that slithers towards freedom, cupping both palms around the pendant. "And... I thought you should have it." Within the double-helix of glass rocky sand contrasts golden grains, a duality that is not forgotten, especially not today and the next. Iolene's necklace.

In an instant, those inky plumes are understood. Cadejoth has not the memories of his rider, but he can share his thoughts-- and those thoughts, in this moment, must be bleak indeed. The date is bad enough, but this, this, is unquestionably breaking his heart. All the air escapes his lungs in an instant, expression turning from tired and completely and utterly lost. He doesn't move, makes no attempt to reach out and take the pendant. Instead, he's silent for a very long time until, finally, in a voice that is on the edge of breaking: "Where?"

He is allowed those long moments of silence, even Azaylia's soft whisper of "K'del." isn't meant to break him from his stupor. Hraedhyth is prepared, bracing herself to catch those bleak, broken thoughts and to brave them with Cadejoth. "I..." It's almost as if she can't remember. Tearing her eyes away from his expression, the weyrwoman takes a moment to answer, "I went to see H'kon but he wasn't home. I tripped." There is an indent, a flush to her palm from such an impact. "I found it on his ledge." Her answer is simple, it's the implications of such that don't seem to be. Only now does her brow crease ever so faintly.

There are so many thoughts: so many tangled layers of regret and failure and hurt and betrayal and-- Cadejoth can't help himself but share them, so lost and confused under the weight of it all. K'del doesn't seem to know what he feels anymore, except that it's enough that he staggers backwards into the couch, as if his legs can no longer support his weight. "H'kon," he repeats, dully, less as though he's struggling to believe it, and more as if the name presently has no meaning. Except, then, a moment later: "H'kon." That one is more dangerous.

Hraedhyth makes no attempts to stifle those emotions, letting them run their coarse to a beat not unlike her steady drums. She doesn't add her own weight to Cadejoth's confusion but hovers, protective. « He hurts. » She understands, and yet she doesn't. « He needs you to be strong. » Experience flickers within her flames, a guiding light for the older bronze to draw strength from as needed. Azaylia falls after K'del, hands looking to find his, her fingers tangled in the forgotten chain, "K'del?" It's that ominous echo that has her her searching his eyes, her own expression shifting between worried and stern. "K'del. It doesn't mean anything." She hopes.

« I'm trying, » says Cadejoth, whose regret is a tangible presence in his thoughts: he wants so much for his rider to be happy again, for these torrents of emotions to cease. But he takes comfort from the young queen, and lets his chains be warmed by those flames. K'del lets his hands be taken, though contact with the pendant and chain seems to burn him-- as though it bransd his skin, and not just with conducted cold. "Why would he have it," he says, voice low, his gaze turning towards the other rider. "If it didn't mean anything? Why would he have it, Azaylia." Something breaks in his voice, as though he's desperate for her to come up with a reason - something to prove that he hasn't been supporting the man who murdered the woman he loved.

For the warrior queen, Cadejoth's efforts are good enough, though there is nothing to be done about the pain, the anger, the grief. As her fire heats linked metal those drums never cease, her influence offered in a huddle against the turmoil of his rider. Azaylia hurries to untangle herself from the phantom's necklace, placing it on the the couch to be forgotten for now. "He didn't have it." She crowds him, fingers that are no longer tainted by silver and glass looking to squeeze his. She's kneeling more than actually sitting on any cushions, peering up into the face of despair. "It was on his ledge. In the snow. It..." The break in his voice silences any attempts at explaining it away. She swallows, finally admitting defeat with a whispered "I don't know."

And in that, too, Cadejoth takes comfort. One day, the rattle of his bones promises, all will be better again. All of this-- right? It will have to be. One day. K'del's breath rattles in his lungs, and yes, he's got tears in his eyes again. "Don't know either. But." It's obvious he doesn't want to think the worst of H'kon, but it's equally obvious that it all hurts too much, and that he's no longer sure what to think, though at least those squeezing hands are giving what seems to be genuine comfort. "It was a turn ago. Tomorrow. I just keep thinking about what we were doing, a turn ago. How everything was. And now-- that. Why would he have it?" He's already asked that question; now, he can't seem to stop. A shuddering breath later and he adds, "It's fine. It's-- thank you for giving it to me. I gave it to her, you know. Her eighteenth turnday. Think I gave her the wrong impression with it, but it worked out. In the end." Sort of.

« One day. » The drums promise, their echos fading toward somewhere in the future be it near or far. Azaylia tries not to mirror his pain, her own eyes watering at the sight of those tears. "I know it hurts." It's all she can offer, as well as what support he'll accept. She rises from her half-crouch to sit on the couch, hand unconsciously moving the coiled chain of silver out of the way. The goldrider wraps her arms around him in a too-tight hug, as if she'll be able to squeeze all of his pain away. It's something hard and real, something for him to hold on to if need be. "It's okay. It's okay if it's not fine. If you're not." She murmurs, mindful not to speak over him. "Things tend to." Work out in the end. Sort of.

"Don't even know anymore. If she loved me. If she betrayed me. If--" K'del breaks off, burying his face into Azaylia's so-conveniently provided shoulder, letting her hug him as tight as she can, and even seeming to embrace that tightness: it hurts, and it helps. "I'm not fine," he says, finally. "But it'll get easier. I'll get better, Azaylia. Be the person I need to be, again." But right now, what he really seems to need is to cry, pendant - and all it may well imply - forgotten in the force of his so-present grief. The implications can wait until later.

The weyrwoman shifts as needed, turning to offer the very shoulder he's ducking to hide his face against. Another squeeze, as well as a good few thumps from a sturdy hand, "I'd like to think she did." Even if only for K'del's sake, her own reservations about the deceased pushed aside for now. "What matters is that you did love her. That's what hurts." The young woman doesn't mean to rock and yet there's some sway as she let's him cry, palm rubbing along his back, matching Hraedhyth's slowed drums. As for his getting better, "I know."

"Yeah," says K'del, in a voice that is muffled by his tears as much as by Azaylia's so helpfully proffered shoulder. "I did love her. Not even sure I realised how much, until she was gone." It's a little while later before he pulls back, having left a wet patch on her shoulder, his eyes red and raw and still watery. He wipes at them with the back of his hand, not yet controlled sniffles still escaping at regular intervals. "'m sorry, Zay. Keep crying on you. It's kind of embarrassing. Just-- thank you. Honestly. Truly."

The wet patch is ignored despite salty discomfort, Azaylia pulling back to look up into his face. "I'm so sorry, K'del." With teeth to hold her sleeve as arm retreats further into her dress, it leaves a few inches of fabric that she uses to wipe at his face. Tears, and now snot. That's what the laundry is for. "It's really alright. You have no reason to be embarrassed in front of me." Though she doesn't seem close to crumbling right now, thankfully. "Anytime. Always." She eases further away with a slow sigh, concern still worn on her damp sleeve, "Do you want some tea? Something stronger?"

K'del's expression is still woeful, but he tries to smile when Azaylia wipes at his face. "I feel like one of my kids," he says, aiming for levity, though it mostly misses the mark: it's not really very funny, especially when his delivery is that far off. "You're-- thank you. Thank you." He swallows, thickly, fighting back more of those stupid tears he's presently over producing, then shakes his head. "No. I think-- I'll be okay. I think... I just want to... I'll be okay. I think I just want to think for a while." He's quietly apologetic, and not quite pushing her out the door, although, "Cadejoth can give you a lift down?"

Azaylia manages a weak smile, "They're cuter." Her tone isn't as flat, succeeding where he failed if only because her grief is second-hand. Her arm reappears as she gets to straightening out her clothing, giving a gentle nod as she's encouraged to accept a ride down. "Hraedhyth will be listening for him if you need anything." There's a glint out of the corner of her eye as she stands, goldrider reaching over in order to rescue the necklace from being swallowed up by cushions. While placing it on a nearby flat surface, she peeks at the bronzerider, "Please... be careful?" With himself, with assumptions and the consequences of. The weyrwoman retrieves her cloak, walking towards Cadejoth with an outstretched hand so she can give him a good scratch with soft murmurs of 'good boy'. She won't linger, climbing up onto the bronze as both fly out into the blizzard and towards Azaylia's weyr.

K'del can acknowledge that without hesitation: they're much cuter. His, "I promise," is heartfelt, and he even manages to rise, and to follow her most of the way to the ledge, though he stays safely in the warm, watching the bronze (who whuffs warm air at Azaylia) disappear into the storm. It's after that, quietly, that he turns back, walking stiffly to the couch, to pick up that piece of silver and glass. He wraps his fingers about it, and he closes his eyes.

He doesn't look pleased.