Difference between revisions of "Logs:Taikrin Does Damage Control"

Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia.

Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy.

Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries.

Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced.

Since this afternoon, no doubt Szadath has noticed Hraedhyth burning red hot one moment, and ice cold the next. Pressing close only to turn around in the next few minutes to snap at him, the queen is obviously upset. This time, she hasn't gone and forced it onto the rest of the dragons of the Weyr. She allows them to remain calm. Oblivious. Inside the weyr, Azaylia is curled up on a couch that has gained a noticeable Bones-sized dent in the cushions. There's no sign of the man now. Just the weyrwomen with her head buried in crossed arms atop the arm-rest, looking so much like a dark blue wilted flower. Her hair has come loose, hiding her face, which is for the best judging from the various handkerchiefs and cloth bits which surround her.

Everything is fine with Taikrin. Totally fine. That's the impression she's been aiming to give everyone in her totally-not-frantic running around the Weyr the last few days. She's been doing her damndest to put in a total 'in charge and in control and everything is fine' spin on the unrest that's surged since Hraedhyth's initial upset. Now, finally, free of her latest bout of reassuring Mielline, she charges authoritatively up towards Azaylia's weyr from deep within the council chamber. Szadath, who has born the gold's unrest stoicly until now, looks with interest towards the weyr. "Azaylia?" There's only a moment's hesitation at the entryway before Taikrin pushes tentatively inside. "You up?"

The reply isn't instant, though Azaylia's back straightens to have her looking over her shoulder at the entrance. Palming at her swollen, wet face, she answers with a throat sore from crying, "Go away!" Just as Hraedhyth eases back into Szadath, "N-no! Come here. In here. Please." With one last solid sniffle-snort, she aims to compose herself for the brownrider's visit. Fingers seek out and find the ties which secure her hair, letting it all fall rather than looking haphhazard. "Yes?" She finally answers with a swallow, sitting up and facing Taikrin.

"Shit--" Taikrin can't quite move fast enough to get to Azaylia's side, to crouch before her and offer a hug or hands to grasp or something. Her own upset is clear in the grim white line of her lips. "Are you okay? What happened? What did he do? Szad didn't tell me-- you should have called me! What happened?"

Azaylia isn't terribly receptive to Taikrin's attempts to comfort, and it shows. Much like the gold out on the ledge, she wavers between accepting and lashing out. "Brieli." Not K'del. "She said the most horrib-ble..." With a swallow, she tenses, "It doesn't matter." Desperate to convince herself of this, she closes her eyes. Her arms reach up to hug herself, and when her eyes open they focus on the brownrider with a glint of something intense, "Do you want to be her Acting Weyrleader?" An accusation, more than a question.

Since when has Taikrin let a little thing like someone not particularly wanting her attentions stop her? Since Azaylia doesn't seem receptive to much else, Taikrin just sits back on her heels and rests a hand on either side of her on the couch. "What did Brieli say?" There's a note of wary caution in her voice now, to go with pale-faced concern. "What do you mean, her Acting Weyrleader?"

Taikrin's answer only has brown eyes narrowing. Not the first time today, but certainly the first the brownrider's seen on Azaylia's face. "If we're brought to Council. You and Brieli as Acting..." The anger's still fresh. The hurt even more so. She shakes her head, face screwing up as she attempts to not let what else was said cloud her. "Szadath caught Hraedhyth." She's trying not to raise her voice, as rough and small as it sounds by now, "Not Iesaryth. You're my Weyrleader." Hraedhyth's jaws snap all too close to her brown mate's cheek, "Unless you want to be Brieli's. Szadath can sit on her ledge, instead." This? This is a whole new creature sitting on the couch in front of the older woman.

There's an unusual reluctance to Szadath's sending, and his mind is thin (so thin!) as if hiding. Subdued, as close to a whisper as the brown can muster, he asks, « Mine needs to know what yours did to Hraedhyth's. » A flash of an image of a crying girl who looks a like distorted Azaylia. (Szadath to Iesaryth)

"Okay," Taikrin says, in a cautious and totally non-commital sort of way. "Is that what Brieli said? About if the Council pushes us?" Her face, usually so expressive, has gone sort of shut-down and flat except for the faint smile she's trying out. It's possibly meant to be reassuring. "Is there any question Hraedhyth's got Szad? Most those new scars are hers. I can barely even pull him away from her long enough to fly me up to my weyr. Believe me when I tell you he ain't leaving any time soon for Iesaryth's ledge. I ain't leaving you either-- we're wingmates, yeah? Ain't I always looked out from you, from the time Hraedhyth was smaller'n Szad's head? Ain't we wingmates? Tell me what's going on and we'll work through it together, yeah?"

There's a chill wind over the ocean tonight, not her normal sunny sparkle on the waves; Iesaryth's underwater weight does not press too hard on Szadath, given the thin, insubstantial presence. But still; « Hraedhyth's asked questions. She answered. » That is not all, but there's a certain sense of protectiveness about her for her rider, defensiveness. « She says what people need to hear, not what they want to. » That sounds like a direct quote, or close enough. (Iesaryth to Szadath)

To Iesaryth, Szadath disappears altogether for a moment-- there's something about flashing teeth near his face. When he reappears, it's even softer than before. Stage-whisper. Sussurating wind. « We need to hear what she knows. »

Azaylia reaches up to crush an eye with her palm, giving a soft nod. It's too childish, given how she's been since Taikrin stepped into her weyr. But it's more like her usual self. "I-I guess not. No." With a another sniff, her arms relax until her hands are in her lap, worrying at the fabric there. "I'm sorry. That was selfish." An admittance that has her lower lip trembling, "All I care about is what I want. I'm sorry. I'm just... Brieli and I got into a fight. She said..." Lips purse, too much to recall without losing what composure she's managed to gain since the argument. "A lot of things. She lied to me. And I... I lost my temper and just proved her right and I can't... I'm a terrible weyrwoman." Shoulders slump, muscles slack, brown puddles are aimed Taikrin's way, "We're not even really wing-mates anymore. I had to leave Glacier, after the flights. A Senior can't be in-- But I'm not Senior. I'm not anything."

That is something Iesaryth can't do, not in full, only; « Cadejoth's told her things. » Things that the queen is honor-bound not to reveal, that hers was, and still is. For a moment, there is only the sound of the waves crashing, before, « They argued. They have before. » There's a fuzzy flash of something that feels long long ago, in Hraedhyth's weyr, when the other gold's rider only wore gray. « It will pass. » She's not totally certain of that, but makes an effort. (Iesaryth to Szadath)

"Well technically I'd be your Wingleader now, yeah?" Taikrin offers with a ghost of a teasing smile. "Do what I say or it's ten laps around the Weyr bowl?" But now she seems on firmer ground, at least-- if Azaylia is coming her way, Taikrin is there to catch. She's always there to catch. "You're Azaylia, weyrwoman to Hraedhyth, and you're doing your best in a sharding awkward situation. I'm sorry you and Brieli got into a fight. You're both under lots of stress, yeah? You been friends since the queens were shelled, though. I reckon you'll make it up eventually. But I'm here to take care of you, now. I'm sorry I ain't been more-- I figured maybe you needed some space to figure stuff out. Want to tell me about it?"

There's a weak curl to her lips for the idle threat of laps around the bowl. Azaylia doesn't look ready to leave her misery nest, but as she settles so does Hraedhyth. The queen spends her time grooming Szadath as if she weren't just picking at him for ages - paying special attention to any nicks she might have left on him. "I don't know if we can ever be friends again." Ah, the sound of youthful despair. "No, it's okay. You have, uhm, Riorde and your Wingleader duties. Really, it's okay." Despite her possessive streak, she hasn't forgotten the brownrider's girlfriend. "I said that you and I could stand up to the council. She said I couldn't handle it. Them. That the Weyr needed someone strong. That I... was childish. Th-the most... cruel things she's ever said to me." Things that threaten to have her bursting into tears all over again.

"That was pretty cruel," Taikrin allows. "Sometimes it's like the ones we're closest to know all the worst spots to hit us, yeah?" She's in for the comforting just as Szadath is, albeit in his case it's more submitting to Hraedhyth's ministrations. "I should be here for you more. I forget, sometimes, that you ain't done any of this before and that there's nobody who has to help you. When Teris went through it, at least she had Tiriana around to tell her what was what. I'll do better by you, I promise. Now." The brownrider leans forward a little, still smiling, and tries keep her tone light. "Have you thought at all about what you want to do if the council comes knocking? I'm doing my best to keep the Wingleaders in line, but--" There's a whole world in what Taikrin leaves unsaid.

"I thought she was my friend." Azaylia whimpers, all to susceptible to being comforted now. Vulnerable. "Teris." The name has the goldrider biting her lip, "There's a rider from here, trying to get... maybe another gold transferred to High Reaches. I, We, can't let that happen." The 'we' likely includes Brieli, despite their earlier disagreement. "You don't have to. You're doing so much just by being a good rider." As apposed to the brownrider's usual antics. Still, it earns the older woman a hug, wrapping her arms around Taikrin's neck and leaning in. "I have." She answers after releasing her once-wingmate, "I wouldn't let a gold transfer in. There hasn't been anything to happen that would show the council that you were a bad choice for Acting. Though..." Now her face is troubled, "H'kon did catch Brieli. It wouldn't be right to just cut him out." With a shake of her head, "I'd want to make sure they knew that we had things under control, until the next flight." Obvious hope that it isn't another double fiasco.

"Szadath wouldn't leave Hraedhyth for Iskiveth. Once, turns ago, maybe. But she's left and they've both grown and moved on. And I wouldn't support Teris over you. You know that, right? Even if they offered to send her in to us? Even if she asked for us to take her?" There's a parable here about a gold in the hand. "There's enough work to be done that there's no need to cut H'kon out. We could use the help." Taikrin is using her most reasonable voice-- the one she's been practicing over and over with for sevendays now. She's reasonable when she returns the hug, and reasonable when she's smiling, and reasonable when Szadath tentatively starts nosing back at Hraedhyth. "But I'm having trouble with the Wingleaders. You can't have two people over them-- it's like when you got a kid, and the dad says no so they go and ask the mom instead and the mom will say yes on account of how she secretly don't like the dad so much?" Somewhere towards the end Taikrin pulls into another broad, teasing grin. "We got a couple of turns to get through, yet. No need to cut H'kon out-- make him my second instead. I could use the help. And I reckon two browns ought to be able to stand up to any troublesome old bronze, yeah?"

Azaylia doesn't hide the relief that floods her at the brownrider's reassurance. "I wasn't too worried about the dragons." She admits, but it's no secret that Taikrin is one to speak of Teris fondly. Hraedhyth is a much more receptive mate now, not that she or her rider are completely calmed. At least there's not going to be any more ire aimed at Szadath, as the gold noses back and encourages his affection. Problems with the Wingleaders has the goldrider looking troubled, "I tried. I mean, not really. It was another argument." She's had so many of those lately. "I don't think he'll be your 'second. And it doesn't feel right to just take it all away because what he thinks is best isn't what we think." Trying not to be selfish. "I could try to talk to him again? Calmly. Officially?" She looks back to Taikrin, searching for the older rider's opinion. Perhaps her approval.

"Offer it to him officially. As a weyrwoman to a rider. He can be my second, and I'll work with him. He can even be in charge of-- something. I'd have to think about it. But the wings can't be divided-- it's bad for them." Taikrin's voice is warm with approval, as is her crooked smile. "Everyone's just trying to do what's best for the Weyr. We don't all agree, but sometimes it's good to hear an opinion that ain't yours. We might not agree with H'kon, but that don't always mean he's wrong." She can be magnanimous in her victory. "Tell him it's his chance to make a real difference, maybe. If you talk business like a Glacier rider, he'll listen. I know you can do it-- I've seen it plenty enough. A weyrwoman doesn't argue with wingriders, right? She just tells 'em what's what."

Tiny, tiny, tiny. There's only the barest ghost, the thinnest hint of Szadath, that whispers, « We fix it. » (Szadath to Iesaryth)

To Szadath, Iesaryth might be a bit... dubious, but she accepts this easily enough; no need to say more. She seems pleased by the idea, though. The skepticism could be all her rider's.

Azaylia can't help but manage a smile, a real one, with Taikrin's warm words helping her perk up. "I'll try. If he doesn't accept, I don't know what we'll do. I want to be fair to him and you, Taikrin." Even if H'kon is an ass. "It's the Weyrleader's job to tell the wingriders what to do." She says with newfound respect for the position. Wonder where she picked that up from? "It's a partnership. Just like..." All too suddeny, she deflates, "Like Brieli and I were supposed to be." As she struggles with her sadness, "Thank you, Taikrin. For caring. It really means a lot right now."

"Yeah. It's a partnership. Exactly like that. But you can only lead a dragon to the wherry's nest-- you can't make him hunt, right? Got to just do the best you can and not worry about the rest. I know you can do it." To the deflated Azaylia, she offers more quietly, "I know she said some stuff that really hurt you. But she's been your friend for turns, and she's just as lost as the rest of us trying to do her best. I ain't saying you should forgive and forget or anything like that, just-- keep it in mind. Friends first, yeah?" She straightens up, though doesn't quite rise, and adds, "Glacier's going to be drilling a bit more, now, if Hraedhyth decides she wants to fly with them a bit while she's still able. Or just watch. Or if you both want to join, for a bit of a break. You'll always be one of us, even if you ain't really flying with us."

"I'll try." It's a promise, as much as the weyrwoman is able to give in these uncertain times. "The Weyr is important. It doesn't matter if my... feelings get hurt." Azaylia doesn't sound as if she believes that entirely, but there's an honest attempt. Her eyes remain on the brownrider, clearly touched if somewhat amused by the offer. "She's getting a little too heavy for all that." Hraedhyth resembles that remark. "I'm sure she'll still enjoy watching. Especially Szadath." Because all is well once more in the land of gold and brown. She does rise to her feet, smoothing out her wrinkled skirt with a soft sigh, "I'll be okay. Bones should be back soon. He's off getting me iced cream." During High Reaches winter it's not such a terrible errand, but a time consuming one.

"Okay, if you're sure." Taikrin rises to her feet as well, in a move that starts jaunty and ends in a sort of awkward attempt at dignity as she doesn't entirely know what to with her hands except, at the end, to shove them into the pockets of her coat. "I am just a dragon away, you know. If there's anything you need, or you ain't sure of, or if you're lonely or whatever, I want you to call me okay? You're my most important business. Everything else can wait, I reckon." Maybe it's a little sappy. Taikrin knows it's sappy-- she hangs a lampshade on it with her overt wink. "She should watch while she can, regardless, before she's stuck indoors. Reckon it'll be some boring sevens for her."

Azaylia is happy to escort Taikrin out of her weyr, if for the chance to be polite rather than the brownrider actually leaving. "O-okay." She's not quite up to smiling, but there are attempts at being called important business. It's a salve to soothe the wounds from earlier, if only temporarily. "I keep trying to tell her that. I'm sure if Szadath is there, after she clutches, it'll be bearable..." If she's able, the brownrider will get another hug, thankfully too drained for it to be crushing, "Have a good night, Taikrin. Clear skies."

Taikrin is always into hugs. She returns it with enthusiasm, and maybe a little bit of a tight squeeze at the end. "You too, Azaylia. Clear skies."