Difference between revisions of "Logs:Personal Responsibility"

It's a cool winter's evening, snow steadily falling at High Reaches Weyr. Earlier, during dinner, a tall red-headed man brushed past Alida, paused briefly to look at her, and brusquely stated, "You'll be wanting to stop by and see the Lord after dinner." He vanished almost immediately into the crowd. It's well known where the Holders are staying -- that junior queen's weyr off the Weyrleader's Complex. The weyr is warm, the hearth well-stoked, and Devaki is seated at the table, light by glowbaskets, reading a hide. It's otherwise, mercifully, quiet, though the occasional gurgle from a cot that's not too far away from Devaki is audible.

Knowing how to blend decently into a crowd is one of Alida's arts learned at her fellow guards' heels, and so she makes it into the junior queen's weyr without really being noticed, the candidate tucked inside her heavy jacket with the hood drawn up, like everyone else spending time outside. Once deeper within the 'Reaches delegation's quarters, the woman taps off her boots from snow upon the stone, then pads more deeply within, first clearing her throat, then noting in low tones, "Here as requested."

"Drink?" Devaki inquires, at the first sounds of footsteps. He pauses, cocks his head, "Are you allowed to?" But continues the motion to rise despite the thought, moving towards the sideboard. The sound of splashing liquid is audible, as he says over his shoulder, "You'd best take that jacket off. It's warm in here -- mostly for Vinien. Personally I think it'd be better for him if he learnt to adjust to the cold."

"Please..." is murmured to Devaki, Alida stepping further within when invited, and indeed losing that heavy coat and scarf of hers. "Yeah...no drunkenness is all." And no damned fighting, of course. As the blonde's divesting herself of her outerwear, she listens to what her host has to say, nothing much coming to mind to small-talk back with the Holder.

Glasses in hand, Devaki pauses briefly by the cot to check on the occupant, before he steps around to Alida's side, offering her one of the glasses. The liquid is dark, probably some sort of whisky -- and certainly strong, but probably far better quality than she's used to. "Tell me, how are you getting on with the Weyr's rules?" he cocks his head, waiting for her answer, glass held loosely in his grasp -- not drinking yet.

She accepts that whiskey with a glance down to the stuff, a whiff of its potency reaching Alida's nose, making it flare and vaguely wrinkle in the same instant. Looking back up to her host, a quiet bit of a half smile is given, followed by a low "Thanks..." as her free arm deposits her jacket and scarf onto the nearby floor. Grunt. "Restrictive in some ways, lenient in others. Doin' okay." A raised, white-gold brown might just inquire as to why Devaki is interested in such. "Uv course you likely already heard I got Searched." A hint of both wry humor and shady upset twists the woman's lips into a strange, if very temporary expression.

His gaze follows to where the jacket and scarf are dropped onto the floor, and while he doesn't say anything, there's amusement in Devaki's look as his attention returns to her. "Mmhm," to her comment of search, "You do realize what it means... don't you? To... impress? To tie yourself to this Weyr for the rest of your life?" There's a brief grimace, mostly covered by the lift of his glass to lips, sharp exhale following as the smooth liquid is swallowed.

"Probably not well enough..." is noted to Devaki, Alida holding to a cautious neutrality of features and tone as she sips her whiskey. Indeed, it's better than anything she could ever afford before, and the potency of the ethanol makes her inhale and gasp a little. "Good..." is noted in a quick breath, her incisive greens soon enough latching back to the man's own gaze...concentrating. "Do *you* have insights that I don't?" A lift of brows invites him to lay them out on the table.

It takes Devaki a moment more to respond; perhaps because of the alcohol, or perhaps to consider a suitable response to her question. He leans a hand against the wall above the hearth, body angled towards the warmth, not looking at her, now. "It changes people. You're not just... you anymore. The islanders I knew who impressed... they were different people, after." He glances away from the flames finally, to her: "I guess," with a wry twist of lips, now, "It depends how much you value you, and what you do."

Listening with full concentration to what the Lord has to say, Alida once more sips her whiskey - with a bit more caution this time - her greens slowly moving from Devaki's form to the fire beyond them...the guard watching the flames dance their bizarre patterns within. After some long moments for thought, the holder notes in suspiciously bland tones, "Yeah, so I've heard." Grunt, sip. "So, you consider your old buddies no longer buddies anymore, now that they're riders? Impure?"

"That's not what I said." The correction from the exile Lord is sharp, accompanied by a thinning of lips and slanted, heavy look. "I said they changed."

A small bob of her fairest head acedes the correction, Alida remaining level of countenance and temperament. "Yer pardons...but it sounds to my ears like you don't really care much for the change." Sip. "My opinion, of course." Shrug. "You know that opportunities for any information I can gather are gonna' be both opened up and restricted by this new situation, right?" By her candidacy. Yes, she's seeing it through, even though what Devaki spoke of actually does scare her. To not do so would be to lose personal face.

"Indeed." It's acknowledgement, and yet that level, speculative gaze of Devaki's remains fixed on the Holder-come-candidate. "Yet the cost might be great. I value the people who work for me, Alida. Should you impress..." he straightens, takes a step towards her, hands spread, "Would you thank me? Or blame me?"

"I can weigh my own costs..." the young woman notes in controlled fashion, though her green eyes fire for a bare moment. Sip. "Honestly?" is inquired without artful pretext, a world-full of skepticim, cynicism in the guard's tone, behind Alida's level gaze. "I figure informants are as useful as the information they carry. And when the intel's dried up, or the job's over..." A casual lift of her free fingers presages a scissor-snipping motion that cuts marionette cords upon the air. As far as his last inquiries go... "I believe in personal responsibility."

A smile slips through the serious expression in the High Reaches Blood's expression, undoubtedly at her response. Devaki lowers his hands, lifts his glass and tilts it in her direction in a silent toast, and takes a sip. His voice, when he finally speaks, is roughened somewhat by the alcohol. "Very well, Alida," if anything, he sounds pleased. "Either way, rest assured there'll be a job for you -- at High Reaches Hold. Not Pars."

That smile of Devaki's is reason for Alida to offer a thin, serpentine one of her own, the candidate keeping her own counsel. Another sip presages her own slightly roughened alto, "That's mighty companionable of ya', Sir. I'll keep it firmly in mind, since I'm not gonna Impress anyway. The experience is a one-of-a-kind, though, I gotta' admit." And she'd not deprive herself of such, says the guard's slightly dry, humored tone.

"The Weyr is very different. Especially at the moment," Devaki allows, before his lips purse, a couple of strides taking him to the table, where he deposits his glass. "I heard," casually, over his shoulder, "Something about some brawl between the... the former Weyrleader and some other rider, the other night. Some interesting... rumors. Do you know anything about it?"

"You're telling me..." Alida notes with a certain mix of acerbic wryness and good, old-fashioned black humor, another pair of sips soon finishing her own whiskey...a soft sniffle and blink given as it burns her nose and eyes some. "You heard correctly..." is soon added, the young woman depositing her glass somewhere nearby where it won't be smashed or stepped on while she continues in her low, firm voice. "Nothing in detail. K'del went ballistic about his former Weyrwoman's pendant found on H'kon's weyr ledge. Some shouts of 'murderer' from K'del and maybe 'thief' from a few others." As she speaks, those greens never fail to watch the Lord's reactions. "K'del was really torn up, extremely pissed off. H'kon was..." cue a small thinning of lips into a strange little hint of a wolf's smile "...well, H'kon. Like a chunk uv basalt."

The change in posture is immediate: Devaki goes rigidly still. "Iolene?" he exhales, sharply, reaching for the edge of the table. His face is a mask, intent, but not enough to completely hide the simmering fury briefly visible. "Find out everything you can. I want to know what the implications are. And I want to know more about this... H'kon."

Ahh...a button has been pushed, something sore touched, and the observant guard takes Devaki's flash of ire in with the bland expression her type tend to be known for: neutral-attentive. "I believe so." There, it's said. As for the latter comments, Alida makes mental notes, then replies with a murmured alto, "Will do. I've only met up with him twice...but in that short amount of exposure, I'll venture - at this point - that he seems t'be opinionated, very cognizant of rank..." (what? she can use some bigger words?) "...rather dour, kinda' standoffish." Beat. "Brownrider uv' Arekoth; one uv the clutchdaddies this time around."

Devaki is well aware of the picture he paints, but seems not to care, even under the observant gaze of the guard: his tightness of expression doesn't change, though something thoughtful begins to creep in as he turns and strides to the sideboard, collecting the decanter there. "I thought I recognized it. He's one of those brownriders they call Weyrleader that's got everyone all rattled?" He's listening closely, even as he steps back, gesturing towards her glass, making his intent clear.

She's not there at this moment, as far as Alida's expression and silence go; just a guard statue, dum-dee-dum. That is, until Devaki questions her again and offers her another hit of that potent whiskey, which the young woman does not turn down. Stepping away to fetch up her own lowball glass again, the palest-blonde notes in her own thoughtful tone, "Yeah, that'd be him...although I think I heard off the grapevine that brownrider Taikrin and goldie Brieli got themselves declared as sorta' Acting Weyrleader n' Senior Weyrwoman pair." A shrug shows how interested Alida is in Weyr politics. "There's the inevitable backlash from those who support Azaylia 'n H'kon... 'r shells, a bronze only Weyrleader." Snort.

Refilling her glass -- generously -- before he reaches for his own, Devaki says, "Given the history, I can't see how anyone would want to claim this Weyr as their own. Still, from what Issedi and Hana have both said of Azaylia, I can't say that I'm overly surprised. But," he sets the decanter down on the table, with a little more force than perhaps necessary: "Anyone is better than that K'del."

Lifting one white-gold brow in curiosity, Alida simply listens as Devaki goes on about they Weyr, the blonde making her own deductions, perusing her own mental rolodex. With the refill comes a quiet, "Thank you..." and another small sip, a sigh of enjoyment let out at the burn down her throat. "Azaylia has more backbone than people might assume, I think." Opinion. "It just isn't often seen 'r used. Maybe gotta' be worth it to her." Like something dealing with her dragon. Shrug. A quirk of her pale head is given at word of K'del, and the candidate frames her next words carefully. "If you'd feel like giving me a little more ta' go on about him, Sir, I might be able to get a little head's up on information gatherin'."

The noise seems to have stirred the cot's occupant, with fussing little noises that a parent might recognize as a precursor of a good cry. Devaki downs a good half of the contents of his glass before quick strides take him to the cot's edge, as he gathers Vinien up. With a hand holding his son against him, the islander's gaze soon settles on Alida once more. "Does she?" the Blood muses over that offering, a rocking motion intended to soothe the boy almost absent habit, before his brows draw downward. "Let's just say... K'del values coin above a truth that would've spared the islanders a good deal of angst."

Those fussings and Devaki's attendence of his son don't seem to move Alida much, the woman simply remaining where she is, and occasionally sipping her whiskey and looking all around. "In my estimation, given my limited time of exposure to weyrfolk..." the blonde notes quietly, as if trying to cut off that upcoming loud cry from the babe. Word of K'del having a potential love of money over ethics doesn't move the guard much, either, 'lida having learned some Turns ago just how bribeable people can be...from the 'down' side of the equation. A soft grunt of acknowledgement and a nod presage her muted, "Anything else you're wantin' ta' know in specific?"

"That will do... for now," Devaki responds, with the faintest of smiles. Vinien's fussing noises appear to have faded with the attention, and he glances towards the entrance. "The girls will be back from their evening constitutional soon. You'd best go... unless you want your hair done?" the amused look he gives Alida suggests he can well guess what her response might be to that.

"Always that caveat..." the woman murmurs around a sip of whiskey, her eyes crossing for just a moment before she belts back the rest of it...and wheezes with the smooth bite of the alcohol. Word of 'girls' makes the guard's brow draw inward for a moment, but as soon as Devaki mentions having her hair done... "Was it *you* that sicced her on me?" Glower. Hana. No matter, the woman's abandoning her glass nearby, then double-timing it over to her coat and scarf, and donning them with alacrity. "Don't like people I don't know touchin' me." A quick sketch of a half-assed salute - after all, he isn't her Lord...not yet, anyway - and soon enough the non-descript form is hurrying out of the ground level weyr and then slowing down only after she's well away from it. Maybe it's the cold.

There's nothing but pure innocence in Devaki's look of surprise -- except for, perhaps -- the faintest gleam of amusement as he watches her donning her extra clothing. "One's employees should learn many skills. No matter how useless they may seem -- after all, Hana's got her in the company of Issedi and Azaylia." A smile for the salute -- half assed or not, and a, "Good night, Alida," follows her hasty departure from the weyr.