Difference between revisions of "Logs:A Final Demand"

Somewhere Remote, Southern Continent

It's a mid-spring afternoon when, as pre-arranged, Leiventh reaches out to the younger pair of queens of High Reaches. His tone is, as ever, distant and chill with the cool winds of High Reaches' itself, and the discussion one of brevity for his part. « We wait here for your arrival. » Almost immediately he withdraws, but not before the clear image of water, sky, sand and jungle resolves itself into an intricate enough image to between to. On arrival, the air is humid, and stark in contrast to the bitter nothingness of between. Below, a stretch of coastline is visible, endless as far as the eye can see -- that, combined with the lush jungle, makes it obvious that it's somewhere on the Southern continent, though no settlements are visible from here. Below, Leiventh has made himself clearly, immediately visible, the angular arch of the bronze's statuesque posture stark against the golden sand below. His rider, after some inspection, may well be visible lounging in the shade of one of the nearby trees, his white shirt being used as a makeshift pillow while he waits.

One can never be sure of Iesaryth's mood; though the waters are generally placid, the tides warm and bright, the youngest of High Reaches' golds doesn't want to move much now and then... and though there's something of that in her thoughts, the undertow pulling her elsewhere, she can agree. If only for that image from Leiventh, humid and green and certainly more interesting than anything she's doing, seeing. « We come. » Simple enough, though it might be a bit odd that the queen appears alone first - not with Hraedhyth. Maybe they could get away faster... though there's no rush to her lazy circling down to the beach. Why not enjoy the bright sun and warm air while she can? Even if it has her rider irritable as she dismounts once finally landing. Iesaryth might not wait, but Brieli will for Azaylia, tossing gear carelessly on the sand.

Hraedhyth's flame flares in a wordless response to Leiventh, combatting if not banishing his cold almost as quickly as he withdraws. He has her attention. Will he later regret it? The brawny gold breaks from between with a roar that might be seen as a greeting, but is most certainly a challenge. Creatures that can fly, do, scattering as the queen drops down for a heavy thud of a landing. She crouches only long enough for Azaylia to dismount, weyrwoman already unfastening her riding leathers due to the humidity. Hraedhyth stands in the sand after, quickly whirling gaze set on Leiventh and His as she begins to pace in a half circle. She won't invade their space, but the restless queen is determined to stay vigilant. Azaylia finds Brieli's side with a quick little smile for waiting, approaching R'hin when they're both ready.

Leiventh's greeting of the pair of queens is polite -- a low rumbling perhaps more felt than heard -- though this doesn't seem a reflection of his, or his rider's mood, so much as his normal demeanor. If he seems concerned by the varying moods of the two queens, it doesn't show -- eyelids dropping after he assures himself of their safe landing. Meanwhile, his rider is sitting up, running a hand through his hair in lieu of a comb, and pushes himself to his feet, scooping up his shirt as he does so. While he makes a show of putting it back on, he doesn't bother to button it up, pale green gaze fixed on the pair of weyrwoman, flicking from one to the other. "Monaco's duties," R'hin calls out, and with a twist of lips -- something more genuine, adds, "And my regards to your queens. Come in the shade, if you would -- I didn't expect it to be quite this warm." It almost sounds as if he's genuinely apologetic about that, gesturing in invitation.

When the other queen lands with a thump, Iesaryth might find herself a spot a little less likely to result in spraying sand or other disturbances from Hraedhyth landing, pacing, taking off again. The sun-touched gold would rather find a warm spot on the beach and watch the ocean than patrol. But then, there's nothing that ought to be patrolled, in her mind - but then, the bronze is her sire - that seems to stick, even with time separated. As she starts towards R'hin with a nod to Azaylia, Brieli's dark gaze doesn't settle in any one place just yet, taking in the surroundings. When it eventually falls on the bronzerider, her mouth quirks a touch as well, neither smile nor frown. "High Reaches' duties," she returns briskly, and she'll take that gesture as the invitation it's meant to be - either she's finding the sun a bit much, or she's in the mind to get this over with. Over an easy shrug, "It's better than snow." Spring snow, even.

Hraedhyth watches Iesaryth near the beach, but then again she's watching everything. It's fine, it gives her more room for paws to pace from the edge of the jungle and back again. There's no red in her eyes, nevermind how intensly set they are on the riders. Despite the faint sheen already settling on her brow, Azaylia will insist on keeping her leathers on. She'll eagerly accept the invitation for shade, however, with a clipped echo of, "High Reaches' duties." While her features mostly remains passive, soft, her brown eyes stare with a focus shared by the gold behind her. "Too bad your Weyrleaders couldn't make it." It might have sounded genuine, if not for pursed lips pared with that stare.

"I don't overly miss the snow. Or the constant rain." There's something wry in R'hin's tone as he responds to Brieli, his hand dropping back to his side as he adopts a casual lean against the base of the tree. His gaze settles on the dragons momentarily as he speaks, "But in this case, since I picked the location, I'm afraid I'm a poor host -- I didn't even bring any wine." There's a genuine smile for Azaylia, and even a laugh, if one of dark mirth, "My Weyrleaders... have played the political game for a long time. Don't take offense from that. If they'd sent you a weyrling, then you'd have just cause, but..." his shoulder lifts-and-drops in a single gesture, as if to indicate his disregard. "So. You said you have news?" he prompts, his head cocking to one side and gaze flickering towards Brieli, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

"They're still there," Brieli replies, with a smirk. "Even now." Not that she's bitter about the snow when it's supposed to be warming up, no. She doesn't need the tree for more than the shade, shrugging again diffidently for R'hin's hospitality or lack thereof. "It's not as if it's something enjoyable we're doing," she notes quietly, perhaps a hint as to the purpose. "And I believe... not to speak for you Azaylia, please correct me if I'm wrong... that she feels they should be responsible." There's a glance over to the other goldrider - yes? - before her attention shifts back to the bronzerider. "We do. I don't know that you'll accept it though, or your Weyrleaders - but it'll let him go home." Her tone is even, carefully so - as if this is just a academic discussion, nothing actually about people's lives.

It's a notable change, looking from R'hin to Brieli, "Oh, no. You have it right." Azaylia is prompt to answer that questioning glance, her gaze shifting back to R'hin. "Please, don't make excuses for them." Even if that seems to be his job. There's a moment of awkward silence that follows the other junior's words, any lingering objections kept tight behind still-thinned lips. "If you decide not to accept..." She finally adds in her soft voice, "Then I don't know if I," A glance to Brieli, speaking for herself at the moment, "Would be willing to let him go."

Genuine curiosity threads the bronzerider's voice: "Will it make it easier for you, if it is someone else's responsibility?" R'hin's gaze is on Brieli, at first, though it flickers briefly to Azaylia, too. A slight twist of lips follows Azaylia's comment of excuses, "Assigning blame will serve no purpose; you'll blame them, they'll blame you, and we'll be stuck at an impasse. I doubt either of us wants that." With the talk of news, he gestures as if to say, go on, and if it looks a tad impatient, it probably isn't intended that way; he appears otherwise relaxed despite the ultimatum.

"No. But it would be for some people." Brieli has no issues with meeting R'hin's gaze so he can see how serious she is about that - it's a grim sort of thing, determined. As if she can will her way through anything. "I think the issue is less blame and accepting responsibility. Because no one expects culpability. But..." She turns back to Azaylia, with the same questioning lift of fine brows, "Something. I don't expect much, to be honest." That's as much for the other goldrider as it is for him; at the gesture, she takes a breath and stops. Hands balling into fists briefly, "If he goes home, Monaco needs to execute him for the crime, which we have excessive reason to believe he committed. And that's only so he can go home. If that's not acceptable, we'll handle it. And deal with the consequences." And never mind that she's gone a bit grey and looks like she might be ill for a split-second. That'll pass. Eventually.

Azaylia takes a deep breath of the salty, humid air. It's not at all a sign that her previously unending patience might falter at R'hin's talk of responsibility and blame. Of course not. While Brieli goes grey with the weight of her words, the older junior does not falter at hearing their demands made official. "He's going to die either way." There's a heavy swallow that follows her gentle voice, coping with the aftertaste of what she has just said. A hand reaches up to rest on Brieli's shoulder as she continues, "If Monaco accepts, but doesn't go through with it... I don't know if even your Weyrleader's can find someone else to blame." Stare turns sharp, though still not quite a glare. It fades quickly, "We're willing to let him go home. To..." The junior gives a little shake of her head, point being made without anymore needing to be said. Her friend will have her shoulder squeezed before the hand retreats.

R'hin's never had overmuch difficulty reading people -- and his gaze on Brieli, intent and focused -- suggests he doesn't miss that split-second of weakness. His gaze drifts to Azaylia, pale eyes taking in her countenance with equal intensity and interest. The only pause he gives is the time with which to take in the expressions of both goldriders, and then, matter-of-fact: "We'll do it. But, we decide the how. And," he pushes up from his lean, "This happens right now. You have Svissath and his rider brought here -- and we have a deal." A beat, his voice threaded with something hard, "You have my word." He stretches out a hand, held somewhere between the two women, waiting for one, maybe both, to accept.

Though there's been irritation, there's been issues of late, the tide is quick to roar out now, urgent and hopeful. Iesaryth needs... « If she needs to go, can yours stay? » There's admiration for Hraedhyth's, but she's - for once - unsure if hers can take much more. Of what, she cannot say. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth)

Brieli reacts to Azaylia's attempt to comfort her about as well as she ever does; she tenses, she doesn't shrug the hand off, she acts as if she needed no such thing. Everything's fine. Except for, well. What isn't. "Fine." She accepts at least, though she still won't speak for the other junior, instead looking over to Azaylia with an odd, undefinable expression. "That can happen." Her own tone is weighted and heavy now, even as she'll take R'hin's hand and word both. But then, still drawn and pale, dark eyes haunted, "I'm going for a walk." While they wait, presumably. Even if it's out of the shade, it's away from all of this - and she doesn't even bother waiting for much of a response before stalking down the sand.

The burn lingers still. It is the only source of hesitation from the older gold, before a huff of ash has her annoyed silence fading. « Yes. » The fire does its best to comfort, offering as much warmth as the other gold needs. There's no question as to what Brieli is going through, only fiery reassurance that what needs to be done, will be. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth)

Azaylia allows for Brieli to shake his hand first, not looking too eager. Just before her palm touches his, "It has to be soon." The execution. "A couple of sevens at the most. But it shouldn't take that long." And then her palm will grasp his, far more firm than one would expect from a woman such as she. Once the deed is done, she turns to find Brieli's face, unable to hide the hint of concern for her. "I- of course." She literally steps up to take Brieli's place, putting herself between R'hin and the other woman's back. Hraedhyth stops pacing for once and turns her head to the sky, body tense. It may be that both golds are summoning I'kris and the guards assigned to him, but the tawny dragon certainly looks the part.

Appreciative. Iesaryth is certainly that, though distracted for the moment - it will likely be fine, it's just. « She needs a moment. » Not that the gold is all that sure how long a moment is, in reality or in Brieli's current state, but still. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth)

While he doesn't comment on it, R'hin watches the interplay between the two juniors closely. His hand presses against Brieli's, giving her a nod, though no attempt is made on his part to offer any kind of comfort -- his gaze drifts after her as she stalks away, then focuses on Azaylia as she interposes herself, the positioning not lost on the bronzerider, to judge by the faint twitch of lips. Or perhaps it's the firmness of her handshake, of which he doesn't reciprocate, allowing her to break that grasp first. All humor swiftly fades, however, at her words, something sober and regretful allowed to creep into his demeanor. "It will be soon," he says in a quiet undertone. The immediacy, and certainty of the words might well suggest a personal involvement. "I'd like for him to see his mother and sister first." But not, noteably, his father. The Monacoan otherwise exhibits patience, seeming to trust that the two weyrwoman will keep their end of the bargain, and content to respect the invisible border Azaylia's erected with her deliberate positioning.

For Brieli's part, if Azaylia's not totally blocking the view for dragons as well as R'hin, she only goes off as far as her dragon, pausing there to stare in the opposite direction. At least, she looks like she might be staring - from behind, her head seems unbowed, her arms crossed. She'll just stand there like that until the summoned dragons are in the skies above, Iesaryth lifting her head to watch. And it's only then that she'll cross the short stretch of sand in order to be part of the handover, gaze hard and expression set. Whatever issues she's having, she won't allow herself to back out of it or leave the business to the other junior alone. With little to add, and little inclination to stick around, she's gone as soon as it's all over, not looking much better for it.

Azaylia gives a short, sad little nod at R'hin's words. "Of course." There's no triumph in her gaze, and her shoulders will droop ever so slightly. Brieli is given her privacy, turning around only when the summoned dragons appear, Hraedhyth giving a snarling roar of greeting to her people. Azaylia manages to look at I'kris during the exchange, refusing to avert her eyes as they do what needs to be done. R'hin is given a proper farewell when it's finished, her exit punctuated by one last bellow of her gold before they're swept up by between.

When the dragons arrive, R'hin only has eyes for Svissath, and indeed -- as soon as he's present -- the queens can feel Leiventh stretch out towards the brown, a bulwark rather than anything invasive. R'hin's gentlemanly enough to wait until Azaylia turns before he begins to move towards the beach, though not before there's a light touch to the goldrider's shoulder, silent comfort that isn't lingered on as he goes to join the arriving riders. His hand finds Svissath's foreleg, and I'kris' leg, the bronzerider's posture stiff, expression turning flatly neutral at the boy's lack of responsiveness, though in odd contrast there's something warm and comforting in his voice as he murmurs, "Time to go home, Kris." Some of that warmth lingers in his voice as he bids the High Reaches riders farewell, and it's not long after that the pair of Monaco riders -- finally -- return home, too.