Difference between revisions of "Logs:Something To Say"

Since That Flight (tm), it didn't seem as long ago to him as it really was, H'vier had kept a low profile. As low of a profile as an obnoxiously sexist and promiscuous bronzerider was capable of keeping, at least. Flying fists had been kept to a relative minimum. And while he had little, if any, respect for his Wingleader, he'd done his duty as was expected. As Reisoth demanded.

But now his Wingleader was also his Weyrleader. If not for Reisoth's cool, collected influence, H'vier might have done something worth regretting the first time he'd seen the woman after he'd heard the Weyrwoman's decision. It wasn't that the bronze didn't share some of his rider's objections - he might tolerate a brown, but a green being Weyrleader was simply unnatural - but he had always been less prone to violent outbursts, preferring subtle manipulation. It's part of what made them a good pair.

In the sevens following Sisha's appointment, H'vier was having more and more difficulty dealing. It might have been easier if he'd been in another wing, not having to face her directly quite so often. But the reminder was straining Reisoth's ability to keep his rider from reacting in unsavory ways.

« I doubt the Weyrwoman would appreciate you putting her chosen Weyrleader in her 'rightful place,' H'vier. » His oafish rider had such an embarrassingly limited repertoire, at times. « We would be served better by showing the Weyrwoman why she should have chosen us in the first place. It helps neither of us when you behave little better than Szadath's rider. »

That soothed H'vier's angry resentment, but only for a few days.

--

"It's about time there was a competent Weyrleader with the reins. Sisha'll show all them boys how it's supposed to be done, I bet," the woman sitting to H'vier's left was saying, but not to him. She noticed his contemptuous snort, though, and turned her head to give him a look. "You got something to say, asshole?"

It was a challenge but not one that would earn a raised hand. H'vier rarely hit women, after all. Even when he was a few cups into his evening.

"The only thing I need that bitch showing me is her old ass. Bet she knows her way real good around a di--"

"You got a problem with the Weyrleader, Istan?" It was a broad brownrider that was walking around the disgusted woman to face H'vier more directly. He didn't look like he agreed with the bronzerider. Not even a little. It made H'vier give him a vaguely confused expression, frowning.

"Of course I have a fucking problem," H'vier began, sounding a little appalled that it was even in question. "A sharding woman has no business being in that sort of position. It's bad enough we let the Weyrwoman pick the Weyrleader. Like a goldrider knows what it takes to keep the wings in line. You can't tell me the only reason she didn't pick a proper Weyrleader is because she knows they'd put her in her fucking place."

He didn't get to say anything else because the brownrider's fist hitting his jaw knocked him off of his stool and onto his back. As soon as there was enough air in his lungs, H'vier was laughing. Trying to laugh, anyway, as he pushed himself to his hands and knees.

"Sharding faggot. If you knew what to do with a woman, you'd have the decency to act like a man." He probably should have waited until he was on his feet to say that. Instead he got a swift, hard kick in the gut by the brownrider. He faltered but the anger that rose inside of him let him surge up and toward the brownrider with a fist aimed to return the favor of a blow to the gut.

There was yelling somewhere, he could hear the buzz of anxious and angry voices but he couldn't make out the words. The only thing in his world was the brownrider trying to shield his face with raised arms underneath him and Reisoth's clinical presence somewhere in the back of his mind.

It wasn't until the brownrider went limp that the bronze's voice echoed metallically through H'vier's head. « ENOUGH. » He stopped, bloodied fist pulled back, breathing ragged. The voices were silent now. No one came forward until the woman that had spoken earlier rushed over to thump at his chest and swear at him, before making sure the brownrider was still breathing.

H'vier didn't wait to watch. He got to his feet and left. Reisoth was waiting for him in the bowl and the pair blinked between as soon as they were high enough. They needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else, right now.