Difference between revisions of "Logs:Keeping Secrets"

It's a few hours into the by no means poor or downbeat celebration at the Hold that Fort's Weyrwoman slips away from finding all the people she's 'supposed' to talk to, dancing with all of the /other/ people she's 'supposed' to dance with, and generally trying to behave in a manner as befits her knot, to find her way to one of the quieter areas of the setup that Fort's new Lord and Lady have planted through the grounds of the Hold. A fair distance from the dance square, some booths sell cheaper, stronger drinks than those that some of the vintners are pushing to follow the free fizzy stuff that Astivan has been plying his guests with, and its towards these that Hattie makes her way, now allowing the stress of the situation to show on her features, her fists clenched at her sides.

N'rad would be one of the folks just generally hanging around at the moment, not really part of the direct celebration, but nearby. Perhaps for curiosity's sake. Neither his outfit nor his missing knot would set him apart as one of the Weyr's visiting riders, but he hasn't exactly disguised himself, either. At the moment, he is leaning against the post of one of those booths, arms crossed, gaze vaguely focused toward the main event. It's probably a good bet he hasn't noticed, or at least recognized Hattie. If he did, he would have been scurrying for the shadows, no doubt.

Hattie is too intent on getting a drink, significantly less classy though it may be, with a proper kick and without the stares of many to study her every move, to notice N'rad leaning against that post. At first. It gives him a few moments of grace, as she hands over marks and receives not a glass, but a small, barely half-full mug in return, but as she steps back, her gaze swings towards him and /stays/ there. Just the sight of him requires a gulp from that mug, knocked back quickly, and though she could easily turn away, she takes a step towards him instead, after deliberately making sure that she doesn't have to see or speak with him for all these months. "Did you /know/?" she demands, voice low.

The bronzerider's first inkling is when someone takes a step toward him. Too slowly, N'rad turns his head to peer at... yeeeah, that sick look on his face might be answer enough. He straightens from the drink vendor's post as his arms slowly lower to his sides, but there is definitely no running. Riding might have put some extra tone on his muscles, but it hasn't quite managed to stiffen his spine yet, which leaves the man cringing slightly. "Know what?" he asks nervously, as if there's any way he couldn't understand her meaning.

Hattie scoffs, like the very need for her to explain what she means is beneath the both of them. "What your dear friends were planning to do," she says lowly, still with that same, deadly-low tone. "With Boll. With Ali. With /me/." She continues making her way across the short distance between them, bit by little bit, even though it means that she has to slowly tilt her head back to look up at him. "Why didn't you go with them? Wherever they've gone. Do you know /that/?"

Luckily, N'rad isn't /too/ much taller than Hattie. Because who needs even more awkwardness today? For all that he /is/ taller, though, he's the one backing away from the Weyrwoman. Not that he can go too far, bumping right into that vendor booth's post again. "I... not," he sputters, grimacing as he glances to said vendor, though the other guy is suddenly busy. None of his business, right? N'rad moves to the side slightly, so as not to jostle that booth too much more than he already has. "I said no. Told 'em I wasn't... didn't want to... y'know. Get involved." Makes everything better.

"/Get involved/?" Hattie echoes, a fury hotter than the steely-voiced anger that she's shown so far flaring suddenly, along with the volume of her voice. "You /said no/. You /told them/." Either she's deliberately pausing to give him a chance to interrupt and explain himself in the depth she appears to require, or she genuinely cannot find the words to express herself without repeating and borrowing his. "So, you /knew/ what they were going to do? You /let that happen/?" she accuses, now on the verge of invading his personal space.

N'rad doesn't seem to have words of his own, either, so there's a lot of mouth movement, but no sound. He doesn't back up any farther, but probably only because his boot heels ran into something, and he's afraid of tripping. "I didn't /know/," the rider finally spits out, raising his hands with palms out as if to defend himself. "I mean... not... what..." There's a stumble as he forgets about whatever's behind him, though he doesn't fall. "Not /exactly/. I didn't... didn't want to..." Either calm or resignation settles in just then, quite possibly an influence from Maldoranth.

It's lucky that Hattie has that mug in her grip, for it makes her consciously aware of what she's doing or can do with her hands, and keeps her from making an impulsive grab for N'rad's collar while she's there with all that lack of space between then. "Define /not exactly/," she insists, her voice turning deceptively, mockingly sweet. "And just what the living fuck you didn't want to do, because from where I'm standing, you /let/ them manipulate your /home/ and rob both Fort and Boll blind." And, oh yes: "You /let/ me and Ali walk right into-" The words run out then and she puts a quick backwards step of distance between them as though physically repulsed by his mere presence.

N'rad sucks in a deep breath when Hattie's voice takes on that sweet tone. While he winces, it isn't quite the same as the cringing from earlier. "That was... what I didn't know," he answers her in a low voice. "Or where they went. Or how to find them. When to find them." There's definitely a grimace for that little bit, and when Hattie moves back, N'rad stays right where he is. "And then everything happened and... I thought." He cuts himself off with a shake of his head as he looks off to the side, though there's nothing there to see. Or to help. His jaw works momentarily, but when the moment is done, he turns back to Hattie. "Just... didn't know what to do. I'm sorry. Really. To you, and Ali, and... and everyone."

"/When/?" Hattie stares, and then to /stop/ staring, she takes another mouthful of the harsh-edged stuff she's got in her mug. "How do we know they haven't just gone to whenever you were put to Maldoranth? Surely you'd know that /when/." Jaw set, she too looks away, off and down to the dusty ground. "I don't know why you didn't go with them..." she mutters bitterly. "You and Reesa both - how are we to ever trust that you aren't working with them? /You knew/." Some of it. "You had /days/, N'rad. Days when we were-" No, she can't go there, but she /can/ and does look back up at the young bronzerider. "And you let them do that to us. To Ali and her baby. Elaruth and Isyath. And I'm supposed to keep you in /my/ Weyr?"

This is probably what N'rad has been expecting, because when Hattie gets to the points of trust and staying with Fort, the bronzerider slumps against the booth and turns away. There's a really interesting spot he needs to stare at, over there, next to the bottom of a wall. "I heard about it after... everything," he explains, then looks down at his hands, which he presses together tightly. "We just left. Ran away, I guess. All I ever seem to do." Emotions crease his face and tug at the muscles in his cheeks and jaw as he fights them back. "I didn't go with them," he starts, then has to stop. He surreptitiously scrubs at a bit of his face, then stands, one hand going into a back pocket. When he pulls it out, he's tightly gripping a somewhat tangled knot. "I didn't go with them because they're not /right/," N'rad explains, facing Hattie finally. "I can show you where we were. When. But can you trust me?" He laughs weakly and holds the knot toward her. "/I/ don't trust me. Just going to mess up again, so I'll just go home and work. Mal and I can fish. Something." His hand moves further toward Hattie.

"...I can't trust that any image you give me won't deliver us straight into their hands..." Hattie utters with a misery made heavier by the burn of that cheap alcohol. Her gaze drops to that tangled knot and stays there as it's held towards her, a distance to her focus that speaks of not /only/ seeing the woven cords before her. The last day of the turn and... she's not kind enough or sure enough to push the knot back at N'rad. Instead, she hooks fingers through it and tries to extract it from his grip without touching him at all. "You don't get to go home," she informs him, voice hard. "You don't get to run away and hide again. I will speak with the Weyrleader and you are going to face this. If I can manage not to scream and rage at you, then /you/ can face the consequences of keeping secrets. Every. Single. Day."

It isn't that hard to get the knot out of N'rad's hands. As soon as Hattie reaches for them, he seems rushed to get rid of it. At the news he can't go back to his family, he looks hurriedly into her face, his common look of panic present for a moment before the rest sinks in, slowly blanking his expression. "I don't really /want/ to run again," he admits quietly. "I just wanted to keep my family safe." Same old broken record. "Just tell me what to do. I won't leave again."

"It's a shame that you couldn't think of /us/ as your family. Maybe then you'd have done something to protect us, rather than serving yourself and your agenda," Hattie replies, curling her fingers around that knot for a moment, before she loops it onto her wrist with her jewellery and secures it there, like some horrible trophy of war. "If I had my way..." She shakes her head. "I /apologised/ to you, for thinking ill, and all this time..." Well, it's lucky that his fate is not entirely in her hands, or has made it not so. "I don't know what to do with you. I don't know what uses you have; what uses won't have /someone/ relying on you. From tomorrow morning, you are grounded to the Weyr until we decide what purpose you can possibly serve."

The words sting, that much is evident, and his face starts to turn rather pink when she reminds him of her own apology, which now seems like a distant memory. N'rad quickly nods his agreement to Hattie's instructions and swallows hard while he rubs hands gone sweaty against the fabric of his trousers. "I'll get Maldoranth... I'll go back now. And wait." That is, if Mal can take off while carrying the giant ball of lead that now sits in N'rad's stomach, of course. He opens his mouth one last time, but whatever he might have said, he fails to say it, and just lets his gaze fall to the ground.

"Most men in your position would want to get fall down drunk and enjoy a last night of freedom." Is that advice? Judgement of those men? Hattie is already stepping back to clear a path, once again trying to give him enough room (and then some) to pass without touching her, now that the urge to all up in his face and make /demands/ has ebbed and left her nothing but bitter. "You'll be assigned temporary duties by tomorrow evening. Elaruth may be /sweet/, but I suggest Maldoranth doesn't test her." She's still too angry and hurt to resist the temptation and the need to twist the knife just a /little/ bit more. "Maybe you /should/ have gone with them." Stage whisper, as she looks away to let him pass.

"Good for them," N'rad answers back, regarding those other men. It's not bitterness in his own voice, though. He's just stock full of dark resignation. He finally takes the hint that he should go now and starts moving to do so, but as he's passing Hattie, he offers a quiet parting word of, "Enjoy the party." The saddest part is, he probably means it, clueless as to the mood in which he's managed to leave his Weyrwoman. True to his word (this time), Maldoranth's dark bulk can soon be seen rising above the Hold, and a moment later, he's blinked away, back to the Weyr.