Difference between revisions of "Logs:Trust"

>---< Records Room, High Reaches Weyr(#367RJs) >-----------------------------<

  Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the     
  Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its                
  floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls,  
  and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. 
  A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view  
  of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for   
  via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several     
  tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, 
  scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a       
  many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through         
  luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets.           
                                                                            
  To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where 
  another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture.      
  Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full
  of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a       
  somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are     
  locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides      
  direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs.                                

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  Irianke      F   36 5'7"  slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes     0s 
  K'zin        M   23 6'1"  Muscled, Brown hair, Brown eyes               2m
 ----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
                        Weyr Entrance  Council Chambers                     
>----------------------------------------< 17D 13M 36T I10, winter night >---<

It's been two days after Issedi of High Reaches died and two days of Irianke burning the candle at all ends in the records room. Tonight is no different, and during the dinner hour, she sits here instead, at the large table with an assortment of records, hides, scrolls, and volumes available. There is organization to all the stacks, this not being an exercise in managed chaos, but in reality actually efficiently managed. She has a pair of scissors and red-dyed sheets at her disposable that, for those who notice such things, have become little red markers poking out of various texts. The recordskeepers have given up at telling her no, it would seem. It's probably hard to say no to someone with Irianke's knot on her shoulder.

The bronzerider's approach is quiet, though hardly intentionally so. His nose is more or less in a slender volume and his brow already furrowed in concentration when he reaches for the back of the chair across from the junior. "Do you mind?" K'zin asks casually, not having looked up enough to register more than 'oh, a person,' or he might have tried harder to find an empty table.

Irianke is in the middle of writing some notes into a personal notebook when K'zin interjects and a startled squeak escapes. "Oh. Oh!" Stone-blue eyes blink successively and turns to stare at the young man. He might look like a mesh of letters and a pile of blurred numbers at this point, for all the recognition she gives him. "Oh!" The third exclamation has her shaking her head and flashing K'zin an apologetic smile. "Please, feel free to push my mess closer to me. I don't mind."

It's only by the third 'oh' that K'zin manages to pull brown eyes away from whatever fascinating passage he was reading and land them on Irianke. A blush spreads through his dusky cheeks and his brows have shot up as he catches his breath after not quite a gasp. "Oh," his turn. "Oh, Weyrwoman, I'm sorry, I didn't..." He waves the book a little as if that will explain. "I only wanted the... uh, chair. The chair." Not really the table that's she's got things spread all over. The chair is pulled back and he drops into it as if that might make his sudden embarrassment less noticeable somehow, though with him sitting so straight and formally once he's there, he can't help but still coming off a little awkward.

"No, it's fine, I promise. I should... I should take a break now anyway." Irianke pushes herself away from the table enough to get to her feet and collect her things into more tightly reigned in piles. Still organized and methodical. Just less spread. "Interesting book? Pleasure or business?" The Reaches' new goldrider nods to indicate K'zin's book with a half-hearted smile flashed that way. Her hands come to rest atop one of those piles, a set of volumes dedicated to recent High Reaches Hold history.

"It looks... intense," K'zin assesses, all the piles, especially by comparison with his singular and small text. "Ah," the blush stays a while longer, "a little of both. Essays by past weyrlingmasters on training ideologies. A little boring unless, you know, it's your thing," which it may or may not be his, but he's reading it so... "I'm sorry, Meara's going to track me down and bend my ear." Manners. "I'm K'zin, Rasavyth's rider with Taiga." He half rises to offer his hand across the table to her, politely. That's probably when he gets a better look at her books. "Hold history?" He raises his brows inquisitively.

Interest brightens Irianke's blue eyes, her look slipping from K'zin to the text he holds. "I was actually very interested in meeting with the weyrlingmaster team and learning how training was handled at High Reaches Weyr. I'm told each Weyr does things just slightly differently and it changes from weyrlingmaster to weyrlingmaster. Have you found anything interesting?" Her own work, put aside for now, is neglected in favor of what the other rider studies. "Oh. Irianke, Niahvth's rider," she concludes with formalities, "But I don't know if I really have to introduce myself. People see to know more about me than I know about myself before meeting me these days. The worst," she confesses, "Kind of notoriety."

"If it makes you feel better," K'zin addresses the last point first as he settles into his chair, "All I know about you is that you're lately from Igen," which doesn't even guarantee that he knows anything about her origins. "I'm afraid I'm a better pupil of books than the rumor mill." His eyes fall to the book and he clears his throat, "Well, I think a lot of what is useful in the Pass isn't as critical now. The focus has shifted and it seems like Quinlys sees and appreciates that. I know she's tried out some new things with each class that's come through since Meara retired. Meara was... well, more traditional, but then she would be," though he doesn't explain that remark. "I assisted a little at Telgar for a time, with their weyrlings so I can at least attest that it's different. It's probably much like different Weyrwomen handle things differently. Are you finding working with Azaylia to your liking so far?"

Whether K'zin's lack of knowledge of her disappoints or relieves her is unclear from her neutral to warm look, maintained throughout. Irianke's head tilts and her hands fidget, drumming beats against the top of her stacks. It's the last she addresses, flitting past the information on weyrlinghoods at High Reaches and Telgar. Azaylia. "The Weyrwoman is young," she begins with the obvious, before continuing into the political, "But capable given she wasn't given the kind of training most goldriders in her position have spent turns accumulating. I think we work well enough together so far, but I'm not sure if she's really given me anything to sink my teeth into quite yet. A lack of trust, perhaps? Which isn't altogether unexpected." She gives a tiny little forward shrug and a broad-lipped smile. "What are your thoughts?"

To his credit (and probably that of all bronzerider kind), K'zin listens attentively while Irianke speaks, and with no apparent political savvy. He's just listening, taking what she says at face value. His brows knit in thought when she asks him, his lips pressing together and pulling into a troubled look. "To be honest, Weyrwoman, I think Azaylia got used to having to watch her back with Aishani. They... It was never the same after Brieli was suddenly Aishani, who-" he gets distracted and follows the tangent, "-I guess was Aishani always, but kept it a secret from her friends - like Zay - and then when it came out..." He shakes his head. "I remember that night. The night I Impressed. It wasn't easy for Zay. For any of us. I know she knows not all goldriders are like that, but... it's not an easy thing to get over, I'd think." He clears his throat, the blush making itself felt again, "Anyway, I'm sure in time you'll get along better."

Irianke's hand strays to another stack to drum there. The spines on these texts indicate High Reaches Weyr history. The light drumming turns into one final pat with her hands resting there. "I'd read about some of it. The recordskeepers did a magnificent job of reporting it in a neutral fashion, or trying to. It'd be hard to remove all shock from it. Aishani's father was the one hung? Beheaded? By Tiriana and K'del?" She must already know. She's just read them and those little red marks in these texts are all over the place. "High Reaches Weyr has had some fascinating characters as leaders. There must be so much that wasn't written down, discarded as gossip or like this, I understand more why Azaylia might not trust people inherently from the texts, but your eyewitness account makes it seem more personal. Like," Niahvth's rider considers the air, her teeth ruminating over her lower lip to try and catch a thought and bring it to verbal life, "I can feel the tension that must have existed at the Weyr after this came to light?"

"Hung," K'zin answers, perhaps a little uncertain of the latter. "It does have a very colorful history, and one with a lot of loose ends, I've always thought." The bronzerider contemplates that as his eyes drift over all the little red tags. "It's hard to trust someone you got to know well in weyrlinghood, who you feel has betrayed you. Even if that's not the case. I'd imagine anyway." His tone speaks of some personal experience, but his eyes are drifting to where the door to the restricted records are kept behind lock and key, a briefly amused smile flitting across his lips.

"Would," Irianke poses, leaning into those stacks with the other hand suddenly bracing her weight, "High Reaches Weyr have let Brieli stand if she had confessed to being the daughter of a known criminal? Given," the Igen goldrider looks down at the stack her right hand is on, "This Weyr let known criminal elements stand for a clutch, one of whom now leads a wing?" They're all leading questions, but neither the goldrider's inflection nor demeanor passes judgment. She's stating facts and posing the question with those facts, those ever curious grey-blue eyes fixed onto K'zin to watch how he reacts and ultimately answers.

"It's a fair question," K'zin acknowledges. "It might've been different for her given the personal nature of the situation between Aishani and K'del." He shrugs his shoulders. "Not sure what Taikrin's crimes were, if they were against the Weyr or elsewhere." Another shrug. "Can't say as I ever understood why Aishani Stood for 'Reaches at all. Or why she stayed in the same Weyr as K'del. I'd've probably wanted to be far away from it all. I'd ask N'rov, but he... probably doesn't want to talk about that." Perhaps understandably.

Irianke starts rearranging her stacks, turning six into two, with one significantly taller than the other. "I'm done with these," she announces, louder for the benefit of the poor recordskeeper on duty. The beleagured young woman restrains herself from sighing and gathers them up to put away properly. These are the ones that don't have red marks in them at all. "I'll need to take these to my weyr if that's possible," the weyrwoman adds quickly. To K'zin, Irianke asks, "Have you eaten dinner yet? Will you join me in my weyr to eat? I suddenly realize I'm famished and then recall my last meal might have been sometime in the middle of the night earlier today."

K'zin's eyes follow the recordskeeper as she collects the books and hauls them away. "I-" He starts in answer to her question, "I'm actually supposed to meet my-er, someone. For dinner. I shouldn't probably have taken as long as I have, either." He looks sheepishly at the book. "I'd better go, too. But I can carry your books, if you like. To your weyr for you, before I go meet her." That's what bronzeriders are for, right? Carrying the books of goldriders?

"Aren't you sweet?" Irianke's smile is cheeky. Her arms come out to indicate, all yours. "I'd like to get to know the bronzeriders at this Weyr," says the goldrider, her eventual tease beginning forthrightly, "It's easier to gauge who might be good for us and the Weyr if I know who are Niahvth's potential candidates. So if you ever have a meal to spare, think of me."

"Certainly," K'zin concedes, and it's only after he's collected up her books, along with his own single one, that he says. "I don't... I don't mind, only, I think it's only fair to say that we wouldn't be. Good, for the Weyr, and we were shit sires at Fort. And Ras hasn't even been chasing these days, so it would pretty much have to be a miracle for him to catch Niahvth." All this comes in a pretty quick tumble of words. "So I wouldn't want you to waste your time if you weren't inclined to-- waste it." He concludes, intelligently, which might be part of his argument for why they're not good potentials, if potentials at all.

"How do you even know what we'd be looking for, Niahvth and I?" Out of the records room and the magnitude of the somber stuff in there, Irianke's smile brightens, turning practically impish as she slants the younger man a look. "We're the last weyr along that row," she adds. Aishani's old weyr. Apparently Teris and Iolene's too. Three dead goldriders. Doom doom doom.

"I don't," K'zin is quick to answer that much, and also to follow directions, the books not much of a burden to him. "Only, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not... we're not. I'm not smart." K'zin's blurt is probably testament in of itself. "And Ras... well, he's not himself these days," which has the bronzerider briefly looking more concerned than he'd probably like to look in the presence of a stranger. "Anyway, I'll come for dinner, if you want." So awkward. At least it's not so far to her weyr! She won't have to put up with this for long.

Irianke's smile falters and she keeps the silence, however awkward for until she reaches her weyr. Once there, she retrieves her books and looks to K'zin, the darkness of her blue eyes shadowed now by a dimly lit weyr. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look troubled and look like you could use a good ear to listen to your troubles, not," she lifts a quick hand, nearly dropping her books in the process, "That I would be that ear since you hardly know or trust me. But I hope you find an ear. One that'll listen and say all the right things and give you what you need."

"Oh," K'zin offers dumbly, to her words. "I'm... we're talking to Leova." Some. It's not entirely a lie, but then, he doesn't seem to be a very good liar. "Thanks, for... your concern." He's backing away now, his book given over with hers, but the backing away only lasts a pair of paces before he's turning and heading off at a jog. At least he'll probably be back for the book, if perhaps not the dinner.