Difference between revisions of "Logs:Fallout"

Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr

With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.

Though the Nighthearth takes its name from another time of day entirely, late afternoon finds it giving refuge to those sorely in need of a few moments of silence and a klah-pick-me-up post duties. The only person apparently in need of this in the past few moments is K'zin. Today, there are dark circles under his eyes. Not enough to be bruises, but nearly! It's just evidence that for whatever reason, sleep hasn't been a friend to the Taiga rider. He's deeply slouched in an armchair, a large mug of klah clasped between his hands, resting the bottom edge on the curve the slouch provides in his chest, keeping the rim of the mug close enough to his mouth to nurse the nectar every few moments.

Having drawn morning watch duty on the Star Stones, and since having finished such and having blipped down to Monaco to catch a drink and some warm sands and a swim, Alida is subsequently found - after her return - entering the night heart area... with a tag-along. There's a scrappy-looking teen boy trails her, looking all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, and it's perhaps not only for the food that the bluie will be introducing him to. He sports a crisp new candidate's white knot at his shoulder, and an energetic bounce in his step to accompany the gleam in his brown eyes and the incessant chatter he subjects Alida to. "Has he ever Searched anyone before me? I've been Searched a couple times before at Monaco, but I wanted to see the world, ya know? Thanks for bringing me here, ma'am; I'm starving! Wish Ilicaeth didn't think we had to get me back here so fast, or I would've grabbed some food at home!" The kid's voice - still in that transitional, wavery phase between youth and maturity - drone on pleasantly while the blonde leading him in holds to her slightly long-suffering expression. It's only as she and her 'companion' dip into the hearth area proper than she notices a very tired K'zin there. A singular moment transforms the bluie's expression to a mixed miasma of anger, concern, and regret before she masters her features, and adopts her older, more habitual mien of flat blandness.

At present, K'zin's face is too tired to make any grand showing of emotion. It settles after observing the chattering teen trailing the stoic bluerider into amusement. He remains silent for the moment, nursing that glass, and simply arches a silent brow in some sort of question to the blonde woman. Maybe something as simple as, 'And he still has a tongue after the dragon ride?' Or even more simple, 'Ilicaeth's searching, huh?' After another moment, he's starting to push himself up in the chair, wiggling his body northward with shifts of his shoulders that almost have him using his shoulderblades to climb the fluff of the back of the chair.

What; he's acknowledging her...and not with anger or chill indifference? The amusement upon K'zin's features and his vaguely questioning arch of brow have Alida staring at him in some wary surprise for a few moments before she turns back to the kid and clips off a controlled, somewhat vexed, "One helping only. We got others between meals that need ta' eat." And the Weyr's still thin on enough supplies. "Oh; okay..." the teen offers, then stepping up to the hearth itself to nab the biggest bowl upon it and a spoon so he can grab himself a full serving of the wherry stew within the lidded pot over the flames. Even as the kid's doing this, he's chattering some, "I'm glad you pointed me to the stores, Alida. Though you say this is pretty warm, it's still cold to *me*." Grin. Him being a southerner, of course. "Welcome..." the woman mutters just barely loud enough to be heard, then letting her gaze flick over warily to K'zin once again. Low, and with continued hesitance and some chill self-preservation, she mumbles the bronzer's way, "Ya look like shit." Her back is towards the youth, and this allows her to make a subtle, strangling motion upon the air in front of her as her eyes roll.

It's true that past interactions since Rasavyth's dissolution of their alliance have had K'zin preoccupied with other things and always seeming busy, but he's not been hostile. Ignoring her? Yeah, but no overt shows of anger or other unpleasant emotions. This is, however, the first show of any postive-ish emotion. And it might be snarky amusement, except he's too tired to snark. So it's just amusement as he watches on. "You know," K'zin's baritone cuts into the conversation after the bluerider makes her conversation, loud enough to be heard, "If you made him call you Rider Alida, and mind his manners about respecting his elders, he might not chatter so much." K'zin's clearly not so many turns older than the southerner, but there's a distinction made anyway, and that same amusement in his tone. About him looking like shit? Well, he doesn't volunteer an explanation. He looks at the lad in a measuring sort of way for a moment, and lifts his mug as his eyes flick away and to the blonde.

Slowly, she ramps down a little of her bristly self-protection as K'zin speaks, the blonde striking up a considering expression at them, then turning her cool gaze upon the youth. "Oh... Uhm, sorry bluerider. Ma'am." Beat. "Sir," is offered apologetically to the bronzer. The outgoing blabbermouth appears to have been well-enough chastised by K'zin, for he's actually coloring at his cheeks a little, then suggesting, "I think I'll go look around for some other candidates in the living cavern, ma'am. I thought I saw a couple other white knots there when we came in. I like making others in a group feel at home. After all..." And then he realizes he's nattering again, and with another blush, the teen simply smiles uneasily, and excuses himself, stepping smartly out. And when he's well and truly gone...the woman wilts some in relief, unable to help but giving off a low, soft groan as she moves towards the hearth. "Sweet baby Faranth; thank the ever lovin' stars."

K'zin's brown gaze follows the lad as he goes, though he makes no other verbal contribution to slow his progress. Thoughtfully, but still a touch amused, he comments to the air without turning his eyes away from the young man's back, "He's going to have a tough time making them feel at home since this is home for almost all of them." He shifts his mug into one hand instead of both and now he glances to the bluerider. His manner is a little cool, but not much more so than it's been when K'zin's been stand-offish in the past. The tone is polite, conversational, but not overly familiar or friendly. "I see you and Ilicaeth decided to ignore the Weyrleaders' suggestion to keep search in-Weyr?"

"Yeah..." Alida mutters as she pours herself some klah, the woman rubbing absently at her forehead for a moment as she parses out how K'zin sounds, 'feels,' looks when she turns back around. As for his next words, just a little snarkily, "They didn' say what Weyr." Snert, sip. "Ilicaeth wanted 'im badly enough, anyway." She doesn't sound convinced about her blue's choice, though.

"The way I heard it, what Weyr they meant was pretty obvious." About which Weyr. But then, these things do change as people pass them along. K'zin doesn't make that comment aloud, but the shrug of his shoulders dismisses a desire to argue the point. "There's only a dozen eggs, or so, says the scuttlebutt." He shifts his weight, leaning forward and then pressing himself up out of the seat, proceeding to drain his mug. "Wonder if you'll get a slap on the wrist for it or if they won't really care." The phrasing is pretty dull like he doesn't have so much interest in it, so much as it's something to say. Something to wonder about.

There's a twist of lips for K'zin's first set of words and a faint narrowing of eyes, Alida then shrugging near in tandem with the bronzer as she samples from her mug of klah again. "Don't count 'em before ya see 'em..." is all the bluie notes blandly about Hrae's eggs. The man's next words, though, don't bode as well for conversation, and with a faint thinning of lips, the guard notes, "Like I really give a shit. Never know if I'm doin' 'em a favor, since the kid might be the only decent match ta' some hatchling in that clutch. Rather have a pissy Weyrleader pair 'n a dead dragonet." Sip.

K'zin simply smirks, moving to set his mug in the tray for dirty dishes that will doubtlessly be collected at some point. He turns toward the bluerider, angles a political smile in her direction and says with sincerity (that's all too likely anything but), "Always a pleasure talking to you, Alida." Then there's a crisp turn and he's heading off.

The look in her eyes is self-depreciating and angry: she should've known better than to trust him. Still, Alida remains in control as she pounds down the rest of her klah, then noting coolly back, "I see yer lessons with 'im 'r goin' well." Him equals Rasavyth, most likely. "Hope the Weyr c'n survive possibly havin' you two at the helm, someday." She's rarely ever politic, and so a very sloppy, mocking salute's given to the departing person she once-called a dear friend, and then Alida's left to both seethe and - in her private place within - mourn. Nobody but Ilicaeth will 'see' it, though.