Difference between revisions of "Logs:An Apology"

Orchards, High Reaches Hold

Sheltered from the winds while still open to the sunlight, High Reaches Hold's orchards provide ordered row after ordered row of carefully cultivated fruit trees. Even here, inland from the main hold, the faint tang of salt is recognisable in the air, mingling with sweeter scents from the fruit; on fine days, this can be a pleasant spot indeed to spend a few hours.

It shouldn't be too surprising that many of Fort's riders and residents have used the excuse of the wedding at High Reaches Hold for a chance to relax and unwind. The stresses of the recent trial and subsequent execution are probably well known even outside the Weyr. While Ali has spent most of the morning in the company of various groups of Fortian riders and residents, there was a period where she spent quite a bit of time dancing - at one point catching K'del's eye, but without much of a chance to stop and talk to him, lost him in the crowd later. It may - or may not - be a surprise that perhaps an hour later, Cadejoth feels the cold light of shimmering stars across his consciousness, Isyath a notable sight in the skies above, having coaxed some other dragons to join her, and oblivious to the moods of the other queens, native of otherwise. She's enjoying herself, and that's really all that matters. « Come fly with me. We haven't flown together in a very long time. » Long enough that she only vaguely remembers the hot desert winds. But it is not merely a social greeting, for after a pause, she adds, « Mine wishes to talk to yours by the trees. » It's accompanied by an image, a patch of ground dappled over by the shade of the trees above.

K'del has been seen in the company of a number of different people, throughout the afternoon: High Reachians, of course, but also natives of the Holds in his coverage area, and even occasionally others from further afield. His expression, as they caught each other's eyes, would have been difficult to interpret - except, perhaps, as politically neutral, and even that may have been difficult given the crowds. Now, Cadejoth's easy enough to cajole into the skies, allowing Isyath's stars to reflect endlessly off the shiny metal of his own mental touch. « A very long time, » he agrees, pleased with the invitation. « And such different skies. He says he will be there presently. » 'Presently' is within ten minutes or so; K'del is visible first from a distance, his expression thoughtful as he wanders with apparent aimlessness towards the largely undisturbed orchards. "Ali?"

Isyath's pleasure at being joined by the High Reaches bronze is palpable, demonstrated with a diving swoop towards the Hold's fireheights, perhaps earning some murmuring and staring from the crowd below that, some time later, might reach Ali's ears. For now, however, the Fortian junior is blissfully unaware of her dragon's antics. She's dressed in gather clothes, a silky beige number embroidered at the hem and sleeves - far fancier than she's used to, to judge by the way she occasionally brushes at it. She's standing under the tree, a glass of something white and bubbly in hand, chewing her lower lip and entirely unaware just how anxious a picture she sets as the High Reaches Weyrleader approaches her. "Sir," she says, breathlessly, trying for a tentative smile, as if unsure how he might react. "I'm glad you came. I- I wasn't sure if you would."

No doubt it will cause all kinds of rumours: Cadejoth, flying with yet another queen, especially one that he's chased in the past. But such considerations are beyond his cares, right now: there are fireheights to swoop down at, after the queen, and oceanic winds, too. Care is for later. K'del's not smiling as he approaches, dressed so carefully in the blue and black of his Weyr - and though he was drinking earlier, he doesn't seem to be now. "Rather thought we no longer had much to say to each other," he says, not quite able to keep the faint hints of an earlier hurt out of his voice, for all that he tries. "So you've got me curious, I suppose. Regretting your invitation already? Afraid of a scene?" But no, he's speaking quietly, now, as he comes to a halt not too far from her, brows raised in an unanswered question.

Regret is not the foremost thing in Ali's open expression, no- it's something closer to discomfort and uncertainty. K'del's expression, and the response that follows, makes her duck her head, attention fixed on the ground, fingers clasped tightly around the glass she's holding. "You might not have much to say, but I- I owe you an apology, sir." The dark-haired weyrwoman takes a breath, pauses, and finally says, "I'm sorry for leading you to believe Fort would support you at Weyr Council. I hope you can understand that I did it for my home. I didn't want to lie to you but- it meant the difference between my people having a hard winter or a comfortable one, it was no choice, no matter how much I like you." Another chew of her lips, and she darts a glance up at him to determine how well, or how poorly, her words are taken.

K'del's silence lasts for one second, and then a second and third; it's long enough that it may begin to become uncomfortable, and if Ali glances up, she'll see his expression is awkward, his eyes closed. Finally, in a quiet voice that is striving to be even and unemotional, he says, "I know. You did what you had to for your Weyr, and given... it's not as though I wouldn't do almost anything for mine. Won't say it didn't hurt, or that I wasn't angry... but I do understand." He's looking at her, now, watching for her reaction. There's a rueful note to his voice when, a moment later, he's adding, "Honestly, didn't think you had it in you to lie like that. Surprised the sh-- surprised me."

As the silence stretches into the one, two, three seconds, the Fortian woman looks increasingly ill. It's only as he says he understands that, finally, Ali releases a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "I'm glad everything turned out well. With- with you." Being Weyrleader, does she mean? Or something more? She doesn't seem about to elaborate, anyway, taking a sip from her glass- more to wet her throat than with any obvious enjoyment of the probably expensive liquid. It's K'del's latter comment that startles her the most; she blinks for a moment, then a tentative smile appears. "I- I was a hair's breath from throwing up all over you," she admits, with a humor that's only present now, looking back.

Wryly, K'del admits, "I'd probably be a lot less prosaic about it if I'd lost. But things... turned out ok." Surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly), he doesn't seem wholly enthused with the way things are, rather as though 'ok' is about the best he can manage. Her smile, though: that he's more enthusiastic about, returning hers with an unreserved one of his own. "I can imagine," he agrees. "You did well. Did well by your Weyr. And by yourself. Things are... quietening down at Fort, now, I hope."

Oh, there's definitely surprise in Ali's expression at the lack of enthusiasm from K'del, enough that she hesitates for a while, studying him- but she's not expert enough at reading people to under the /why/. "Is- is everything else, I mean, all right?" She lifts a hand, then aborts the gesture, hastily, pretending like she was simply shifting her glass from one hand to another. At the mention of Fort, the dark-haired woman goes a little pale, lips thinned, though she forces a (admittedly fake) smile. "It's- it's good that we've resolved things. Even if- even if it ended the way it did." The queasiness of her expression is enough to suggest that she may well have witnessed that, which might be odd knowing the woman.

The way K'del sucks in his breath makes it rather look as though he's choosing his words carefully. "As much as I am glad to have held on to my knot," he says, slowly, "and as capable as Iolene is, I do feel bad that circumstances have thrown her in to the senior role so quickly. From experience, I know how difficult it is." The seriousness in his expression as he relates that is undiminished by her answer to his reference to Fort - he seems no more enthused about it than she is, and rather distinctly troubled, for all that he nods. "It's not an easy thing, in the end. Guilty, yes, and yet... I'm sorry. That you've had to experience that."

All the while as he's talking, Ali's studying him carefully, sympathy in her expression. "But she still has- Lujayn, is it?- to assist her. Are- do you regret it?" It's a bold question, and she doesn't dare name Tiriana. One should never invoke the devil's name, after all. Tugging a hand through her hair, the Fortian woman presses her lips together. "I had to see it through to the end. One day- I might have to make the decision myself." A breath, then, stealing a look at him, "Have you ever had to- to do that? Exile someone? Order their death?"

"Lujayn," agrees K'del, firmly. "And Azaylia and Brieli will graduate in a few months, and that will make it much easier. It's simply-- she's doing fine. It's fine. We're fine." His smile seems even enough, if lacking any particular enthusiasm. "No, I don't regret it. I did what I had to for my Weyr. Ysavaeth surprised us all, but we're better off even so." Sympathy colours his expression as he considers the rest of what Ali has to say; he seems to be nodding without even realising it, an absent gesture that is followed by a heavy sigh and a confirmation. "Nearly ten turns ago. A group of rogue traders and thieves. Most of them ended up in the mines, after we caught them, but the ringleader was executed. I--" He swallows, hard. "Still wonder, sometimes, whether there was a better option. And yet if he'd lived, I don't doubt he'd've found a way to come for us again."

The repetition of the word fine- once, twice, three times- is not lost even on Ali, who is normally oblivious to such nuances. And while she chews her lower lip as if contemplating how to address that, eventually she lets it slide with a smile to match his. While he speaks, the Fortian woman's gaze is fixed to his expression, a shaky, uneven breath released. Only now does she feel comfortable enough to admit, "Part of me is- glad I don't have to live with that fear anymore- of what might happen next, who might get hurt. As selfish as that sounds." She wraps one hand around her waist, the other still holding lightly to that glass. In the distance, the sounds of the harpers playing and raucous laughter is heard, in stark contrast to the conversation at hand. "I'm sorry, I- we shouldn't be talking about this, not at a wedding. I'm afraid there's not too many people I can talk to about this, who might understand." She exhales a breath. "Would you- do you think it would be okay if we danced? I'd... I'd like to part ways on happier terms."

There are hints in K'del's expression to suggest he's relieved when Ali doesn't pursue his remarks further, though he attempts to cover them with an expression that is wholly sympathetic - though in the end, it may be genuine but it's not really hiding anything. "I understand," he says, just quietly. "Maybe it's selfish, but I don't know. Reckon it's realistic. No one wants to live in fear." Her suggestion seems to both relieve and please him - certainly, his smile is rather more real and unrestrained. "I'd like that," he says, offering Ali his arm. "Brieli'll probably think I'm a hypocrite, but I'm-- relieved, I think. Happier terms is a definite improvement."

Ali seems just as pleased to leave such grim thoughts behind. Stepping closer to K'del, she slips a hand into the crook of his arm, pausing briefly, curiosity in her voice for his comment, "A hypocrite? For what?" She doesn't linger overlong on the thought though- the music beckons them onwards towards the dance floor, after all.

Laughing, K'del's answer is a simple one, made as he escorts the Fortian goldrider towards the dance floor. "No doubt she'll consider my taking you for a dance exactly the same as her liaison with that bronzerider of yours. But no matter-- come on, this one's a good one." And dancing? That's much more interesting than the intricacies of inter-weyr relationships.

There's surprise in Ali's features for the answer, and perhaps a question on the Fortian's lips, but she's soon swept up in his enthusiasm for the current song. She hurries her steps to keep pace with him, abandoning her glass somewhere along the way as they head towards the dance floor.