Difference between revisions of "Logs:Scars"

Weyrleader Complex, High Reaches Weyr

Only about a man's height from the ground, this low ledge is wide and flat, reached by a set of timeworn steps that hug the cliff face. As the ledge stretches back away from the head of the stairs, it simultaneously broadens out over the bowl and tunnels into the mountain to become a sort of antechamber, from which a passageway winds back to the Weyrwoman's weyr, the council room, the records room and the hatching sands. A small round table is set in a shallow alcove here, surrounded by four chairs that provide a waiting area for those seeking one of the weyrleaders.

Another short flight of stairs leads upward from the tapering end of the ledge to the Weyrleader's quarters, while others lead to the further recessed junior queens' weyrs. While it's hard to get a good look at the lake from here, the view does encompass the majority of the bowl and the comings and goings across its span.

Finding Brieli isn't too hard most evenings, especially if one asks for directions from the lower caverns staff, or some of the Glacier riders on guard by the caverns - she tends to spend her evenings between the records room, the sands and her own weyr, and it's trudging between the snow between the three, hands deep in pockets, that the Weyrwoman can be found post-draconic intervention in gallery altercations. For what it's worth, the tall dark woman doesn't seem annoyed currently, merely tired; shoulders sloped slightly, pace not quite as brisk as it might be in the caverns or the main part of the bowl.

No matter where the Weyrwoman might be found, the shit has hit the fan in the Galleries, and the name of the flinger is Alida. Thusly charged with 'poo hurling,' the guard-cum-candidate can now be found seeking out the den of the vitriolic goldrider, nothing but some wariness and her own tiredness within the blonde's eyes, features. A clearing of her throat outside of the outermost hanging announces a presence, the sound then further clarified by a dusky alto, "Weyrwoman?"

It could be argued that, wherever the shit has hit the fan, the Weyrwoman can be found. Or vice versa. But that's beside the point, really. When she hears the tread of other feet, Brieli draws herself up to her full height automatically, hides any expression on her face behind a neutral mask. It's all very much an instinct, something a soldier might note as training... just no training anyone's ever heard of. At the voice, her head turns, her dark gaze hardens a touch, but the interruption is expected. "Yes, candidate." Polite. Calm.

She'll take that as an okay to enter, Alida soon enough pacing into the depths of the Weyrleader's complex and setting cautious, green eyes upon Brieli. She comes to a halt within about 8 feet of the darker woman, those astute green eyes measuring the goldrider's temper as carefully as possible while the candidate subtly stiffens her body into a soldier's crisply attentive, singular focus. "I apologize to you and your lifemate for unintentionally disrupting her in the Galleries, ma'am." The guard's tone is clear and measured, neither loud nor soft.

There's the briefest moment where she tilts her head, is slightly unfocused; then, with the faintest of smiles, "She accepts." Brieli doesn't beckon Alida any closer; in fact her hands stay in her pockets for the time being, regarding the young woman in return steadily. "As do I." Something has the goldrider thoughtful, considering the candidate-slash-guard for a time, perhaps along with her words, because, "Anger can be productive. But only if you channel it." There's a pause, and almost impulsively, she pulls a hand from her pocket, takes a swift few steps that has her frame seem less slight and more wiry. It's only close enough for Alida to see, when she opens her hand, the faint scars on the heels of her palm, faint light crescents, the size and shape of fingernails. "Don't throw away your plans because people get to you. Patience." Then her hand is gone, back into her pocket as she backs away again, serious.

What? Not only the dragon, but her human accept? Alida clearly wasn't ready for that answer - especially the lack of vitriol from Brieli - and as such, the candidate finds herself in a bit of a surprised whirl of emotions, the flurry of such seen clearly for a just a moment in those often cold green eyes. Quickly enough, such inner turmoil is replaced by a look that might be seen much more often on humans about 20 Turns older, the younger femme's gaze now showing a tempered and cautious wariness, skepticism, though her face holds to its poker status. A small tic upwards of one arching, white-gold brow presages a faint start from the guard at Brieli's impulsive handpull and swift steps, but 'lida doesn't go for her knife, nor does she take up a defensive stance. Kudos for self-control. She *does*, however, flick her gaze down from dark eyes to those telltale scars that dust the goldrider's palms, studying them in detail until her gaze lifts once more, sealing greens directly to browns. "I understand..." is murmured in such a fashion as to perhaps oddly assure the other woman that yes, Alida has been subjected to self-discipline in her shorter span of life. "Thank you, and especially Iesaryth, for your wisdom and tolerance." A sudden inhale and re-straightening of back heralds a more militaristic, crisp, "I will accept whatever fair punishment the Weyrwoman wants to bestow." Notice how those greens are now locked to the air between them, not to Brieli's eyes, anymore.

For the surprise, "I would assume that the Weyrleader has had enough words with you for the evening. I am not generally one to waste them, so I won't repeat anything she's said." Brieli's tone is now brisk and business-like as she returns to her previous spot, seeming likewise comfortable with distance on multiple levels. The skepticism in Alida's gaze doesn't seem to surprise her, nor does her understanding. With another faint smile for the thanks, ghosting wider at the last, she straightens a little herself, even as she considers the candidate's request for punishment. "Until we can see that you can appropriately redirect some of your... energy, we'll have you on extra shoveling detail. There's enough snow... and it's not something you need a partner for." So at least Alida won't have to deal with someone else? "Report to the Headwoman and tell her to add you to the rotation. We'll see how you're doing after a couple sevens. Thank you, candidate. You're dismissed." Because she likely expects it, to make it official.

This is just so strange for the guard! She too is more at ease with the distance between them, Alida simply staring off into space, remaining at attention before Brieli as the goldrider speaks plainly. Ah, and then it comes - the part about punishment detail, something that the Pars femme is all too used to - the stony-faced blonde nodding firmly, and responding crisply, unemotionally, "Yes ma'am!" Wait-what? Another 'thank you?' What the fuck? It must be that Brieli is trying to put her off-balance, decides the guard, and so Alida decides to not allow such a reaction to show, the femme simply lifting her left hand and snapping a picture-perfect salute to Brieli. A pivot about on a boot heel, and off she double-times it out of the complex, the first thing on her list of things to do being to talk to the Headwoman...and then get a cup of klah she can ponder over for a few minutes.

Comments

Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 01 Mar 2013 09:08:46 GMT.

< Quick and painless for both parties! Except for snow shoveling. Bleeeh.