Logs:Devil's in the Deal
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| RL Date: 11 August, 2011 |
| Who: Rhaelyn, Taikrin |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Taikrin decides that the prudent thing to do is to buy Rhaelyn's silence. It's isn't cheap. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr 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. --- It is a summer afternoon, 19:42 of day 19, month 6, turn 26 of Interval 10. Later into the evening is a good time to stake out a place in the Records Room. So it's no wonder that Rhaelyn is there, picking along the shelves. In her hand is a strip of hide and she keeps looking at it and the rows of scrolls to try to locate...something in particular. Someone must have told someone who must have told someone-- because there's no other excuse for why Taikrin might be making a beeline into the records room. She's clearly just back in from sweeps: her riding goggles are still propped on her forehead, and she's got pink cheeks from a combination of sun- and wind-burn. Once within the doorway, the brownrider hesitates only long enough to orient herself before stalking towards Rhaelyn with her face a mask of determination. Without so much as a how-do-you-do, she an arm against the bookshelf right in Rhaelyn's path and demands, "What do you want?" The sound of someone coming makes Rhae tuck the leaf of paper into her shirt front and with her other hand, pull out a scroll. Or, maybe this is the one she was looking for all along. With the scroll held carefully between her hands she turns to see who's coming. Taikrin is likely the last person she expects to find lookig back at her. A blink responds to the question and then a confused smile. "I'm....sorry.....?" the question dangling at the very end while she takes in the fresh-from-work appearance of the brownrider. "What. Do. You. Want." Taikrin repeats herself, slowly, with clear enunciation on each syllable. "I ain't stupid, I know you been checkin' up on me. And with what you said the other day--" Her face is still a deceptively still mask, voice controlled, but her dark eyes are snapping. "-- I figure you must want something. So. What is it?" Rhaelyn frowns at the way the question is answered rather than what is being asked of her. She doesn't look away though, squinting slightly at Taikrin, "What I want -clearly- doesn't matter. And you can't take back the insults you've given to me." Her head tips slowly to one side and she can't help but remind the brownrider, "Your sweetheart surely will understand. You're not the same person now as you were...before you impressed." Taikrin's expression darkens perceptably, despite her best efforts to remain passively neutral. "I'm givin' you a chance. You ain't like to get another. I can be reasonable." Because she sure looks reasonable. "You just leave Riorde out of this. If you took some insult--" she shrugs, idly, lips twitching. "In the past. You and me, we're talkin' today. Future, even. So, last chance-- what are you after?" The darkness is noticed, but she doesn't appear to appreciate what it might mean. "I want you off my back. I want you to stop back-biting me like a nest of crawlies." SHe squirms her shoulders in some awful memory of the nipping, itching little buggers. "You keep snarking at me, and I'll keep...digging." Who knows how deep the rabbit hole will go. "Not like -I- have anything to lose. I'm at the bottom of this crab pot and I have to climb my way up somehow." "I didn't give two craps until you started pokin' your little nose where it don't belong," Taikrin retorts swiftly. "I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you. I want you to leave me alone, and leave Riorde alone, and leave the hatchlings alone." Her lips twist up into an unkind smile. "I expect in return I can find my way towards ignoring you." Rhaelyn snorts, "That's -bull-shit-." Rhaelyn says as she straightens up her shoulders, "You started in on me the first time I tried to be nice to you. YOu called me a whore. Guess that's what you think of girls who are friendly, but I didn't take too kind of it. -That- is what started this. You. Did. It." She gives a little sniff, "Riorde is one of Us. An Islander! I'm not just going to turn my back on her. She's a friend." More friend than anyone else mainlander at least, if that can be used as a measurement. There's a little scowl about leaving the hatchlings alone, "You've done your deal-making to keep me off the sands." Though from the nasty smile, it doesn't mean it'll stop her from meddling. "Don't you want me to be...intergraded into weyr society?" "I did /not/-- wait. What?" From hot denial to confusion; Taikrin's brow knits as she tries to pull up the recollection, and apparently fails. "I don't even know what you're talkin' about. You tellin' me you're goin' on and on and you got me confused with someone else?" She lets out a bark of laughter, softened only due to proximity to the Weyrleaders' weyrs. "Funny way you got of treating your friends; keepin' the /both/ of you off the sands, ain't that right? I don't care /what/ you do; go back to the island, go to the Hold, it's all the same to me. I ain't the Weyrleader with his 'gotta control everything' kick." "You know very well it was you." Rhaelyn's eyes are hard little picks of ice, not wavering. Not forgetting either. "You were drunk off your ass." Not prone to accept that people are forgetful when they have been drinking. The domino's have already fallen. "Us not standing is your fault too. Because I was telling Ri about you and she hit me. And She knocked me into that egg. So, fuck you. You're not going to believe me, you're going to side with her. But I'm the one who got the broken nose didn't I? But it's because of you that she's in that mess." In the strange long-way-around. "Was I?" Taikrin is actually bemused by this fact; it's temporarily sidelined the building aggression, and though she folds her arms across her chest, she's also leaning casually against the bookcase. "Drunk people say all kinds'a stuff, darlin'. Ain't you learned that by now? I reckon I didn't even know you from Faranth, 'cause I sure don't remember meetin' you and bein' drunk at the same time." She's even not upset about the egg stuff. "You wanna fight, it's on your own head. Learn not to piss off people who're stronger'n you, yeah?" She arches an eyebrow; she, herself, is a demonstration of this. "Riorde's a big girl, it'll work itself out. She can take care of herself." "Well, you don't remember me from that time,...why is it that you came at me like a shark with blood in the water?" Does Pern even have sharks? Maybe those big nasty fish from the island. Something like that. Rhaelyn asks it with a tight, even tone, tapping the scroll of hide against her shoulder. "Guess if Riorde can take care of herself, you don't need to worry about what -I- do around her. You warn her off those eggs? Because she's the one dangerous enough to go throwing people into eggs with no care for them." She shrugs up her shoulders though, she already knows what the blind spot is. With a sniff she moves to brush past the brownrider. "So, you want me to stop ... digging. Stop talking about your past? What's it worth to you?" "I don't remember callin' you nothin', but I /do/ remember you jumped on me for some crazy reason some time. I /know/ that was you." As Rhaelyn moves past, Taikrin turns to keep her in sight but doesn't move to follow. A corner of her lips twists upwards in sarconic amusement. "Wait, wait. Lemme get this straight. You got a hardon for digging into my life because /some drunk person said somethin' mean to you? Faranth, it's a wonder you got any life left at all. You always this obsessive, or'm I just lucky?" Her eyes roll skywards, briefly, before she continues. "I don't care if you dig yourself to Benden. I want you to stop spreadin' old news around. It won't do nobody any good. Bad for the health, you know. Reckon I can see my way clear to pretendin' we never met, in any case." Rhaelyn lifts up her shoulders, "You might want to think about how your actions have an effect on other people. Just because you're numb to things, doesn't mean other people...are not." She looks back at Taikrin, silent in the wake of her blowing off her reasoning and the sarcasm. In fact she notes quietly, "Just because you want to pretend you haven't been going out of your way to rub my nose every chance you get, doesn't mean it's not true." The 'deal' doesn't seem as interesting now, "Bad for the health? Really?" Dry and rather doubtful. "Yeah, whatever." Taikrin blows off all of Rhaelyn's fine logic and reasoning with a wave of her hand. "Past's the past, like we say. And-- it is, you know. Bad for the health t'be clingin' to the past." There's still a smile playing around her mouth. "Why, you got somethin' you want better? You seem like a girl who always has her eye on somethin' or other." There's a keen roll of eyes, skyward and then around in a loopy-loop as she looks away with an airy little sigh. "Whatever...." Not like Rha's out much for trying to reason it through right? Not being one for much smiling, Rhae just watches Taikrin and that steady grin of hers, "Lets see, what are my options here? Got my eyes on a lot of things. Can't -have- any of them." She's not saying what she'd want, clearly saying with an up and down look that she doesn't trust the brownrider if she did play her hand. Taikrin unfolds her arms to spread her hands wide, in a gesture of mock helplessness. "Hey, you're the one wheelin' and dealin' here. I don't know what you want, except for probably not to get your nose busted open again." She turns on the charm, all of a sudden, posture easing and her smile turning a little less threatening. "Sure we can work somethin' out. Must be hard, not havin' somethin' of your own. Always borrowin'." There might be a...moment of sniffing that something doesn't quite ring true in what Taikrin is suggestion, like the sound of a trap opening. "I'm not afraid of that." Being hit? Getting beaten down? Something along those lines. The hide keeps bouncing off her shoulder but she shifts to the other shoulder after a time. "You're right about that. Second hand...worse. No -nice- things. Like Ylynna." Her eyes that had been relaxing tighten up, more from the sudden grasp of her greedy little heart. "I reckon Ylynna does have some nice things," Taikrin commiserates, all considerate sincerity. "Bein' a Holder's girl or whatever she is comes with a lot of nice stuff. Nice clothes, pretty jewelry. Must be tough. Girl like you, reckon you like to have pretty things, yeah?" She bumps the back of her head gently against the bookcase, as if that could jar a thought loose. "Maybe a nice dress to wear, to get the attention of a nice holder boy?" The reminder that Ylynna has all the things she herself does not, makes Rhaelyn's lips tighten. "Yeah." She says in a quiet little sigh and an added upward swing of her shoulders. "I would love a nice dress, but since we are forbidden to go to gathers now..." The shake of her head says no, but she's still hearing that cha-ching somewhere in the echoes of that heart of hers. "What do you know about runners?" It may seem a complete deviation from the conversation they were having. Taikrin nods along, all gentle encouragement, for this talk of dresses, and is even nodding along before she can figure out-- wait. "Runners?" Her expression falters as she tries desperately to keep up. "Uh. I know Szadath thinks they taste a little funky, when he gets to eat 'em? And, uh, I suppose people ride 'em but I ain't never been near one if I can help it." The answer makes Rhae sneer a little, "Guess they can't be much different than heardbeasts." She's still new at all this too. "I heard that...some holds race them. They get good, fast ones and people bet..." A pause and Rhae shakes her head, "Nevermind. It's a silly idea if you don't know anything about them." Blind leading the blind and she can't even get out of the weyr. "Meat animals are meat animals," Taikrin agrees, as if she's the one doing all the eating. "Yeah, I guess the bigger holds do gamblin' on 'em. Seems a little silly to me, bettin' on somethin' you can't control." But now the brownrider's interest is piqued, and she follows up with, "What do /you/ know about runners? Don't recall seein' anything like that on your island." "You bet on those eggs." Maybe not Taikrin in particular but 'weyrfolk', "Up one side and down the other. HOw many are gong to clutch, when they're going to, how many. And then, when they'll hatch, how long the hatching will be, who's going to get a dragon..." Rhaelyn shrugs up her shoulders, "Seems....Bar' had a better plan with this runner-deal. At least you have some control over pick'n them and training them and...you get a cut of the..." She breaks off and scowls at herself, amending, "Bar is teaching me to ride. Borrowed runners like all the other second-hand stuff though. They are new to Us." Islanders. "Yeah, but that's different. It's-- a Weyr thing. Everyone's gotta do it. Besides, the dragons help. Szad's pretty sure there's not gonna be a lot of girls." Gambling is, after all, one of Taikrin's favorite activities; she's put a lot of thought into this. "Bar's one of those beastcrafters or whatever? Eh, go figure. Riding runners seems kinda strange, in a Weyr, when we got dragons to take you wherever you need to go." She pauses, eyes Rhaelyn's scowl, then shrugs good-naturedly. "Well, maybe not /every/one." "Bar', yeah beastcrafter." Something else too but Rhae doesn't touch on his life history. "What do you mean, not a lot of girls? There are mostly girl candidates." Not necessarily true but rather a point of view. "Right...not everyone." She smooths a hand down her second-rate tunic and looks down at herself before returning to eye Taikrin now that she's truly side-tracked the whole conversation with her fancy about runners. "So...dresses. And hair clips...and...and a new pair of boots." "Not girl /candidates/. Girl dragons. He don't think there's a lot of girls. Well, except for that gold." Her lips twist, wryly: a rare flash of real emotion. "Somethin' I'd take his word on; Szad really likes the greens." All greens. But now they're back to business, and she sets to bargaining without ever seeming to actually negotiate. "Girls ought to have a pretty outfit, for goin' to the gather. Reckon it's too late for the hatching feast, but there'll be other parties." Her head tilts, slightly, as she looks Rhaelyn up and down. "I know a person." "That's a strange wager. Not many girl dragons. What does that mean? One gold...one green?" Rhaelyn's keen attention picks out that emotion while her own simmers somewhere within. A blink at the acceptance of her desires and gives her head a nod. "Might even get a chance to wear them out." Dress for success right? "And there's a footpress that woodsmith has been taunting me with...." Yeah, because sticking it to /him/ would be perfect too! "A clutch is usually about half greens, so-- less." Taikrin's not really fixed on that anymore. "I don't know no woodsmiths, and nothin' about presses. We're talkin' pretty things to wear out." Apparently she has a line, even if she's not willing to state it flat out. "Pretty dresses for a pretty girl who knows how to keep her pretty mouth shut, right?" Rhaelyn's head tips to one side, acceptance of the deal that is being sketched out. Her mouth does hitch to one side in a little smile though, "Right. I should be so busy looking in the mirror, with how pretty the dresses are, that I won't have time for anything else." Her shoulder lifts and falls, "And I won't have to keep guarding my heels.....right?" "I got no use for pretty girls in dresses. Ain't my type." As should be readily apparent, giving the company Taikrin keeps. "After the hatching; weavers are all working themselves silly makin' crap for people to wear. I'll find you." "Yeah. Ok." Rhaelyn states when Taikrin states her preference, at least in the form of what she doesn't like. She takes a step back, but most likely because she's getting ready to make her departure. The scroll is left on a table, not ever being unrolled for viewing. "Sure. After the hatching." Disbelief lurks in that look she casts to the brownrider but she has nothing but time to see what materializes. "Night then." |
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