Logs:Knots and Respect
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| RL Date: 5 August, 2013 |
| Who: Fayla, H'vier |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Fayla talks to her new Wingsecond as soon as he comes back from his punishment at Cold Butte. It goes somewhat better than expected. |
| Where: Fayla's Ledge |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions, Sisha/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, K'tan/Mentions, D'nis/Mentions |
| The long weeks of H'vier's punishment have finally come to an end, finally, and the Weyr awaits. Of course, so too does Fayla, whose Morinth has informed Reisoth that he and his are expected to drop by and see her before they do anything else, thank you very much. Their weyr is high up in the bowl, distantly above the sparkling lake, and both brown and rider are waiting on the ledge-- the rider in a wooden deck-chair she's set up. Fayla's roughly H'vier's age, a slender woman with short, spiky dark hair, physically the kind of person that some people dismiss as yet another dyke brownrider, whether or not she really is. For all that H'vier is, well, H'vier, Reisoth assures Morinth that he will bring his rider to Fayla as soon as they return. It's not a long wait, either, because the bronzerider is eager to return to the Weyr. Who wouldn't be after a month on Cold Butte? Okay... mostly a month. The bronze touches down on the brown's ledge to deposit his rider. But once H'vier is off and turning his attention to his new wingleader, Reisoth doesn't appear to be in any particular hurry to find himself somewhere less crowded to settle himself. "Fayla," H'vier greets the woman, eyeing her in her chair. "Or would you prefer I call you 'sir?'" There's another chair, and Fayla directs her nod towards it, evidently intending to encourage H'vier to sit. "I'm not Taikrin," she says, with that barely-there hint of amusement lurking in her tone. "Fayla's fine." She's had a few days to get over whatever initial reactions she had to this whole situation and yet, amusement aside, it's still obvious she's not terribly pleased. "So you're the Wingsecond I'm stuck with, huh? A big bad bronzerider who gets sent to Cold Butte for beating on a person until they're basically senseless. And don't think I don't know all about your feelings on the subject of Sisha." H'vier looks at the other chair but he doesn't move toward it immediately. There's a brief smirk at the mention of Taikrin but it's the beating thing he responds to. "If it's any consolation, I'm often on the wrong end of a fist," he probably doesn't have to point out his nose, but he does. It's mostly healed, just that ugly yellow-ish trace of fading bruises that his complexion helps hide. He does start moving toward the chair now, unhurried, "Sisha refused to make use of my strengths. And I'm not so bad as all that. You and I, here, we're already on better terms, though, aren't we?" "Should it be?" She must mean 'a consolation', but Fayla doesn't specify, and doesn't really seem to expect much of an answer. She draws one bare foot up onto the edge of her chair, wrapping her arm around that raised knee. "Are we? You've been forced on me, remember, and I'm not much thrilled with that. You're coming straight off punishment duty to a promotion, and I'm definitely not much thrilled with that. If you want respect, you're going to have to earn it. Frankly, my wing barely tolerates me, and I've flown with them for turns. You'll have to win them over, and especially D'nis." He whose wing it was... briefly. "So what are these supposed strengths of yours?" "It's not my fault that Z'ian chose Iceberg for me. I wanted my own wing. Or at least a wingleader with some balls." Literal balls, evidently. "I think our lovely Weyrleader thinks this is further punishment for me. I don't know what you did to piss him off. But I think it's only fair that we make the best of this situation that isn't ideal for either of us." H'vier sits, finally, after unfastening his jacket. "Supposed? I'm ambitious. Focused. I get what I want. Eventually. Reisoth is smart." Which is apparently not quite good enough of a word as far as the bronze, who rumbles from his spot on the ledge, is concerned. "Brilliant, he says. We both work hard. And the bastard actually enjoys sweeps." H'vier, not so much. But that's not the point. "With the right incentive, I can be whatever you want me to be, Fayla." "I got promoted by Taikrin, and didn't manage to make my wing love me in time," is Fayla's answer, but at least she doesn't sound bitter about it (or not much, anyway). She's giving H'vier an appraising glance. "And Z'ian, he wants to throw his weight around, show people he's in charge. Though if appointing Wingseconds for people is his way of leadership... that won't go down well. I wanted to pick my own. I even had someone in mind. I just should've been qui-- well, anyway. I suppose I should be glad you didn't get my knot. The shells do you think you are, demanding a wing like that?" H'vier must be crazy. And yet... "What's the right incentive, then?" She barely glances at Reisoth, though Morinth does, mantling his wings carefully about himself. "There's no reason you can't have two 'seconds," H'vier points out, helpfully. "Choose another. Choose five. I don't care. And I'm the man that will have Z'ian's knot one day. Don't think I won't remember who's who when I do." It's not a threat, it's not even directed at Fayla. But he probably thinks it's something that people ought to keep in mind, anyway. "Just treat me like I was one of your choices. Don't ask too many questions about what I do in my off time." He glances at her like he might have other things in mind, too, but he refrains from voicing them. For now. "Give us a chance." That's not so bad, right? Though Fayla's expressive brows knit at mention of Z'ian's knot, she bides her time in coming up with an answer to any of it. When she does speak, her words aren't a direct response to anything he's said - just bland statement. "You don't get anything for free, H'vier. You'll have to earn my respect, and that of my riders, too. I'm not denying things have been all cocked up... that's what happens when it's a hostile takeover, and I won't deny I tried to change things too much too fast. They're not going to like you, as much as they don't much like me at the moment. If I tell them you were my choice, they'll hate us both the worse. If you were forced on them, it's Z'ian they'll be annoyed with, and since you and I didn't get a choice? We have a chance to try and win them over. And since it's that or both of us losing our knots? We'll have to try. But you need to impress me, too." "Don't act like I don't know how things work just because I like to push my way around them. I don't expect you to like me. I don't expect your-- our wing to like me. But I have every intention of earning their respect, your respect." H'vier even manages to say that without sounding reluctant about needing a woman's respect in the first place. "I won't even object to you being a hardass on me if you think it will ease the way. I want to see this work, Fayla. I think that we can do it. And then I think we can shove it up Z'ian's ass." It's that last statement that has Fayla straightening... and then laughing, outright. "All right," she says, with a nod. "We'll get this a shot. In a month or two, maybe I'll appoint a second Wingsecond from within the Wing, but for now? It's you and me. You're not K'tan, so you've got something going for you. But... H'vier. If I catch you deliberately provoking fights while you're wearing my wing badge? I'll do worse than Sisha. Believe me, I'm much more creative." This would probably be a bad time for H'vier to try pointing out that the brownrider started it. So he doesn't. Instead he offers Fayla a grin as he draws himself back up to his feet. "Now don't go making me curious about how creative you can be. It might be tempting to see what you can think up." But he's just trying to show that he's capable of humor. Probably. "Am I free to go chase the spinners out of my weyr now?" "Is that a challenge?" counters Fayla, but she's grinning, too. "Go on, shoo. We've got drills tomorrow before lunch, and we'll get you into the sweep rotation after that. Let's... make this work." Which is a far sight more positive than she was to begin with! Which is... frankly impressive. Go H'vier! "Maybe you should start a list of things you'll do to me if I fuck up so I know what's waiting," he says as he turns to head for Reisoth. "I'll see you in the morning, Fayla." And then the bronze pair is off to wreak havoc elsewhere. But those spinners have it coming. Really.
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