Logs:Intervention
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Cadejoth, K'zin, Rasavyth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'zin's Bad Boy Bronzer behavior gets his wingsecond/faux-pa's attention. K'del intervenes. |
| Where: Rider Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: F'manis/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Zakari/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Rider Lounge, High Reaches Weyr About as high up the bowl wall as it is possible to get before hitting clear sky, right up against the rim, this ledge is tiny, narrow and not terribly inviting. Though angled towards the sun, there's not enough room to properly stretch out, and that same angle ensures it receives the worst of bad weather, with no shelter whatsoever. From above, there's not even an obvious passage inside, as if this particular ledge is, in the end, nothing more than a natural outcropping. It's only from atop the ledge itself that the cleverly concealed entrance becomes clear, angled into the stone as it is. Inside, there's a cavernous space, more than making up for the stinginess of the ledge. There's one large main room, and a much smaller back room that could probably be used as a bedroom - if this weyr were in traditional usage. Instead, the main cavern is largely filled with a collection of mismatched tables and chairs, with a trolley at the far end that contains a prodigious amount of liquor. Old, but still impressive, hangings cover the walls, all depicting scenes of High Reaches in glory. The back room has been turned into a storage area, with several cases of whisky and a variety of other spirits ready and waiting. A strange pipe contraption comes through the ceiling and towards the stone floor, where a large bucket sits beneath it. A lever turns on water from the pipe: fresh rain or snow, ready for drinking.
K'zin doesn't complain. Ever. At least in drills, or at wing functions. His performance hasn't been stellar in recent sevens, but he doesn't show up drunk (hungover's a different story), doesn't pick fights (but has bruises to say he's been in them), and checks his personal business at the door. Still, what he does in his off hours has gotten around. It's hard not to when he's doing so much of the drinking and bedding of women (notably none in Taiga) in the Weyr. Today must've hurt, starting out. He was hungover, squinty behind his goggles, but Rasavyth's competence kept them from sticking out too sorely. « We come. » The bronze's tenor is affable as usual, affecting a clink of ooze-covered chains for his wingsecond. And after one check over on a buckle that was giving them trouble, the bronze pair is on their way to the lounge. Cadejoth hasn't lingered on either the ledge or the rim above - he's already winging his way up and up and up, into the rainy skies, quite unbothered by the weather. Inside, K'del's making klah, two mugs set out on one of the tables in front of the hearth, his back turned so that he can't see K'zin come in - though he'll certainly probably hear him. K'zin's arrival isn't quiet. There's the stopping to remove wet jacket, helmet, goggles, and gloves, hanging them on the appropriate hooks, he's even wiped his boots on the mats placed for the gross winter weather. He even has to hesitate on those mats in contemplation. Perhaps something similar will soon feature at the entrance of his weyr. His fingers are brushing through his shaggy locks and without the goggles the fresh black-eye is obvious. It's the other eye this time, though, so at least he's evening things out. It's ugly, but no longer swollen shut, even if he is still squinting a little. "Wingsecond," His tone is questioning as he makes the greeting. The question is most likely if this is a wing matter or a more personal one, "You wanted to see me?" "You look like shit." It's notable that - despite the range of alcoholic beverages available in the lounge - K'del is avoiding all of them. This will be straight klah, no spiking. The Wingsecond turns his head to look at K'zin as he makes that remark, then waves an arm towards the nearest table, where two chairs have been pulled up. "Want to tell me what's going on?" The softness of the older bronzerider's voice makes it pretty clear: this is personal, at least for the moment. This is a man showing concern for another man he cares about. "You want to know what's going on?" The question pops from K'zin without hesitation or thought and with genuine surprise, his brows drawing up, which causes his squinty eye to try to close in protests of the stretch. He subsequently blinks a bit before continuing toward the hearth before detouring to one of the nearest chairs. The question posed doesn't really need an answer beyond the fact that K'del asked, so K'zin answers with a sigh, "Girl trouble, mostly. Family trouble, some. Dragon trouble, always." Leaning back in the chair, the young man looks tired. Tired enough that, at least for the moment, he seems to have too many turns for the not yet twenty he can actually claim. K'del bites back the obvious 'of course I want to know what's going on', and settles, instead, to listen. "Anything," he says, after a moment of silence, "I can do to help? Even just a listening ear? You look--" It's already been covered that he looks like shit, and so the bronzerider goes with something different: "Exhausted. Maybe I should be making you hot milk instead of klah, and find you some blankets so you can just curl up here and sleep." "Maybe," K'zin manages a slight smile. "I am sort of, exhausted that is. I'm sleeping a lot, but it's not restful. Mind's too busy with things." Things that, if his expression is anything to go by, worry him. "The girl stuff is straightforward enough but mangled up in the dragon stuff. Remember when I asked you about sleeping with a girl for the first time? Well, Tela and I have been sleeping together since, except for a bit where we weren't," He doesn't go into why. "And I started to like... I don't know. I guess... feel things for her. And Rasavyth doesn't like it. And actively goes out of his way to make things difficult. I don't really want to become monogamous or anything, but I guess he's worried since I sort of stopped going after other girls for the last while, and-- he's a jerk." That's the bottomline. "Family... That's more complicated." His eyes go past the older bronzerider to the fire in the hearth. "My father's sick." This is an awful lot to throw at K'del right at once... and it's entirely possible he doesn't get much further than 'Tela' before losing track of it all. His reaction to that is definitely surprise-- surprise he doesn't even begin to be able to hide. "Wait, wait, wait-- you and Tela?" "Uh." K'zin's cheeks are suddenly rosy and he ducks his head a little, "Yeah. Since the first time. Except for... well, it's not important why. Just that there was a time. We're not, like, exclusive or anything. Never have been. Don't want to be, really, only now it's complicated because there are feelings, and feelings are... ugh." His chin lifts up, lower lip jutting out unhappily. "You know?" "Feelings," agrees K'del, recovering some of his equilibrium, "are always hard. Complicated things, feelings. Even when you're not wanting to be exclusive. Sometimes especially then, I don't know." He stops, letting his teeth rest heavily upon his lower lip, chewing at it cautiously. Then: "Okay, so things are complicated there. And with Rasavyth. And... you said your father was sick?" "Oh." He doesn't know. "Well. Let's say Ras'd prefer I sew my wild seed wherever and whenever there's a cause to do it. I think there's only been a handful of partners he's flatly refused I have. And Madilla's mad because she thinks I'm letting him control me, only, she doesn't know what it's like to live with someone inside your head. If your lifemate really doesn't want something, it's a really rough thing to try to go against." He points out. Maybe K'del will understand this better. He glances hopefully to the older man before nodding once to each point of K'del's recap in confirmation. "My oldest brother came to tell me. My father didn't want him to come, but Zak... he's always had his own sense of what's right and what's not. Still not really acknowledging I'm alive and all, out of deference to our father, but came to tell me he's ill and the healers aren't hopeful so I ought to go see him if I want to before he bites it." He probably chooses that phrase as the least emotional way he can think to say his father's probably dying. He frowns, shifting so he can lean his arms on his knees, directing his stare down at the floor. The boiling water interrupts anything K'del might have immediately intended to say: he looks torn, even frustrated, and then bites it back in order to deal with the water, and the klah it is being made into. Quietly, "Mm. It is hard going against what they want. Always. But... it's a partnership. You have to work out how to make that work... which isn't to say that I am judging your relationship with Rasavyth, or implying I know better, mind. Every relationship is different; you have to work out for yourself." Sympathy, though? He's got sympathy. "Do you want to go and see your father?" "Yeah. Working it out. That's the hard part. Especially when people don't understand it's something I have to do for myself and the only wrong way to do it is to do it in a way that doesn't work for me. I'm the only one who has to share headspace with him forever." Lucky K'zin. He shifts so he's flopped back in the chair again, slouching deeply now. "I don't know what I want. Zak was mad that I didn't rush off right away. But my father's the one who cut me out of his life. And-" The bronzerider stops, his face stony, but another crier could notice the threat of tears that's made him stop short. K'del slides a mug of the klah, heavy on the sweetener and cream, across the table towards K'zin, though he gives the bronzerider a long moment before turning his attention more directly towards him: he knows those signs. Of course he does. "And it hurts," he concludes, quietly, staring into the depths of his own mug. "And you know you'll regret it if you don't talk to him, but... imagine it feels like giving in, when he should be the one to reach out." He lets a question hang in there - he is, after all, only guessing in all of this. K'zin leans forward to pull the mug the rest of the way too him, but the motion stops as K'del speaks more. There's no nodding or shaking of his head to give hints along the way of how close the older bronzerider is getting to the truth of things. Slowly, slowly, he eases the rest of the way back, looking at K'del in silence, the threat of tears momentarily assuaged. "Are we talking about my father or my dragon?" He asks. It's a little rhetoric, but mostly not. Apparently, the two situations are that similar in enough ways. "Which would you rather?" wonders K'del, after a moment, not smiling, not showing any indications of smiling, though there's something wry about his tone. His fingers tighten about the handle of his mug, though he makes no move to bring it towards his mouth. "Father." The answer comes immediately from the young man. "He's miles away." Not in K'zin's head, where presumably, there are consequences for the bronzerider sharing personal details of their relationship. Rasavyth, surely, finds it inconvenient that K'zin's relationship with K'del is real, whereas his with Cadejoth and K'del... well. "He should be the one to reach out." K'zin's fingers grip the mug tightly and the pull is sharp, sloshing the hot stuff across his hand, causing a release and shake in the air with muttered curse. Something about Faranth's fine feet and fancy fingernails. K'del's answer, the one he was likely already preparing, is put aside immediately: "Shells, are you all right? Let me--" He rises, but doesn't go anywhere, torn between staring at K'zin's hand and tensing, ready to go for something. "I'm fine, I'm fine," K'zin assures as that hand shakes, flinging a few drops of klah off. Hard to tell with the movement, though the hand is pinkened, it doesn't look like a substantial burn. "I'm always fine. I always have to be fine. Because I'm always wrong to be messed up about things. And sometimes I'm wrong to be trying to keep things from being messed up. Why is everything so sharding messy?" The klah-slop on the table-top (not that there's much) included. The younger man stares at it for a moment before pushing to his feet with a sigh, glancing to where the rags are usually kept with intention, but no movement of his feet yet. K'del takes the lead, launching himself for the rags before K'zin actually gets the chance. "Because," he says, as he goes, and as he comes back, too, "that's the way life works. Life's messy. We screw up. People around us screw up. Sometimes things are just naturally screwed up, and there's nothing anyone can do about it." He cleans up the spill himself, diligently. "Well." Beat. "That's screwed up." It's moments like this that Rasavyth will point to when he needs evidence that he's the smarter of the two; not that he usually needs evidence. K'zin's declaration might be meant to be funny, but it falls flat. "Thanks." He nods to the spill. "So. It's messy. It's really messy. None of it's easy. What should I do?" He's not asking facetiously, but genuinely. He's looking to K'del as his elder, his mentor, his faux-dad for real wisdom. K'del smiles - sort of - anyway, though it doesn't last. K'zin's question has him sighing, instead, before he drops the rag off to one side of the table and sits down again. "Wish the shell I knew," he admits, ruefully, though he follows it up promptly with: "Well. Far as your dad's concerned, guess the question becomes: do you want to try and patch things up with him, before he's gone? Knowing that this is probably your last chance. And," he adds, "you don't have to tell me the answer, not that I'll judge you either way. Can you find other girls to sleep with so Rasavyth doesn't think you're pining after Telavi as your one and only?" K'zin doesn't try to answer the matter of his father aloud. The question K'del verbalizes is likely one he's been struggling with privately. "Girls..." This is an easier question to ruminate on out loud, "He's not worried about the physical act so much as the feelings. I mean, Tela's not-- the settle down type. And neither am I. But there are feelings. And that's what he doesn't like. They don't just go away because I'm between someone else's thighs." He slides back into his seat, picking up the remainder of his klah to sip at it. He's silent as he sips, letting the silence become comfortable. "I'm going to do better." He finally says, and there's resolve there. They're not the last words spoken between mentee and mentor, because 'better' is a broad term. 'Better' can mean a lot of things. But between the two of them and a second cup of klah (especially since K'zin's first was less than full), they define it, or at least some part of it. K'zin will put his extra energy where it can be useful; where it can be used selflessly, not selfishly. K'zin will go to Nabol. |
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