Logs:Everything Sucks
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| RL Date: 23 February, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del drops in to see how H'kon is doing. They're depressing together. |
| Where: Deliciously Shadowed Nooks and Crannies Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Deliciously Shadowed Nooks and Crannies Weyr, High Reaches Weyr The entrance to the weyr is straight and narrow, a dragon couch taking up most of the space there. Once past the couch, the room opens up incredibly to reveal a truly odd bit of artistry. This part of the weyr is a nearly perfect circle and actually quite small. The cathedral ceiling is domed and appears twice as high as the ones found in most rooms at High Reaches. The unusual stonecutter that designed this weyr certainly had his own sense of style. A gigantic glow basket has been hung in the center of the doomed ceiling, though the light it spreads downward are like gloomy fingers grasping from above. A rope runs from the basket through a series of loops along the side of the wall, tied off where it can be easily reached to lower the glows for changing. The dim light of the weyr washes over the walls, revealing tiny glints and sparkles here and there. All over the wall of the cavern from about five feet off the ground to about twelve feet overhead, hewn nooks have been left. The lower ones contain odd bits, mostly hides filed away in accordance to some system known by the weyr's inhabitant, some pens, some small trinkets, a bottle or two of good whisky. The higher nooks are more eye-catching, each containing a glass bottle or dish of some sort which causes the eerie glittering. What little floor space there is is taken up by carefully placed furniture. A loft frame, once a bed, now serves as storage space for several trunks and few dishes, the mattress laid out on simple wooden risers below. Opposite the bed, a small, round table sits surrounded by three chairs - one small, two large, all without cushioning and armless. Kept to the side is a folding wooden stepladder, rungs smoothed and lightened by regular use. It's been a couple of days since the successful Boreal takeover, and a day or so less since Brieli's offer, and through the heavy fog that has been lingering all morning, Cadejoth's chains emerge with a shudder and a clank. « Incoming, » can scarcely be considered a warning, when the bony bronze is landing upon the ledge only a few moments later, as graceless as he has ever been. "H'kon?" asks K'del, dismounting, and heading for the weyr's entrance. "Am I interrupting anything?" This is a day when Arekoth has not forsaken H'kon for the sands, and so he clears out of Cadejoth's way as that bronze lands. « Cadejoth, » isn't without some of a similar pressure of authority. The brown hasn't forgotten his glorious victory, no, not yet. Within the weyr, "Ah - no." From the man hunched over his dragon's straps, but with his head turned to the entrance, and an awl held still in his hand. « Arekoth. » returns Cadejoth, and if he isn't acknowledging the brown as his leader, at least there's some indication of respect: he hasn't forgotten, either, and it was glorious. « I won't take up your space! » Nor does he: he's off again a moment later, disappearing into the fog somewhere up towards the spires. K'del runs his fingers through his hair as he steps into H'kon's weyr, carefully scraping his boots off. "Came to see how things were going. Won't interrupt your work for long, promise." H'kon looks from K'del, to his boots, and back to K'del. "I would have thought 'how things are going' might be better established out there." H'kon jabs the awl in the direction of the ledge, the sky beyond it. The outside world, as if he's been in it for more than meeting with some wingleaders and participating in Avalanceh's drills. And sometimes eating. Anyway, the awl doesn't stay pointed; it's soon gesturing toward those chairs he's started acquiring. K'del clarifies, moving to sink himself into one of the larger chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him, "With you. Pretty sure I've a decent read on the Weyr. Need to spread the Boreal story a bit more publicly, make sure everyone knows what actually happened - why we all stepped in." His hands rest upon his knees, his eyes watching the brownrider steadily. "Ah," comes with one of those brownrider nods of his. "Those who have questioned me, I have told." H'kon has drawn that awl back toward himself, considering it, now, in lieu of the bronzerider stretched out there. His mouth pulls out and down, and he nods. "If I call for wingleaders, there are only so many will come." All stated flatly. He rotates the awl, keeps up his inspection. K'del winces, but there's no sign in his expression that he finds that piece of information unexpected. "Things've gotten worse," he agrees, equally flatly. His mouth opens, like there's something else he wants to say, or perhaps, worse, admit to. "Can I help? I mean, with anything specific." It's not what he intended to say, that much is obvious. "There cannot be two weyrleaders," H'kon sums up, and that awl is let fall to the table, avoiding the leather there, and instead, clattering. There's little enough of soft things in the weyr that it makes an almost hollow sound. "Least of all when there are none." The twist of frustration that pulls at his eyebrows doesn't manage its way into his voice. "I do not see what is to be done for the main problem. I doubt that this last specific will leave them all sorted until one of the golds rises again. And even then." "No," allows K'del, and his shoulders sink as he says it; he looks tired, and the glance he's aiming at H'kon, now, is sympathetic. Because if he's tired? How much worse can it be for the brownrider? "And even then, who can say. If Hraedhyth rises first, will Brieli really accede to Azaylia's leadership? No. She won't. She wants it, at any cost. She's already trying to take it." He blows out a breath. "One day, you really will get to go back to being just a wingrider again. And we will have Weyrleaders again." That dull fatigue on H'kon's face matches his expression. Neither of them much change when he looks back at K'del, even if he does, somewhere, notice any hint of support that might go beyond the political. "Then I imagine she will succeed. It is clear that Azaylia does not want it." It's the idea of a return to wingriding that brings a frown. "Indeed," is neither hopeful, not particularly content. The awl is recovered, for the sake of having it in his hand. K'del shuts his eyes, leaning back in his chair so that he can tilt his head towards the ceiling, a position that can hardly be comfortable. "And so, here we are. One weyrwoman I cannot trust, and one who isn't ready, though I know she will be, one day. Do you wish you could just walk away, H'kon? Wish that you weren't so bound by duty? Not that it matters. Thought the Boreal thing was a success - a clear win. Something everyone could be happy with. But no." "Nor willing," H'kon says, flatly. That frown smoothes with K'del's more personal question, and H'kon sets to pressing at the tip of the awl, just gently, with his thumb. "Tell me of the discontent you've heard," is at least a reasonable thing to pursue further. K'del, the optimist, "She's just unsure of herself. She'll get there." His eyes open again, his gaze returning to the brownrider, watching that awl. "Mostly Glacier and Snowdrift riders. And Hailstorm. The ones who're pro-Taikrin. They seem to think you overstepped yourself, nevermind what Taikrin's done, giving herself a Wing. Or they think I did it, pushed you into it." Arekoth's hiss of disagreement to that last can be heard, for all he's on the ledge rather than in his couch proper. H'kon turns his attention from the now-dinted callus on his thumb, back to K'del, face once again gone dull. "In the end, it matters little. Something had to be done, and with authority. With two goldriders, one of whom sets herself before her Weyr consciously, and another who does so unconsciously, there was the need of strength from somewhere. Bronzes have it. At any rate, it is done. One way or another... it matters little." K'del's head turns, glancing in the direction of the ledge. In a different situation, he might smile; right now, he can only twist his mouth ruefully. "You did the right thing," he says. "It was a win for you, whether or not everyone acknowledges it. I want you to know that. Though... you do know, I'm sure." He rubs at his temple, glancing at H'kon. "Brieli tried to offer me Weyrleader. Make herself officially Acting Weyrwoman, with me to support her. Maybe accepting it would've been the right thing, I don't know. But I don't trust her enough to be the one who puts her there. Especially not underhanded, like that. Her motivations-- well. It's done now. Doubt she'll try a second time." He looks like he might have regrets, or as though he half-expects recrimination. This, "Indeed," is very much like the last. He pokes his thumb a bit harder onto the awl, though still not so hard as to draw blood. Talk of Brieli, that too will earn at least a heavy frown from him. It takes the brownrider a while to respond, just so long as it takes Arekoth to settle his wings, mightily ruffled. "A strange reflection of what would do right for the Weyr," is mused at least. The awl wavers a bit in the air. "Distorted. Ripples." This more earnest thoughtfulness doesn't last long. "I'm not certain an appointed weyrleader would be able to keep her from exacting whatever payment she feels she is owed." It's not said sympathetically, although K'del at least gets a look. Something in K'del's stance softens, just a little bit, in the wake of H'kon's answer. He's not exactly relaxed, though: it's probably just that he's relieved to earn thoughtfulness, and not outright disapproval. "And appointed Weyrleaders can be so easily replaced," he says. "That's just it, in the end: she's going to do whatever it is she's planning to do, and none of us are in a position to stop her, however much we try. Just have to... protect what we can, right?" Beat. "And hope I don't live to regret my decision." This time, the, "Indeed," has a tone of the fatalistic to it. He manages a pull of his mouth for the bronzerider. "And if you had accepted, those same words would certainly have been spoken nonetheless." But H'kon is becoming uncomfortable. The awl gets poked into his thumb again. "Was there anything more you'd wished to discuss?" K'del lets the air in his lungs escape. "Probably," he agrees. "So here we are. But - you're not alone. So, that's something." He takes the hint, head shaking. "Guess I'd better leave you to it. But if there is anything you need..." Otherwise, he can see himself out. No doubt Cadejoth will be back shortly. "Arekoth can contact you if there is anything." H'kon is good enough to stand, at least, awl going behind his back, where he clasps it between both hands. "Of course," says K'del, quickly. "Any time, okay? Any time you need anything." It's a meaningful glance, and then he leaves, long strides carrying him quickly from the weyr and out into the foggy morning. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 24 Feb 2013 04:28:52 GMT.
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._. Nothing can pierce the brightly painted shell of hermit crab H'kon, K'del. Though it was nice of him to try. So fatalistic.
Leova (Varied (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 24 Feb 2013 05:01:56 GMT.
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It's especially interesting seeing K'del look for approval, or at least non-approval, from H'kon... and, earlier, H'kon's not embracing going back to being 'just a wingrider.'
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