Logs:Flying in a Storm
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| RL Date: 3 June, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Iolene |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Iolene and Brieli bond over lunch. And Brieli agrees to Stand for the gold at Monaco Weyr. |
| Where: Iolene's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: Stormy. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| Late morning, the day after the hatching, finds most of the Weyr recuperating from last night's festivities, where the talk of the clutch composition and some of the more notable Impressions, the exile to bronze and the Blooded individuals who have now given up their birth rights. Iolene's had an early, striking morning, making her way from crafter to crafter, talking to them about their needs and woes and then out for a visible walk about the snow, venturing close to the barracks, though not going in, and returning home. It's been both productive and unproductive of a morning. And now, she's in the process of shedding her warm coats and boots, bare toes wiggling at the sudden freedom, mindless of the puddles her snow-damp figure's created on her floors. An early lunch is waiting for her on her table. Maybe Brieli's been paying attention to Iolene's movements; maybe she's got connection in the kitchens; maybe she just has good timing. Whatever the reason, the snow is barely melting off the goldrider's outerwear before there's quiet footsteps and a tall shadow coming up the steps hesitantly. The once-candidate is swamped in a worn black woolen coat that looks like a Stores special, its saving grace bright red scarf and gloves - and finally, grudgingly, a hat. "Io?" she asks, muffled - then pulls down her scarf to call more clearly, "It's Bri." In the space it's taken for Brieli to show up, however timely, Io's minced bare toed steps to her hearth and taken a poker to it; ignite, light brighter, warmer, and a happy sigh exhales in conjunction with the once-candidate's appearance. "Come in!" She's all too welcoming, turning that poker onto the familiar voice, only belatedly realizing what an aggressive stance this might be, and concluding with a chagrinned little giggle. "It's warmer closer over here. You have such good timing. I was just getting ready to stay inside for the rest of the day. Ysavaeth says a storm's on its way, and she's made plans with Cadejoth to fly. And fly some more. Come in. Do you want some spiced cider?" It must be said that Brieli joins Iolene much, much more quickly when it's apparent that there's no Ysavaeth lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike or judge her or something. On her way over, nose wrinkling, "Thank her for the warning. I don't fancy the idea of tromping around in more snow. I'll have to go out, but I'll just make a good run for it." And yes, the poker pointing her way does make her stop, blinking, coat half undone, before the blonde giggles. With her own nervous laugh, she teases, "Planning to take up some sort of duelling? And I would love some cider, thank you." Shrugging out of the black shapeless thing, "Is flying better in a storm?" "Once," admits Iolene, "I asked someone I thought I could trust to teach me to fight. But I don't think he's ever taught anyone to use a hearth poker. It does make a useful sort of... sword?" A mini-test slash is taken to the air, before another grin claims her face. The poker ends up traded for a mug and the pitcher of steaming spiced cider: the first for Brieli, while a quick second pour is for herself. "Are you hungry? I skipped breakfast. K'del had things to do and- I don't really like eating alone unless I really have to and since you're here?" There's bread and cheese and sliced vegetables with some green dip. There's small talk, and then there's babble, and Io stops just short of the latter as she pauses to consider Brieli. "Nothing is better in a storm, but you can make the best of it I think. How are you feeling today?" A bit grimly, "If you needed to hit someone for some reason, I'm sure that would do enough damage, training or no. I've always thought it's useful to know how to fight at least a little. In case you end up in a situation." Brieli doesn't really elaborate - she likely doesn't need to, but she's quick enough to grin at Iolene's demonstration and change the subject. "If you don't mind the company, I could eat. I had breakfast quite early this morning - I've gotten used to the earlier mornings." For K'del's level of busyness, there's an understanding and sympathetic nod, and she chats easily as she eats, managing not to stuff her face as usual. The tall dark girl doesn't seem to mind the babble, but the more thoughtful words draws her brows together, and she'll muse over a sip of cider before, "Wise words. I'm feeling less disappointed than expected. 'Your dragon wasn't on the Sands' sounds like a platitude beforehand, but... there might be something to that. I don't think it was right, last night. But I think..." Careful, "With help, Azaylia will be wonderful." Iolene leans across that stone table, her knee braced against a chair suddenly, and with the ease of doing this quite often, breaks off a piece of bread with one hand. Bread, cheese, and cider. "But not her dragon?" The teenager is a little wry in her appraisal of Ysavaeth's gold daughter. "I think my dragon is a little disappointed in the outcome of her clutch, but she's trying to work past it. The flying is helping. The flying in a storm is helping," is the quickly spoken amendment. "I... I had hoped to talk to you about that. Standing again, soon." The blonde's dark eyes drop to the piece of bread she holds, as if contemplating what to say or whether to eat first; the bread wins out in the end, the action buying her some time to watch Brieli further. With a laugh, "Oh, that dragon - she'll be fine, I think. She's... something else, and her looks don't bother me. It's that Azaylia - I think she might be frightened and worried that she'll do the wrong thing. She's loyal, and is a wonderful person with a good heart. I don't know that she sees that, though." Brieli offers Iolene a reassuring smile as she makes herself a little cheese sandwich, leaning forward as well. "She might grow out of the awkwardness? And is Ysavaeth disappointed by everything, or just her queen?" The question might be forgetten after Io's next, however - dark eyes look up to blink across the table at the goldrider, expression completely confused. "Soon? But... none of the golds are set to rise. Where?" A beat before, quieter, "Why?" Given reason to tangent, Iolene grabs onto it, Brieli's thoughts on Azaylia drawing her away from her purpose for this conversation. "I remember that feeling. The fright, the weight, and having no one to be there for me. We were all a little lost then, but thank you. I'd forgotten and I could- I should talk to her." Her lips ruminate over the rest of her bread, but she doesn't eat anymore and that lanky body of hers drops backward, sliding into the seat her knee claimed earlier. "I'm not stupid, even if some people might think so. I'm not... I'm not a weyrwoman and I don't really know what it's like to be a leader. But I also don't like being alone, or realizing that I shouldn't trust people. I trusted so many people and- now one of them's lost to me for good I think and the rest of us have our lives that- I trust you." Serious rambling with disconnected thoughts leading to the last one. "I trust you. I don't know why. I think something about you. I just do. And I want your support here. With everything happening. You have no reason to accept or listen to me babble, I know. But, K'del's putting together a list of our candidates who might stand for and Impress to the gold out of Monaco's clutch." Sincerely, "I think she'd really like that. It might take her some time to really - explain how she feels, but knowing it was frightening for you might help. And you are a weyrwoman, Io. You shouldn't put so much weight in one person's opinion. Ysavaeth's is the one that matters." If only Brieli knew how many points that might win her with a certain gold. Something Iolene says has her mostly picking at her sandwich, appetite lost as well as she looks down at it. "I know what it's like to feel alone. Outside of things, and like no one understands. Like no one could. And I have my own reasons for supporting you, not her. Beyond the fact that I do like you." Flashing a grin, "And your babble. You have a good heart, Io." Even so, she's still confused by this whole thing, confused enough to be composed when she looks up to ask, "Why Monaco?" "I'm not a weyrwoman." Io's denial is quick and firm. "I'm a goldrider, but I don't think I'd want to be a weyrwoman, regardless of Ysavaeth's desires. But we're copacetic now, she and I, on what we'd like to do." That 'to do' which does not get elaborated right now as she makes herself another of those mini sandwiches and sets the mug of cider down long enough to double fist her lunch. "Because... Monaco has offered us the gold on their sands, in lieu of the one Telgar owes High Reaches. I don't pretend to understand all the maneuverings or why they're doing this, other than that they are." The dark eyes drift off to consider the approaching storm, the one her dragon flies in, and then casts down to sweep from the little view of the outdoors she might have back to this inner weyr where it's warm. "I don't think you would have done well with Hraedhyth or Eolenth, Kasvanth, or any of the other dragons today. But I am hoping you might Impress Monaco's gold and return to us." Impulsively, she adds, "I'd rather it be you than one of the people who talk about how being an exile is awful and how-..." Still bemused, but now more thoughtful, Brieli echoes, "You're a goldrider. All right. Perhaps, another time, you can fill me in on the differences between the two." Apparently, she's noticed Iolene's penchant for wandering off the topic at hand. Setting down sandwich and giving up on it for the moment - can't eat, thinking - she wraps long fingers around her mug, her own dark brown eyes narrowed, unable to stop herself from trying to figure it out. "There's always reasons - they have a reason and we have a reason. But I don't entirely know why that might be either." But by her tone, she'd really like to find out. When the goldrider brings her focus in from the cold, she shakes her head a little and looks back across the table, expression serious. "I think... I think I agree with you on that. And I don't think I would mind trying. Though there is some risk I might Impress another and not return at all." That doesn't look like a prospect she relishes, despite her dislike of the cold. "No." In this, Iolene is forceful, though what of Brieli's statements elicits such an adamant reaction isn't clear until she sets both her sandwiches down and runs her hands against her pants, brushing both crumbs off while smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. "Ysavaeth said she would make sure no other dragon would come near you if not for the gold. Not that-," the goldrider concedes, "I'm quite sure how that works, and she has said she can't deter a dragon that intends to Impress to someone. But you could stand far away from the other eggs and I've heard Monaco plans to cluster the likely gold candidates around the gold egg itself, apart from the rest of the clutch. They," sudden insight brings a clearness to Io's eyes as she lifts them to find Brieli. She'll even manage a small smile, as that understanding brings with it some relief. "They have vested interest in sending one loyal to Monaco here, I bet." Blinking at the definitiveness of Io's response, Brieli widens her eyes as all of this dragon stuff is explained - she doesn't even look skeptical; what does she know? "Really," she says, now only a little uncertain. "If we stand apart, it goes so quickly that I don't think anything that's not meant to happen ought to happen." Trying to sort out her tangled feelings and thoughts on the matter, she almost doesn't pick up on what Iolene is saying, or that the goldrider is looking at her significantly. Straightening suddenly as it clicks, meeting the blonde's gaze, "Do you think there's enough time for that?" "Maybe Monaco wants the next Weyrwoman at High Reaches to be of Monaco and look to Monaco for direction." Iolene draws out, her words slow as she tries to piece this together. "No one knows who will rise next, and that's another thing I find appallingly stupid, that any group of people would let this decide who leads them. But it's tradition." An inflection that's a repetition of last night's of the Fortian junior weyrwoman returns in Iolene's words; not quite disdain, but a certain measure of disbelief. There's a lift of her brows, as if the heavens might help her not get started on this whole subject of Weyr leadership, and when they fall, she's looking to Brieli again. "K'del believes it will be Rielsath. Ysavaeth is hoping it will be herself, but it could be any of the golds here already or not here yet." Absent hands reach for those sandwiches she's put down, and one of them comes to be munched on. "Then, why have High Reaches send any candidates at all? Even if they'd like to influence the next Weyrwoman, they're diluting their chances by asking for candidates. Unless there's some specific girls they're expecting to have sent down." Brieli sips at her mug, still thoughtful. With a slight smile for Iolene's inflection, "It does seems like a huge roll of the dice, doesn't it? And it's terribly stressful for the entire Weyr." She takes a long moment or two before suggesting carefully, "I could try to suggest that my loyalties aren't entirely solid. I don't know how much of a difference that would make. But I could." Which sounds a lot like she's offering to go. The sense Brieli makes stills Iolene's relief, and the face scrunches cutely from the nose to the squinting eyes. "Right, right. I don't really know what Monaco hopes for, or when you'll be asked to go if-," the low voice trails off as what Brieli is saying sinks in. "You could," she allows, the denial of hope in her intonation making the two words a little stilted. But it's there, there in the lightened dark blue eyes and the expectant way Iolene's mouth gapes open a little. "I could try. I don't know if they'll believe it. But maybe it'll stop them from pushing me to the back when the egg starts to crack." Brieli is a little surprised by Iolene's reaction - like she almost always is, blinking over at the goldrider a couple of times before, "And I could see if there's anything I can find out." She'll even spy. She's good like that. Sincerely, dark brown eyes on blue, "Thank you for asking me, Io. I appreciate it." Iolene's expectant mouth closes, as if a reminder from afar just sunk in, and there's the faintest sheepish flush to her cheeks. But her voice, rich though untrained, finds something merry in all this and allows, "If you had just waited a little longer, I might have started begging and then Ysavaeth might have had to return to make sure I didn't debase myself completely." Laughing, "And then, I might have run in terror. So we should both be thankful. Should we finish lunch, then? Before I brave the storm?" Brieli could be talking about any number of things there - but she'll be glad to keep Iolene company for the early afternoon, in no hurry to get back to her stitching until she's been gone too long or big gold dragons return. Iolene can't quite mask the worry embedded deep in her eyes, but Brieli's suggestion of lunch and, perhaps, less agenda-filled conversation, has her smiling again, and she'll start with her own little bit of gossip to change the subject, "I might be having a baby soon." And from there, well, the talk can go in many directions, but girls are girls, outsiders or not and Io will keep Brieli inside (and away from the sewing) for as long as the food doesn't run out. And if she starts eating slower, or Ysavaeth keeps her distance up on those Starstones, maybe Brieli won't notice. |
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