Logs:Way Back When
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 14 October, 2014 |
| Who: K'del, Azaylia |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: The Weyrleaders take a stroll during an Istan gather, and partially down memory lane. |
| Where: Ista Hold |
| When: Day 25, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, Ishadel/Mentions, Iska/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, Nikalas/Mentions, Weylaughn/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
  |
| Ista Hold Lush tropical foliage and extensive coastlines comprise the main areas around Ista Hold, from the Lord Holder's prize citrus trees to the white, sandy beaches stretching to the south and east. Glittering shades of green and blue cradle the sands, with the ample docks jutting out to the south providing easy access to ships for both transportation and delivery of goods. The hold itself is rather large, built into a seaside cliff that overlooks marshlands, jungles, and water alike. The courtyard that leads to the entrance of the Hold is made from slabs of light grey limestone. A layer of gravel has been laid as a mortar for the large, irregular slabs. Moss and other trample-hardy plants grow between the slabs, spilling green onto the stark rock and creating a constant headache for gardeners trying to keep the green away from the Hold. Herb and flower gardens sit on raised beds and simple benches and tables litter the courtyard. Inside, the great hall is lined with tables made of a hardwood specific to the Istan jungles, the decor reminiscent somewhat of a ship with carvings and bright, tropical colors. The hold extends several floors up with rooms and offices for its inhabitants, while the lower level is occupied by the Ista Harper Hall.
High Reaches' Weyrwoman has embraced Istan fashion perhaps a bit too much, specifically Ista Wey'r. The sheer turquoise and gold trim dress is perfect for the warm weather, and what threatens to be revealing is actually made up of layers upon layers-- modestly opaque. Azaylia's certainly happy to be away from the cold of home, smile just as warm as the now setting sun. She'll attempt to slip her arm through his, too pleased to hesitate at showing him even platonic affection as she laughs, "Like you need an excuse to give any of your children presents." The goldrider may not know much about babies and things, but she knows K'del well enough. "I know I said not to let me buy anymore bath oils, but..." She tosses a longing glance over her shoulder at the stand that is no longer in sight. "I might have to pick up a little something, before we leave." K'del shows no hesitation in crooking his arm to give Azaylia better access, and laughs, unapologetic, for her remark. "Won't even pretend to deny it," he agrees, tucking his little bundle under his arm. "Though I do try to moderate myself; their mothers tend to worry about them being spoiled. It's just that I feel guilty, sometimes." For working too much. For living on the other side of the globe. For... well, you name it, really. "That, um, I don't know, that last oil. Seemed pretty unusual? You might not see it again, if you let it go." His dimples show; he's not even trying to stop her. "I think it's good, to show a little extra of how much you care." Azaylia's soft voice is slow, thoughtful. "Just to make sure they don't worry, while you're gone." Not that she blames K'del, but she isn't going to expect children to be the bastions of maturity. "Then again, I could be completely wrong." Hardly an expert. As for her own shopper's itch, K'del is making it worse and he knows it. And yet, "That's what I was thinking. I usually think the best stuff is from... Igen," Said in a gentle murmur so as not to offend any passersby, "But it really was something..." Her free hand fans the air, "Later. How are Ali and your girls? And your boys?" The whole K'del brood. There's a softness to K'del's smile in answer to Azaylia's words, one that flickers only once at her mention of Igen, and then blossoms again at her question. "They're well; all of them. Ali's... well, it's more than two turns since Isyath rose last; it's a long time, for her, and this time..." This time it matters. "But she's well. We all are." His gaze trails over a stall of wood carvings, but only in an idle kind of way. "Igen's had a bad turn, of course, with all of that... well, you know." It's probably not a good idea to mention the word 'leprosy' in a public place. A warm hum, "Good." There's an understanding nod for Ali's queen, and the pressure she must feel to secure her role at Southern. "It seems like Hraedhyth is pretty consistent, but who knows? Other queens might slow down even more. We're in an Interval, after all." Not that she sounds particularly pleased by that, at the idea of less dragon babies. "I know. I wish there was more I could do, but..." Not their territory, not in her abilities, and certainly not a good risk for a Senior Weyrwoman. "I heard--" Her head turns suddenly, loose curls bouncing along her shoulders and back as she tracks a young man. When she straightens, it's with a light pinch to her brow, "Sorry. He looked familiar." It's more than that, and when she looks up at K'del it's with a faint frown, "Like that Seven Echoes Holder boy." As if she's speaking of an injured canine pup. Any answers K'del might have had for Azaylia's earlier remarks are abandoned when the weyrwoman is distracted, his own gaze following after hers. "Fam-- ah." He's silent for long seconds after that, blue-eyed gaze still focused off into the distance, rather than upon the Weyrwoman. Finally, "Understand he's left the Weyr. Got to... feel bad for him. It's a hopeless case." Azaylia leans a bit more on his arm, the wind momentarily taken out of her sails as she remembers. "I don't blame him." The 'poor thing' is audible in her soft voice. "Is it really hopeless, though?" Her head tilts up, sounding hopeful even though her expression is fairly resigned. She already knows the answer, and yet she has to ask. She has that much empathy left. With a fortifying huff, she straightens back up, gaze gliding over the booths and offering a gentle smile to those who happen to cross gazes with her. Appearances and all. That question finally draws K'del's gaze back to Azaylia, his own expression caught between sad and resigned. Her huff is a reminder to him; he, too, straightens, pasting his smile back on as he makes his quiet, thoughtful answer. "Has to be. Even if it's true - which seems unlikely; Aughan's too smart to have random bastards floating around - it doesn't matter. Can't make a Lord acknowledge anyone, and even if you could, can't make him name a person his heir. Must be... can't even imagine how it must feel for him. Poor kid." There's a purse of her lips when K'del says 'bastard'. "Such an awful word." Her opinion is carried by a slow exhale, but she doesn't offer even a meek argument. "He seemed so nice." At least during his meeting with Azaylia. "Polite, but not scared. Not like the weyrlings." Some of them, along with those weyrfolk who are all too aware of rank at all times. She falls silent, thoughtful, until she gives a decisive nod, "If I ever run into him, he's getting a hug." And that's that. Speaking of, she gives K'del's arm a bit of a squeeze, a gentle embrace as they continue to make their rounds. It'll be a long moment before she admits with a murmur, "This is nice." Not that she explains much further than that. It is an awful word; K'del acknowledges that with a twist of his mouth, and a low exhale. He's clearly amused by what Azaylia says next, but in a pleased kind of way; he squeezes her arm in return, abandoning that less pleasant topic in order to agree, "It is." It's not his last word on the subject; after carefully bypassing someone's dropped ice cream cone, now melting into nothing, he adds, "Like old times, kind of. Way back when." He sounds, for once, rather more content than wistful or mournful. For now - well. This is what it is. Doing her best to enjoy the rest of the evening, Azaylia distracts herself from the cruel truth. The returned squeeze helps, lips already starting in a soft smile before talk of 'way back when' has it blossoming into a grin. She can't help it, she has to laugh, however softly. "I was so scared of you. Of Cadejoth." Whose name is uttered with an affection that's near to what she feels for Hraedhyth. She plucks her skirt high enough for matching slippers and ankles to flash, maneuvering with the Weyrleader over that fallen treat, before starting again. "I miss it." She'll allow for some longing if he won't, but nothing to dampen her smile. "Now," And she hesitates, peeking at K'del from the corner of her eyes before she decides to soldier on. "Now, I'm always worried that if I... I'm afraid, with how I am, that-- I don't want to make trouble for you. Your family." It's a casual confession, comfort sought in the physical contact between them now. "Not because I would but, being like this?" Snuggle. "We don't have the best reputations." Some worse than others. Cough. K'del's expression turns immediately fond at Azaylia's mention of Cadejoth, and for those long-ago days. He sucks in a breath as she continues, though, his head turning side-long so that he can return her glance, smile in place... more or less. "You won't," is quiet; a promise. He doesn't move away; doesn't push her away; doesn't do anything except squeeze her arm again. "Not going to cheat on Ali, not with you, and not with anyone. You and I... we can be friends without that. I don't care who you sleep with; it just doesn't matter. None of it. Okay?" "You'd better not." Is a gentle threat, as real as it is sweet. "I may not understand it," And she might never, "But I know you're happy. And that... it makes me really happy." Like old times. Gentle at first, she'll agree, "Okay..." Until the sentiment swells and she's beaming up at K'del, an echo of that naive adulation, "Okay!" A moment later and it's gone, replaced by the hard earned confidence of a senior Weyrwoman. She takes a bold turn, intending to lead him down a particular path by her hold on his arm, "So, sneaking over to your weyr with tea and cookies? Is that allowed? Or do you weyrmated folk think that's too wicked?" Any question K'del has about their destination will be answered when the soaps and bath oil vendor is visible once more. K'del's smile blossoms, brilliant and sincere. He's about to answer when Azaylia leads him away, and holds off to allow her to do so, to keep talking (if that's what makes her happy!) His mouth twitches as he recognises their destination, but it's the goldrider's words that he answers. "That's definitely allowed, promise. Tea and cookies, even the occasional drink... we're partners, remember? And friends. And enablers. Pretty sure there's a few things with your name on them here." "I'll remember. Promise." As if she's forgotten. And yet, given the months and turns passed, it's a possibility. Azaylia has given in before they even reach the stand, but if she must go down, she'll drag K'del with her. "I like the rich scents myself, but I know there's a bottle that smells like sweet flowers. I bet it'd be perfect for Ali." Enablers indeed, an impish curl tugging at the corners of her otherwise sweet smile. It doesn't mean K'del's wrong, the Weyrwoman's usually tight purse flowing freely when it comes to her perfumes and oils. When High Reaches' Weyrleaders eventually do head for home, Hraedhyth will be loaded up with cosmetic delights. Cosmetic delights, yes. But also? Good will. And isn't that the best possible way to end a turn, and prepare for a new one? |
Comments
Roz (09:19, 14 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
Look at our cute little Weyrleaders. :D I liked it, guys, I really liked it!
Edyis (18:35, 14 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
Dawww. Now ladies and Gents this is what a functional pair of Weyrleaders looks like.
Leave A Comment