Logs:Nice Day For A Gather
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| RL Date: 15 August, 2009 |
| Who: B'kaiv, C'sel, K'del, Tisdan |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del attends the Nabol gather, where he meets C'sel and his father, former dragonrider (and Nabolese Blood) Tisdan, and B'kaiv of Fort. |
| Where: Nabol Hold |
| When: Day 25, Month 6, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions |
| Grounds, Nabol Hold A land of gently rolling hills and dark soil, Nabol stretches out across the southern end of High Reaches' territory. Most of the land is devoted to sprawling farms and orchards; even the fallow areas are overgrown forests of apple and other fruit trees. A number of rivers and smaller streams cut across the land, providing excellent irrigation. With the temperate climate and abundant greenery, animals are widespread, frequent visitors to the forests and fields. The main Hold rises abruptly up from the land, a fortress carved into cliff faces that spring from the valley around it. Although the morning starts out rather pleasant, the rising temperatures and the clinging humidity make for a sticky, uncomfortable afternoon. Without a breeze, even the evening is a little muggy. By late afternoon, the heat of the day now passed, the gather is in full swing, though the evening's activities - the dancing, for example - are yet to begin. Amidst the crowds, K'del is ambling alone for the moment, drawing away from the stalls of gather wares in order to head for one of the stalls selling cool drinks. There's a queue, and although one group of weyr residents offer to let him ahead, he waves them off, instead waiting his turn behind the rest of them, his gaze sliding in this direction and that as he observes the rest of the proceedings. After duty is over for the day, C'sel joins the celebrations at the hold, the brownrider walking the square with an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, a seamed face and work-hardened hands. A passing glance might not make much of the pairing, a closer look reveals an unmistakable resemblance between the two that speaks to some family relationship. The brownrider draws up behind K'del in that line for cool drinks. "The golden cider then," C'sel agrees with a suggestion just made by his companion and blue eyes settle on the Weyrleader's back, pick out his knot before recognition registers. "Sir?" he queries audibly, but not overly loudly. K'del, his head turned in completely the other direction as C'sel and his companion come up close, turns about in surprise at the sound of that query; swinging his entire body about, he first blinks at the pair, and then, more warmly, "Ah -- C'sel. And--" His head gets tipped towards the older man, greeting him with a polite smile. "Nice day for a gather, isn't it? Been here only a little while, really, but enjoying it. Warm, though." The young bronzerider slings his hands into his pockets, a gesture that makes him look younger than ever, grinning boyishly. "A lovely day for a gather," C'sel agrees with measured politeness and gestures to the man at his side. "This is my father, Hebron, he tends to the orchards here at the Hold," the brownrider performs introductions, "Father, the Weyrleader, K'del, bronze Cadejoth's." The orchard keeper holds a callused hand out towards the Weyrleader, bobbing his head. "Sir, an honor, a right honor," and he smiles a rather stark contrast to his son's more reserved manner. "Nice and warm indeed, good time for gettin' a cool drink. Was just recommending the golden cider to my boy here." Not really the sort to be out and about during this sort of social thing, particularly not when dragonriders are about, Tisdan is anyway for whatever reason. It's very likely he's had enough to drink already that it doesn't really matter what's going on or who else is about and he looks nicely glossy in the eyes while he wanders until he's stopped by a young man that looks distinctly similar to himself. It's near enough for him to overhear the Weyrleader's introduction and that's where his gaze ends up, darkened as he assesses the young man. "Father?" says his son, "I think, perhaps, that Adissa was looking for you." K'del draws his hand back out from his pocket and extends it to meet Hebron's; his grip is firm, though his expression remains relaxed. "Your /father/, C'sel. What a pleasure, sir, to meet you. The honour is all mine. The golden cider you say?" He pauses, just momentarily, and then, manfully, beaming, "Have to try some of that, then. Nabol's orchards are, after all, famed-- you do great work, sir." Though he's keeping his attention upon the pair in front of him, Tisdan's presence not so far off does get the briefest of glances, though there's no recognition there. Well. There wouldn't be, would there? The slightest inclination of C'sel's head confirms K'del's more effusive words and the brownrider's hands clasp behind his back as grettings are traded as well as handshakes. "Oh thank you, thank you sir, just keep the trees trimmed and healthy you know," Hebron claims with an abashed little smile. "Do know from fruit though, definitely. Taught Cas here a fair bit too before we lost him to the beastcraft," and the older man's hand comes to rest on the brownrider's shoulder, clapping there with broad fondness. The expression on C'sel's face is typically restrained, though there's the slightest twitch of a muscle that might betray a less-than-thrilled reaction. Blue eyes settle on Tisdan briefly, perhaps some recognition flickering there, but it's brief, C'sel and his parents have always been 'little people' at the hold. "It is a good day for cider and a good occasion for it," he murmurs a contribution to the conversation. The other, less grayed man is assessed in a less critical manner before Tisdan responds to the shove that his son offers his side. Particularly because it's difficult to ignore that sort of thing. "Adissa, yes," he repeats the words from moments before, distant. He heard them. "Why don't you go along ahead and see if you can't find her?" he adds, then he moves toward the lovely little gathering to interrupt. "You're K'del," he says, half obvious statement and half incredulous question. "It's an important job, nonetheless," K'del tells Hebron, as he takes his hand back, though not to dig it back into his pocket. His gaze slides towards C'sel, just subtly, as the older man continues to talk, and there's a flicker of amusement there, beyond his smile: family! The line moves forward, and with a glance around, so too does K'del, though whatever he'd intended to say next to the brownrider and his father is cut off, by Tisdan's approach. Beat. "I am," he agrees, dropping his other hand from his pocket in, perhaps, an attempt to look slightly more formal; though his tone remains mostly even, there's the faintest edge there, too. "Can I help you?" That might be a very faint smile from C'sel directed towards K'del, but Tisdan's approach sends the brownrider's face back to a calm neutral once more. Hebron actually takes a half step back and ducks his head deferentially and gives C'sel's arm a little tug. the weyrlingmaster's assistant shoots his father a brief sidelong look, then nods as well, not quite taking a step back but angling his shoulders to creating a little bit of distance there to allow the Weyrleader some space to carry on the new conversation. Formality is certainly not something Tisdan carries an air of around his person. Nor sobriety. "I expect not, no. I've not had the-- well, it's been a turn now, I believe, since your bronze gave you your title. It's nice to put a face to the knot, I suppose." The large man looks toward the brownrider and the older man briefly, then returns his gaze to the youngest, offering a hand, "I'm Tisdan. Formerly rider of bronze Lycoth at High Reaches." K'del cannot be unaware of Hebron's reaction, nor of the way C'sel more or less follows suit, for he does duck a glance in that direction, brows just slightly raised, but his attention is drawn back towards Tisdan in short order, and again, he smiles, though this fades rapidly enough at mention of that now-dead dragon. "/Shells/," he gets out, before he can stop himself; he looks abashed. Then, "Sor-- I am sorry for your loss, Tisdan. It is, nonetheless, a pleasure to meet you. You... live in Nabol, now, then?" There's a tight smile that hardly looks the part at the bronzerider's first reaction but Tisdan has had enough to drink not to take this too terribly poorly for the moment. He only inclines his head slightly to acknowledge the sympathy, then replies, "I do, yes. It's better here, my eldest told me." This time his smile does seem somewhat amused, if darkly so. He looks like he might say something else, then his expression softens slightly as he says instead, "Anyway, I didn't mean to interrupt." A nod then offered to brownrider and Hebron. The amusement, K'del greets with some of his own, just the flicker of a suggestion of it, beyond his otherwise perfectly maintained politeness. "I'm sure it's a fine place to live," he tells him, with another dip of his head. "No, of course not. No interruption at all. This is C'sel," he indicates the brownrider with one hand, "One of our Assistant Weyrlingmasters. And his father, Hebron, who works in the orchards here." The line continues to move forwards steadily, though it takes K'del a little while to catch on, and keep moving, much to the irritation of those further back in the line. Hebron's head ducks again and he clears his throat. "Sir," he says simply and C'sel offers a half-bow to Tisdan in turn. "Nabol was a good place to grow up," he notes, voice continuing in the vein of neutrally polite conversation, though he notes the little backlog in the line and lifts his brows at the Weyrleader with an accompanying tilt of his chin to alert him to the need to move forward. Tisdan makes some affirmative sound about Nabol's fineness and looks at C'sel more carefully before offering to the elder of the two, "I think, perhaps, I recognize you. A pleasure to meet you both." Obviously words he knows he's supposed to use rather than feeling any sincerity for using them. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I've kept my daughter waiting long enough." Or he has other obligations. In any case, he excuses himself and heads in the direction his son had gone earlier. K'del's cheeks go faintly pink, and he all but jumps, at C'sel's chin tilt, as he hurries to move on up the line. It means he's a little slower, and slightly less composed, as he responds to Tisdan once more, the words coming out more scatteed: "Oh-- of course. A pleasure to meet you, Tisdan, hope your gathering continues... uh. Well." Big smile, but awkward, followed by a frown as the former dragonrider disappears back into the crowd. "Tended to your father's orchards these past forty turns and more, sir," Hebron does provide with the sort of smile that a lackey offers to a superior. C'sel's manners continue to be entirely appropriate and proper. "Thank you, sir, likewise," which is the typically rote response in spite of his gesturing chin for K'del's benefit. "May you both enjoy the gather," he wishes with a slight drop of his head, eyes intent on Tisdan for a moment before he's obligated to look away in order to avoid bumping into K'del as they move up in the line. After the holder has departer Hebron lets out a breath. "Well he was in a seeming better frame of mind than some days," the orchard-keeper allow in a lower voice to his son. Still frowning, K'del turns his attention back towards his two remaining companions once Tisdan is well and truly gone; if he hears that last comment of Hebron's, he's polite enough not to remark on it. What he does say, instead, however, is, in a questioning tone, "Aside from-- being a former dragonrider, I mean, but... who is he? If you're calling him sir." More musingly, and before giving time for a reply, he adds, "Seems to be doing very well, for all of that. Though I've never really talked to a dragonless rider before." "He is -- handling it well," C'sel has to agree, blue eyes skirting after the disappearing holder's back. Hebron draws a breath though, blinks at the Weyrleader. "Sir, that'd be Lord Ustelan's third son by his first wife. He's not properly in the line of succession by most opinions, but he's a full-blooded son anyhow," the orchard-keeper explains. C'sel's head inclines very slightly in confirmation for his father's words. "Though I have not met him formally before, I am -- aware from visits, of his history," the brownrider says quietly. K'del draws in his breath, eyes darting instantly back through the crowds, though Tisdan is long out of sight. "/Shells/," he breaths, instantly awkward. "Wish I'd known that. Bit hard to keep track of all the Nabolese, sometimes... Should've known, though. Hope I didn't..." He breaks off, looking rueful, and finally seems to give up on it: "Ah well. Too late, now. Poor man." Finally, they're more or less at the head of the queue, and K'del, wiping sweat off of his brow, tilts his head around to note this, though still lingering in the conversation with C'sel and his father. "It can be difficult to know what the proper thing to say is," C'sel notes mildly. Hebron casts a discomfited look towards his son, like maybe he would say something different, but opts not to, given present company. "It would seem that he has found a good life in returning home, so there is some comfort perhaps, to be found in that knowledge," C'sel continues in a lower tone of voice as they reach the head of the line. Time to get some nice cool drinks to stave off that heat. K'del's gaze slides between C'sel and his father, briefly curious, but evidently not enough to press for anything more. "Quite right," he concludes, instead, letting out a long breath. "Of course. Can't blame a man for not wanting to stay in the weyr, as well." Beat. Then, with the drinks stall right ahead of him, he adds, "Come, I'll buy your drinks, if you'd let me? Won't keep you, though, if you've other places to be, but..." Twin moments of hesitation express themselves on Hebron and C'sel's faces and the father slides a questioning look towards his son. The brownrider ultimately nods. "Thank you kindly, Weyrleader. Of course, I'd be happy to return the favor at some point." It's Hebron who answers the last though. "No sir, just walking the gather, you know. Might take my wife for a little spin around the dance floor later." K'del? Not really paying attention to the hesitation, since he's already starting towards the stall while they deliberate, though he does turn his head back to tell C'sel, "Of course, of course, if you like. No need, though, really. It's-- Ah, yes, three of your golden ciders, then, please." While he waits for them to be delivered, he turns back to respond to Hebron, beaming: "Of course. Lovely idea. Will probably do someting similar, myself. Well. With someone, anyway." Typically, C'sel only nods just a little in answer to K'del at first. The father-son pair wait while K'del orders, C'sel's attention wandering briefly into the crowd, perhaps settling on a familiar figure here and there. "Ah, well a nice young man like you should definitely take a few likely girls out for a spin," Hebron declares. "I'm sure there's plenty would like to 'catch' themselves the Weyrleader." As the three drinks get deposited on the counter of the stall, K'del picks up two, to offer to the father and son; as soon as they've been taken, he'll go back for his own, and to hand over the requisite marks. With another of those warm, winning smiles, he tells Hebron, "So it seems. Course, I prefer the ones who'd rather catch the nice young man, but it's harder to travel incognito at these local gathers. Still, sure I shan't lack for partners. How about you, C'sel? Going to stay for the dancing?" With mugs in hand, thanks are promptly offered, Hebron's more effusive than C'sel's. There's something like an understanding smile on the orchard-keeper's face. "Well either way, I'll wish you luck, Weyrleader," the older man offers over from where he stands beside C'sel and K'del at one of the drink stalls, all three hold mugs of golden-hued cider, the warmth of the day pretty much at its peak this afternoon. C'sel takes a sip from his mug first before answering K'del's question. "Yes. I have -- an engagement or two to make good on." The drinks paid for, K'del steps away from the counter, and takes a tentative sip of his, which he swallows without any outward sign that it is not, in fact, to his taste at all. "Much appreciated," the young Weyrleader tells Hebron, with a lopsided smile, before he takes a second sip from his drink. "Do you?" To C'sel this time. "Good for you! Guess I will also hav-- dance with the Weyrwoman at some point, if I can find her." It's kind of an afterthought. Plenty of people at Nabol today, and it's not uncommon to see knots from Fort, Ruatha, even Crom. B'kaiv's one of those, a big brawny man making his way through the gather crowd, heading for the drink stall where K'del and C'sel linger. "'Scuse me - yeah, nice day - 'scuse..." A pair of young women, one in blue and one in yellow, cut him off, and Kai ends up near the other riders, giving their shoulders a casual glance that has him smartening up. "Fort's duties t' th' Reaches and her queens, sir. Sirs." Especially K'del, perhaps, but he refrains from saluting, only nods. Simply: "I do," C'sel answers the Weyrleader with no further elaboration on the matter. "Please convey my regards if you do," the brownrider continues about Tiriana. "It is of course, quite the large event. Will Cadejoth not assist?" Hebron drinks with relish and actually makes quick work of his cider. "Should go find your mother, C'sel. Thank you for the drink, sir." To the Weyrleader and Hebron's about to step away when Kai hulks on over and the orchard-keeper takes in the Fortian with noticeable curiosity, his gaze resting on the rider's green-threaded knot. "And the Reaches' to Fort," C'sel answers automatically, though there's slight signs of perplexity on his face about being addressed by the stranger. "Of course," K'del tells C'sel, with a dip of his head, and then, a rueful smile. "He will, of course. Just a matter off-- well, not important." Conveniently, Hebron's departure distracts him from anything else on that subject, and, ducking his head into a decently respectful part-bow, he tells the orchard-keeper, warmly, "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. And--" But. There's B'kaiv, and the young Weyrleader's head turns to consider the greenrider a moment, until: "And Reaches' duties to Fort queens, too, of course." "Fort's duties," B'kaiv adds to Hebron with a touch of apology for his lack of manners as the man prepares once more to leave. "It's a real nice Gather." And those two girls are still fetching drinks and keeping him from making his own excuses. The greenrider straightens again and offers his hand to K'del. "B'kaiv, green Chielyth's." So are a lot of other people. It's a long line for drinks. Hebron looks even more perplexed than C'sel but he nods politely at B'kaiv and clears his throat. "Ah -- Nabol's I guess," he looks a little lost. "If I don't see you later, son, next seven, your mother would like to make you dinner." And with that, the orchard-keeper is on his way with another awkward bow for both other riders. C'sel focuses on Kai again an murmurs quiet assent: "It is a well put together celebration." "It certainly is," chimes in K'del, after C'sel; he extends his hand to shake B'kaiv's, his grip firm and confident. "Pleasure to meet you, B'kaiv. I'm K'del, bronze Cadejoth's." There's a moue of awkwardness to that; yes, yes, he knows, they all know. Then, "And this is C'sel, brown Corvinth's, and one of our Assistant Weyrlingmasters." When he gets his hand back, he returns it to his mug, using both hands to lift it towards his mouth for another very small sip. Apples. Yuck. B'kaiv mumbles another, "Sir," for K'del's introduction, unnecessary though it may be, and after he's retrieved his hand looks upon the brownriding C'sel. Looks and blinks, his mask of uncertainty momentarily cracked; after a second he collects himself and turns back to K'del with a wry little grimace. "Never know who you're gonna meet at a Gather, I guess." More apology: "Didn't mean t' interrupt none." But since he has... "Don't suppose neither of you know if what's-his-name - N'thei's gonna be here? Suppose it's too far away for your weyrlings, an' all." C'sel starts to hold a hand out to B'kaiv in turn as K'del makes proper introductions and this time there's a quiet "Well met, B'kaiv," to go along with it, but then he blinks once, twice at the greenrider from Fort for his remark. Otherwise there's nearly no reaction at all to be found on his face. "The weyrlings, several, are present," C'sel notes mildly. "I accompanied two of them over." His brow wrinkles faintly and he slowly shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that I do not know Wyaeth's rider personally, nor do I have any knowledge of his plans for the day." K'del promises, in a friendly tone, "It's no interruption, truly. Always nice to meet new people, right?" He's silent over talk of weyrlings; indeed, he says nothing more until after C'sel speaks of N'thei, though his expression immediately turns distinctly-- what, amused? Bemused, maybe, at very mention of that particular bronzerider. "Can't see N'thei at gathers by choice, to be honest, not these days. More of a seedy dive and cards kind of man, in my experience. You're acquainted with him yourself, then?" Kai ohs for weyrlings who are present, after all, and turns to look as if expecting one or more of them to appear out of the crowd. Or, considering the height of this particular batch, to appear above the crowd. When none do, it's back to the other men, K'del in particular, with perhaps a grimace of regret for those seedy dives. "Nah, ain't never met him. Chielyth likes Wyaeth, though. He don't talk t' her a lot, but it don't stop her from asking after him or nothing." A shrug for his green: what can you do? "Met, uh... Mik. K'ndro. Th' other day. Real nice manners." Not being the sort to thrust himself into a conversation and not being addressed directly, C'sel does the self-effacing thing again and in this case, retires somewhat behind his mug as Kai continues to speak with K'del. His attention seems diverted for a moment even and it's not until B'kaiv's last sentence that he offers over: "K'ndro is a very steady young man. His Xadovith is a very -- interesting partner. He has much in common with my Corvinth." K'del's face holds obvious interest at this concept: Chielyth, chasing after Wyaeth. Fascinating! There's amusement there, too. "Can't imagine Wyaeth being all that receptive, either. Don't think he chases greens, really. Or anyone, these days." These days. Always: these days. It's his turn to concentrate on his mug as C'sel puts in his comment on K'ndro, though the young Weyrleader nods along easily enough. "Very nice," he agrees. "They're a good group, in general." B'kaiv says, "/Corvinth/," and snaps his fingers, returning his attention to C'sel, just for a moment. "That's right. He said as Corvinth liked racing, an' maybe Chielyth'd be interested. She's real small. Can turns on a mark an' give you change. Bet she'd love weaving through them spires you got up there." As if they're C'sel's personal property. As for N'thei, "Yeah, heard that too. Don't think she's looking t'... mean, she's still real young, an' all. But she found him this one time when they was in classes, an' he were nice t' her, an'. Well." He doesn't have cider to distract the eye or occupy the hand, so has to look away, off at the crowd. "I'll just keep remembering for her." C'sel's gaze slants towards the Weyrleader for a moment at that remark, then returns to B'kaiv, scrutiny increasing in intensity as the greenrider speaks further. "Corvinth -- is quite enamored of the Reaches' spires," the brownrider confirms, eyes not moving from Kai's face now. Could be disconcerting. "He would be delighted to race with her," and his head cocks to the side a little. "He takes her measure as we speak." The cider in his mug is reduced by a quarter when his gaze returns to B'kaiv, steady. Silent for talk of the spires, though he nods along, in between careful sips from his drink, K'del does pipe up eventually to say, levelly, "Well, and why not, I suppose. Nice, that she thinks so fondly of him. And that he was nice to her, I imagine." The Weyrleader inches his mug again, giving it an appraising glance. B'kaiv might, perhaps, be so disconcerted by C'sel's stare, because other than a now and again glance - is he still looking? - the Fortian keeps his eyes on K'del now, thanks. "Yeah, that's... yeah. She says." He still has no cider to provide a handy pause in which to redirect the conversation, and has to provide his own awkward one. "How about Cadejoth, sir? He one for flying? Our wing - Flint - we do a lot of that sort. An' shells, Chielyth loves it. Th' tricky stuff's th' best." It's possible that C'sel might pick up on that discomfort and his gaze shifts elsewhere, off in the crowd somewhere. "Corvinth requires much tricky flying to keep him ... occupied." He does have cider to fill in the pauses in conversation and makes use of it in fact. "Ah. You ride in the new Weyrleader's wing," is commented neutrally next. K'del's gaze is sympathetic for B'kaiv's discomfort, even encouraging, and certainly, he latches on to the shift if conversation easily. "He loves to fly, but lacks the-- precision, shall we say? Too much enthusiasm, not enough concentration. He goes mad if he doesn't get out flying all the time, though, so we do a lot of it, even when we don't have drills." His comments come in after C'sel's on the new Weyrleader, though he adds, belatedly, "You like flying with T'rev? Seems he'd be a good Wingleader." Beat. "And Weyrleader, of course." B'kaiv looks up to where a tiny dappled green darts overhead - much better than cider, really - and nods to give her to the others. "Chielyth don't care. She'll fly with anybody. Don't got t' be racing or nothing, neither. She just wants t' go." Still, it's rude to talk to people while staring at the sky, and Kai reluctantly brings his eyes back down to earth. "Uh, yeah. Most of th' - I mean, he weren't Weyrleader or nothing when he tapped me. He works real hard, I guess. We're gonna stop drilling so much, though. Was six days out of th' seven." Having little in the way of opinion to offer on Fort, C'sel listens to the next exchange between Weyrleader and greenrider. "Corvinth requires such as well," he notes about Cadejoth's proclivities where flying is concerned. "Ah, a traditionalist then," is the brownrider's remark on the drilling habits of Fortian wings. With a dip of his head towards C'sel, and then to B'kaiv, K'del says, "It appears to be a common thing. Poor Cadejoth: he liked it better when we had more time, to just go and fly and whatever. Don't have quite so much time, these days, but we manage." After the traditionalist comment, K'del remarks, "Mm, interesting. Wonder if all the wings drill so much; may have to chat with T'rev at some point, toss some ideas around. How to keep everyone occupied, and not frustrated." That seems to be mostly a comment to himself, because his smile, after that, is apologetic. "Guess so," Kai allows for T'rev's drilling tendencies, with a shrug to mark his own uncaring on the subject. "Gedroth - he's one of Chielyth's brothers - he's th' same. Guess it ain't too strange, thinking on it though. 'Cause they got wings for a reason, ain't they?" A nod for his irrefutable logic. "Worst thing is when she can't go nowhere, an' she gets all wound up." He looks after his green again, unfailingly finding her though she's no where to be seen. "He'd probably like that, sir," to K'del. "Came from Telgar, so he's used t' th' different ways different Weyrs do things." "He had more challenges during the Comet Pass, but was also more -- reckless." C'sel's voice is slow, considering and he doesn't elaborate further. "A traditionalist with an open mind then," the brownrider remarks a little dryly, though that might be humor? Maybe? Hard to say. Either way, C'sel drinks a little more deeply from his mug. "Corvinth would not object to being so very occupied, but I can see how it might be -- a heavy load on some riders to drill so much without a visible reason." K'del laughs around his mug, though he's more or less stopped drinking from it; the apples really must have gotten too much for his tastes. "Wings for a reason. Yeah, of course. Mm, Cadejoth's the same. Drove me mad with Iovniath was on the sands-- of course, that was mostly... Well. Anyway." He trails off from that, adding, "Will have to seek him out again, then." C'sel's comments draw consideration from the young rider, though in the end, all he says is, "Got to find the right balance, I think. Busy, but not... Mm." B'kaiv says, "Gotta know what we're doing for th' next time there's Thread," with a nod for C'sel, "But same time, ain't gonna be none for close on hundred-eighty Turns. And that's a long sharding time t' be drilling six days out of seven. That's somethin' like..." He squints across the way at nothing in particular. "Fifty-six thousand days of drilling. Think even Chielyth'd get tired after all that." Here's a faint smile, amusement turned in on himself. "--That usual? That a bronze sits with th' gold? Dunno as Zaiventh did, but I weren't paying much attention back then." "I don't really like to think what Corvinth would be like if he ever caught a gold." Beat. "Not that that is likely, given his size and general ... disposition." A nod to K'del. "Yes. Balance," he agrees quietly. "And what would you prefer to spend those hours doing?" the brownrider asks after a moment's consideration. Yes. Those blue eyes are settling on Kai again with the question. "Fifty-six thousand days? Now you're making /me/ tired," jokes K'del, running his hand through his curls and shaking his head. "Cadejoth... would go mad on the sands, too, I think; find it really boring. But Iovniath wouldn't let him, so... Always want the things you don't have, you know?" His head bobs evenly in response to the rest of the comments from both men, though he goes quiet again as C'sel fixes that question - and the attention that goes with it - upon the greenrider. His lips twitch. What would B'kaiv? He opens a hand to let the possibility of blasphemy fly. And yet... "I were thinking of starting a bar in one of them empty weyrs. Nothing snoo - uh, fancy, just a place t' put up your feet an' have a beer. Can't expect t' see no profits if I got t' close down early t' get t' drills every morning." More irrefutable logic, and he delivers it with a firm nod for C'sel. Then sidelong to K'del, "She wouldn't let him, so he wanted t' do it? Heard he's real young - think he's gonna settle, any?" "Business," C'sel sums up simply, nodding. "And what about riders who are not inclined to running businesses or taking on many hobbies?" he asks next, head tilting curiously to the side. The questions aren't demanding ones, they're just ... questions. And he drinks when the next of Kai's questions lands at K'del's door. "Fort's already got a bar, doesn't it?" questions K'del, though perhaps it's more that he's thinking out loud. "Though-- for different clientele, perhaps. An interesting idea." The young weyrleader wipes his hand down his trousers, it being damp from the condensation on his mug, adding, "Therein lies the problem, I think, C'sel. Be damned if I know what I'd do that was worthwhile, if I weren't in my position." Back at B'kaiv he adds, with a shrug, "Not so young as all that. Not now, anyway. Doubt he will at this point, no. He's-- who he is, is all." Beat. "At any rate, I'm supposed to be mingling... if you'll both excuse me? A pleasure to meet you, B'kaiv." "--Do whatever they want," Kai answers, after a few seconds to think it over. "Ain't none of th- us born an' thrown straight on t' the Sands. I were gonna be a guard. Su's a vintner. Let them as was crafters do that. Shells, T'rev's gonna end up bein' HarperMaster, way he's going." K'del makes his excuses and Kai gives him a nod, no longer as uncertain and formal as when he inadvertently joined the group. "You too, sir. I'll ask her t' keep an eye out - maybe they could go flying sometime, leave us behind. Enjoy th' Gather." A little nod for K'del. "There is not much call for dragonriders who were once beastcrafers. Dragons tend to -- spook the animals," the brownrider notes with that same dryness that often indicates C'sel's version of joking. "Not everyone has such interests outside of the duties of a rider," C'sel iterates again to Kai. "Idle hands ... are not always advisable," he murmurs quietly, then half-bows to K'del. "Of course, Weyrleader. Best of luck locating the Weyrwoman and may she be as pleasant to you as the weather has been to us all." "No, suppose there wouldn't be," agrees K'del to C'sel, lips curving just slightly. "Mm. No. Something to keep thinking on, I suppose." Beat. "Thank you, both, for the company." If there's another twitch of his lips at mention of the Weyrwoman, it's only a faint one, and he concentrates, instead, upon telling B'kaiv, "That's an excellent idea. Next time I'm at Fort, I'll tell him to look out for her. And likewise, of course. Evening!" Off he wanders. Notably, that mug, still half full? Gets abandoned relatively quickly, oh yes. |
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