Logs:From The Beginning
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| RL Date: 21 August, 2010 |
| Who: K'del, Saliqa |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Saliqa explains. All is not well. |
| Where: Cadejoth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 7, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Cadejoth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr As low to the ground as this ledge is, the view it affords is not an especially spectacular one, simply the bowl spread out in front of it, still some distance down. The ledge itself is a large one, easily big enough for a full grown queen and at least one, if not two, others, the stone worn smooth by turns and turns of steady use. A brocade curtain shelters the inner caverns from the outside. It's been a few days - most of a seven, even - since that somewhat awkward evening on the Garden Patio Ledge. This morning, K'del had a note sent out to Saliqa, inviting her to drop in this very evening. The wording is casual, but-- well. Come evening, K'del can be seen out on the ledge, rather than indoors, stretched out lazily on one of the two folding chairs that have been set up upon the stone surface. His gaze is tipped upwards: he's watching Cadejoth, far above, just a pale, bone-bronze fleck in the gathering evening sky. Despite that he's in the out of doors -- and in view of any concerned public! -- Saliqa finds it somewhat awkward to approach K'del from the path behind that leads up to that ledge. In her hands, she's been working that note along its fold, open and shut, open and shut, until the thing is nearly set to come right apart into two even pieces. But now, spotting the Weyrleader, she tucks those summoning words into the pocket of her skirts and approaches on steady steps. "Good evening to yourself," she mentions coming up, giving a light bob of a curtsy as he's seen on her before, "and your Cadejoth," with an affirming nod towards the sky. She can't pick out one bronze spot from another, but she is able to make the general estimation of the bronze's location based on, well, not being /here/. At the sound of footsteps, K'del turns his attention from his bronze to his visitor, smiling what seems to be a genuine enough smile. "Evening, Saliqa. Cadejoth's trying to get in a good stretch, which at least means we've plenty of space out here." Though given the size of the ledge? It'd take at least two dragons Cadejoth's size to really cramp things up. "Glad you could make it. Want a seat? A drink-- just juice." It's what he's drinking, too, a red-tinged fruit juice in a slender glass, matching the one on the table between the two chairs. "Thank you," still ever so gracious, Saliqa glances at the juice with interest, but without expressly going for it. "I think maybe I will be, ah," her chuckle is somewhat sheepish as she mimes patting herself over the chest, "Be staying off the whiskey, after all." That put forward, she does begin to head towards the other chair, that juice, but, mouth firming with pressed lips, she aborts and spins directly to face K'del a second time. Hands that were about to fiddle are folded tensely together to stop all nervous motions. "Sir Weyrleader, I appreciate your obvious manners in this matter, but let's just get to it before I explode of nerves-- it was my fault. I did it. I was selfish and I never meant to put the Weyr in an awkward place. You /know/ how seriously I take decorum and relations between our people." The curve of K'del's smile turns amused at Saliqa's reference to the whiskey, though his nod is the only confirmation he makes to it, otherwise. He's still smiling when she spins around to face him, though not for long: a frown spreads, bewilderment flushing his cheeks and narrowing his eyebrows. Not entirely without poise, however, he studies her as, finally, he says, "Why don't you sit down and explain to me exactly what's going on here, Saliqa. Afraid you've kind of got me at a disadvantage, and I'm liking what I'm hearing less and less. So. From the beginning?" A strange bit of similarly bewildered blinking puts Saliqa's determined look off her face at K'del's reaction. Her mouth opens briefly without noise and then she closes it to consider, taking the time to grab the edge of the available seat and set herself onto it. "You... that's what this was for, right? My behavior, my-- umm. Right. The beginning." Carefully, she smoothes out her skirts around her knees, watching herself perform this automatic task as a focusing maneuver. "I went back home, to Crom, as you know, and the arrangements to find me a husband came pretty quickly after that, I think they wanted to flush out all of the ba....." Her head snaps up from her own legs to K'del and she stares openly for a second. Okay. Maybe /too/ much focus. "Anyway, Haldur became my official fiancee and I-- was... /happy/. For a while." And guilty that it was only for that, as her voice and eyes betray. "It's--" K'del begins, attempting to put that in before Saliqa gets too further into her explanation. It's complicated? It's not quite like that? He doesn't continue, apparently waving the thought away in order to give Saliqa his full - and unflinching - attention. For the most part, he has no particular reactions to what she says, and even her staring only twists his mouth ruefully, something that doesn't last. When he does speak again, it's gently, "But only for a while. Then what happened, Saliqa?" "I don't know." An admission that comes slowly, with Saliqa's hands blossoming upwards to show her empty, innocent palms; she doesn't know, and she kind of hates that. But biting at her lip stomps the more vulnerable expression away and she continues again, almost clinically, "I could /be/ a wife. I'd wanted to forever. And if Haldur was..." physically unable to quite complain, she only squishes her mouth to the side indecisively and lets K'del read from that what he will, "-- The point is, I could handle it. But seeing Tai--- everybody again during the festivities, and being visited and thought about... I guess it made me think. Or, well, /not/ think. Since, we. Umm." If anything, K'del's expression indicates growing sympathy for Saliqa, though he bites back any words, and seems to be studiously (if imperfectly) attempting to school his expression into more neutral territory. He's still got his glass pressed between both hands, no doubt warming it with their heat; it's as though he's entirely forgotten that he's holding it. "It reminded you of the things that were missing?" he hazards, as she finishes, apparently not entirely sure what she's getting at. The Weyrleader's suggestion distracts Saliqa maybe from coming to her own conclusion and she mulls his over with all the deliberation it's due. Several glances go out for the bowl now, the view below, and she squints almost suspiciously at each passing figure like maybe they're gossiping about what she's saying /right now/. Finally, though, she rounds again on K'del with a vague roll of her eyes to the sky and then to him. "I thought-- I thought maybe I didn't need to rush into something I /knew/ I wanted to do, without first taking time for the things I didn't know anything about yet." K'del nods; apparently this makes complete sense to him, by some interpretation. Except; "Hadn't you already, to some point? In coming to the weyr in the first place? Being a candidate?" It's an honest question, probably, not intended to poke holes in her argument. "But-- maybe that's not the important bit. So you broke the engagement? Postponed it?" Only he doesn't seem to entirely believe that, either, an edge of wariness lingering in his tone. "Really?" Saliqa's pose relaxes some, taking confidence in the wryness of her response, "You think being sent through the wringer on my first visit and then promptly leaving taught me everything there was to know about the Weyr?" It also helps, evidenced by her shifty eyes a moment later that are unable to meet his, let her stall some on answering the really important things. "So I..." Her head tilts to the side, as if she's trying to lead herself along to answering, stringing it out as cautiously as possible, "... may have put an idea in someone's head..." The long, whistling exhale K'del makes has a hint of a 'noooo' to it, but it's barely audible, and it's all he says. He's taken to watching her intently, though, eyes seeking hers even if they are unwilling to actually meet them. Her prevarication seems to not quite be getting the point across; he shakes his head, finally, and says, firmly, "Just spit it out, Saliqa. Explain. Not going to yell at you or anything." Probably. Saliqa's cheeks puff out as she visibly runs her tongue through the inside of one, then the other, quite effectively trapping her words inside despite the tightening grip on her skirt that displays more agitation than control. As she sucks in a deep breath, her shoulders and chest puff up, attempting to give her size she'll never have -- as far as height and build go. The /chest/... slightly off-topic -- and she expresses with slightly higher pointed but otherwise unwavering calm, "You can yell at me. I want you to say you won't be too harsh to /her/." "Taikrin." Not a question. K'del lets the name hang in the air, not attaching to it positivity or negativity - just, perhaps, a certain mount of weariness. "Guess we'll have to wait and see on that one. Admit, though, tend to expect more from you." Than her. But his head tips from one side to the other, and, releasing one hand from his glass, waves it idly: continue, is the unspoken encouragement. "That wasn't your word," Saliqa reminds him, a light but timid scold as she resettles into her seat. The admonishment about expecting better seems to have put her out of sorts and all that posturing of just a moment before deflates into a position she more or less forces herself to remain composed for. "You're right," she finally says, lower lip quivering with the effort, "You're right, which is /why/ you shouldn't hold it against Taikrin so hard. /I/ knew better. I knew what she was like, and what she was prone to doing but -- but I fed that. I basically /told/ her to... take me away. From Crom." A hard swallow. "Forcibly." Silence follows. A lengthy silence, during which K'del seems to be quite unable to put words together, which is surprising, because, surely, this can't have been all that unexpected? Finally; "It never occurred to you to talk to someone about your unhappiness? Or ask for some more time? Getting Taikrin to kidnap you really seemed like your only option?" For now, at least, he /is/ focusing his attention on Saliqa's part in this. "But I wasn't /un/happy--" she starts and then stops, taking in a deep breath to make sure that she's choosing the battles that matter most. After a moment, Saliqa begins again, less defensive, "My family takes the woman's role very seriously. And so do I," a flash of that shame in her again is easy the way her eyes have widened to stem off some more physical reaction in them, "I... /understand/ that, no, with them, there would be no other option. In that way, it /was/ my only choice. But, in my excitement, I admit I let myself believe that made it the right one." K'del is, again, silent, after Saliqa speaks, though his brow is more distinctly furrowed this time - his mixture of confusion and frustration more obviously displayed. "And now you've changed your mind" he asks, simply. There's squirming, definite squirming, from Saliqa. She redoes the smoothing of her skirt, tips her head, and fixes her hair. Then, the guiltiest word that's ever come glumly, but sincerely, from her lips: ".... no." But when she's aired this, it's a tiny weight from her shoulders and she looks K'del in the eye for the first time in a while. "No, for me it was right. For the Weyr, it was terribly wrong. And I would like to make some kind of formal apology. I don't know, amends... official statement, something." K'del's gaze is there to meet hers, just as squarely, serious without, at least, being outright angry. "How long have you been here, this time?" he wants to know, suddenly, outwardly a non-sequitur, though it must no doubt have a direct link to the topic at hand inside his head. Saliqa starts to answer and the words get caught in her throat. With a polite hand cupped near her mouth, she coughs several times, and even then the words are quieter than they were before, though none more shameful than her admission of rightfulness. "Um. Since the winter festivities. The, uh... the incident with the frozen lake... day after that..." K'del is genuinely aghast by this news. "You've been here since /turnover/." He doesn't really need to count the months on his fingers, but he does: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and-- "Nearly seven months. /Seven/ months. Shells. And you've had no word from home? No one trying to track you down?" This, briefly, seems to perplex him. "There's been nothing in any of the-- no one's reported anyway." It's a bit more /detailed/ when he has says it -- probably her point in being vague -- and Saliqa winces a bit at each monthly count that he gives. Seven winces in total, and then another just because. "You mean you haven't-- either?" Her hand spreads out briefly towards him, allowed to relax from its clenched state in both their momentary bewildering, "I thought maybe you had heard and you could just claim, you know, /truthfully/ that you didn't know where I was... exactly..." But the thought, some growing unease in her is also a heartfelt distress that narrows her eyes with the crunching of her eyebrows down; she swallows. K'del's head shakes, and he admits, quietly, "That's why I was so confused to see you. Why-- kind of figured out something must be up, the way you reacted. You being here at all, even. And Taikrin. Hadn't heard a /thing/." Which obviously worries him as much as it distresses Saliqa. "Does your fian-- ex? fiance? Whatever? -- Does he have the ear of Lord Aughan at all?" The idea that /no one has bothered/ is clearly hurting Saliqa on a personal level that takes a good deal of her focus and attention to quell, leading to a delayed-- and somewhat quizzical-- response to any of K'del's inquiries. "Haldur? Umm... he's... he's inheriting land, I guess. Has some controlling say in the matter of certain resources... but no more than... anybody-- /certainly/ no more than my step-father, the Steward." At least K'del is patient, using the time Saliqa takes to process to actually take a sip from his glass, and then set it down on the table - it's about time. His short little nod is cut short in realisation: her step-father. Of course. "And there's no way your step-father would not have mentioned the issue to Lord Aughan," he surmises, frowning. "And there were witnesses? People saw who took you, and how?" This time, Saliqa actually gives a little bit of a laugh in her sheepishness, one hand coming up to swipe behind her at hair that's long grown out since they both last really /saw/ each other. In coming down, the hand finds the handle of her own glass, perhaps unconsciously prompted by K'del's own sip. By all she does is play her fingers about the stem. "I... /may/ have been yelling a bit..." "Yelling." K'del seems - /seems/, though, of course, it is increasingly hard to tell what he's really thinking - somehow amused by this, head shaking, the corners of his mouth twitching just faintly. "Of course you were. Mm. Well. What that means is... we know they know you're gone. We know they know who took you. We know-- probably, anyway-- that they think you were kidnapped. And we know that Lord Aughan probably knows." This summation is said with his gaze tipped upwards towards the sky, where the Cadejoth-dot is still circling, now playing with a couple of dark greens. "Means, I can only imagine, that your Lord is playing us." There's some timely nodding for each of the things as Saliqa follows along, able to ease her posture in the wake of this kind of more factual logic. In the meantime, she gets a better grip around the glass and gets in a good sip or two of juice. Which is all for the better because, as K'del makes his declaration, her eyebrows are immediately knitted once again. The flat, instant transformation of her face into not-so-amused signals the slow lowering of the glass onto the table. "... That would be a bit low." K'del doesn't deny this assessment of his words, but, instead, shrugs his shoulders. "Have you a better explanation? As I see it, Aughan convinces your people that-- I don't know. Something. That you're better off here. Doesn't make complete sense, but I bet a person could think of something. And then he holds on to the information in the hopes of using it against us at some point. Just... can't think of any other reason why no one would have come knocking on our doors demanding your return, else." After a moment, he adds, "Suppose he could have convinced them he'd had word you were dead." Now Saliqa's shoulders begin to tense for a completely separate reason, but she struggles the same way with maintaining neutrality. "That would be /lying/," she says purposefully, tip-toeing around the undertone of //you're accusing my Lord of//, "Perhaps they are only building a case. Want for all the facts before bringing something to you. That would be responsible. Not this... /maneuvering/ you're talking about. I mean, I'm not even--" she shakes her head and some of her hair catches loose of its holdings. That she doesn't immediately tries to fix it tells more of her upset than anything else. "I'm probably the least important person in that Hold except to my-- to my family--" Who haven't even tried to get her back... One of K'del's hands half reaches out, as though he intends to take Saliqa's hand and comfort her; he lets it fall short partway there, though, and returns it towards his knee, uncomfortably, apparently having thought better of the gesture. "I'm sorry," he tells her, softly, with enough feeling in his words to make it come across as genuine. "Really am. But it's been seven months. If you thought your daughter had been kidnapped by someone, wouldn't you try and get her back as soon as possible? Wouldn't you be worried about her safety? You wouldn't hesitate. I wouldn't." Saliqa's eyes dart anyway to that hand, though without a judgment to describe how that gesture might have been received if completed. Her gaze doesn't linger, anyway, finding any other spot while her jaw tightens. "That's what you're saying then," she declares after a long thought, a kind of loftiness filtering into her voice. But it can't be from haughtiness: not from the girl who just called her the least important person. "That's it. That my Lord, my family, and the man who would be my husband, would all rather participate in this political mumbo-jumbo than care about me." K'del shuts his eyes and swallows, presumably clearing his head, before he responds. "No," he tells her, firmly. "That's not what I'm saying. Reckon your family care about you very much. I don't /know/ what is going on, but it worries me, Saliqa." He stops, as though he's decided something, and then changes tack, "Want you to write to your family. To your mother, maybe. To tell them that you're safe and well, and are sorry for everything, but that you did what you needed to. At least they they know that you're safe. The idea--" he has a ragged breath, a long sigh. "Not knowing where someone you care about is is heartbreaking. Can't stand the idea of that continuing." He seems to know it from personal experience, even. Something heart-breaking is enough to slide Saliqa off her high-horse of emotion, but not to entirely clear her system. After lingering fingers on the table near the glass, she awards K'del a stiff but sincere nod and then attempts to push to her feet on the same note as asking permission, "If you don't mind, then. I'll just go do that now." Looking genuinely upset, though whether it's because of his own personal recollections, or because of Saliqa's stiffness, or something else entirely, K'del gives an unhappy nod. But; "Promise we'll look after you, Saliqa. It may turn into a mess, and it may be awful, but-- not going to abandon you. If Lord Aughan himself comes to claim you back, not going to let it happen, not unless you change your mind and want to go." A trace of a smile that Saliqa doesn't quite want to allow fights for time over the sweeter sentiments, but it becomes a tainted expression after. Not by bitterness, but the pleasant acceptance -- dulled -- that she's displayed so commonly in these kinds of matters. The ones of loyalty. "Thank you, Weyrleader. K'del," a sparkle of friendliness, perhaps, before that deliberation, "If Lord Aughan himself comes... /then/ I won't have a choice." And there it is. But, until then, she's free to turn away with a swishing of skirts to head towards the exit back to the caverns. "I--" says K'del, but he breaks off, never letting the thought get further. Instead, he watches after her as she goes, his brow furrowed, his shoulders slumped. Alas. |
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