Logs:A Warm Welcome Home
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| RL Date: 20 March, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana's just gotten back from Ierne, and wants to know how Satiet is. K'del might not be the best person to ask. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 4, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
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| It's damp enough, if not outright wet, that the lakeshore is not particularly busy, this late afternoon. There are a few children playing catch, a dragon indulging in the frigid water, and his rider, sitting cross-legged on the land bridge and trying to dodge the occasional splash sent in his direction. K'del doesn't seem to have been all that successful in this, given the dampness of his jacket, but he seems to be enjoying himself regardless, a broad grin of pleasure set upon his face. "Cadejoth! I'll catch cold." After a month of quiet while Tiriana's away, Iovniath is perhaps not a welcome sight returning to the weyr. But after arriving back just earlier that day, the young gold seems intent on reacquainting herself with her Weyr; and Iovniath glides from her ledge toward the lake, to land just in the shallows, near Cadejoth without being in easy splashing range. Tiriana follows in her shadow, a few yards behind. Cadejoth may be having more fun than any dragon should ever be entitled to, but that can only, surely, be magnified by Iovniath's presence, which catches his attention from the moment she's visible above her ledge. Not, of course, that the splashing ceases. What a day! He rumbles a warm greeting, exuberant, as K'del hastily gets to his feet, turning his head about to watch Tiriana's approach. "They let you come back after all," he says, in lieu of a greeting. Milder but still welcoming, Iovniath warbles back to Cadejoth as she minces her way toward the deeper water, still staying away from stray waves as best she can. Tiriana is less concerned with them, though her steps are almost as careful as she gets into the muck and sand around the water's edge. "Of course they did," she says, waspish already as she looks up and finds the bronze and the boy there. "That was never in question." /Man/. Not boy. Not that K'del looks anything but boyish, given the satisfied, smirky grin on his face, no doubt a reaction to Tiriana's waspishness. "So they claimed - to you, at least. It was lovely here, without you. Very peaceful. Sure Ierne's glad to see the back of you, though." He wipes mud off his trousers, then folds his arms in front of him, looking really very pleased with himself. As Iovniath begins to make her way deeper into the lake, Cadejoth stills his wave-making; anything for her. Though her voice is as cool as ever, it's gracious, mist sliding around the bronze's mind, weaving around those holes in chain-links as the water stills. « Cadejoth. » (Iovniath to Cadejoth) To Iovniath, Cadejoth's mind is full of the sensation of water, though tempered, now, by that cool mist. His chains seek to play with it, an unconscious gesture marked with pure pleasure, twisting this way and that. « Iovniath! Welcome home. The ice melted while you were away; do you see? How was Ierne? » "Wishful thinking, if you heard otherwise," which is possibly not the best defense, but it's the only thing Tiriana's got. Her mouth settles into a frown, but her expression is more tired than anything; must be all that jet-lag. Still, "And Ierne was very sorry to see me go. They loved having me back--you know my family runs that entire place, don't you." K'del tilts his head to the side, focusing a blandly amused expression on the goldrider. "Wonder why they didn't offer to take you, instead of the Reaches, then," he retorts, managing to keep his tone more musing than outright antagonistic, though that is certainly the intent. "Or why you didn't ask to stay, this time around. Must've been a great visit. Back in the bosom of your family and all. And tough to leave." "A visit, maybe," says Tiriana, her boots squelching in the mud as she steps out closer to the water again. Iovniath, now that the surface is quieter, is sinking down into the cool water with a pleased croon. Her rider, though, is nearly matter-of-fact: "They'd have kept me, all of them--even the Weyrwoman, and I'm not actually related to /her/. It's not my home, though, and anyway, the Reaches needs us." "Managed beautifully without you, though," retorts K'del, smiling winsomely, now. "But if you'd like to believe that, won't stop you." He unwraps his arms, and crouches, letting his fingertips trail over the surface of the lake, though his attention remains upon Tiriana throughout. "Reckon your absence will've made Satiet fond of you again? They /do/ say absence makes the heart grow fonder." He actually seems genuinely curious about this. Cadejoth's bleat is significantly less dignified than Iovniath's croon, and so is his paddling about - but he's doing his best not to disrupt the water /too/ much. It's just... well, his tail needs to wiggle. A little. Maybe a lot. To Cadejoth, Iovniath projects, « Yes, I see, » and sadness tempers the pure white glow of Iovniath's mind, while she reconstructs the ice within it, a pale echo of the winter that's fading now. « Ierne was--warm. Do you know, the seasons are backwards there; it's nearly fall? I am glad to be home now. And you, Cadejoth? How are you and yours? » Iovniath tolerates that lashing tail with typical politness, indulging the younger bronze's antics though she's far more stately herself. And Tiriana slants a look back at K'del as she stops at water's edge. Her mouth tightens up, but whatever that first, hot response might be, she bites it back in favor of a curt, "Maybe. It might." Pause. More guardedly, "How is she?" To Iovniath, Cadejoth, in an obvious attempt to be conciliatory, shares an image of a glacier, all ice and snow, and notes, « Yyth showed me this place, where there is always ice. You can slide on it, and it won't melt! » He is curious, for this idea of backwards seasons, examining the idea like a child with a globe, turning it upsidedown, then righting it again, quizzical. « How peculiar! I suppose that means it's always cold, somewhere, right? I'm glad you're home. It's nice to be home. We're good! Really good. » Eventually, Cadejoth stills again, albeit not for very long, contenting himself instead with long sweeps of his head. Since it is not beneath the water, that, at least, causes fewer fluctuations in the steadiness of the lake. K'del's hesitation before responding to the question goes on for a little longer than might be polite; he swallows, opens his mouth, and, finally, shrugs. "Don't see her much, myself, but Milani's worried about her. And apparently she's been canceling meetings and stuff. You haven't seen her yet?" Now Tiriana shrugs. "Not for long," she answers, blustery. "Anyway, I haven't been here for a month, you think I know everything that's been going on? Faranth, Iovniath can barely keep up with any of it, and you expect me to? --Milani is?" K'del, who was at least /trying/ to be genuine and news-bringery, makes a face, and then shrugs his shoulders again. "Sure, whatever. Not trying to argue with you or anything, Tiriana. And yes, Milani's worried." To Cadejoth, Iovniath projects, « If a dragon could arch a brow, Iovniath would be doing so: it's all there, in her dryly amused tone. « Did Yyth, » she remarks. « And, yes, I suppose that's true. It will be summer here and winter there soon. But even so, I should rather be here, at High Reaches, than there. » » Tiriana points out, "You're always trying to argue with me." She ignores the mention of Milani now, more focused on resurrecting the old antagonism. So much for bonding over shared concern for Satiet. "Getting uppity, like you're somehow on my level? I'm still a junior weyrwoman, you know." There's a note of confusion, and perhaps apprehension, given Iovniath's patently obvious reaction to his words; Cadejoth responds carefully, if, indeed, he is ever /especially/ careful, to note, « She did. She's very good like that, sometimes. She always has interesting places to show me. She's fun. » He is more comfortable, and, indeed, ultimately satisfied with, the rest of what she has to say: « High Reaches is home. I like it here, too. And I like the way the little ones play on me, when it's hot outside; I love all the seasons we have here! » (Cadejoth to Iovniath) "/Wasn't/, this time," argues K'del, sounding petulant, and digging his hands back into his pockets as he draws himself to his full height. "My mistake. I forgot the enormous chasm between us that prohibits me from addressing you like I would anyone else. Thank you for the reminder. Never make the same mistake." Oh, the sarcasm. Letting Yyth fade from thought so casually, Iovniath buries that subject under much snow, and ice to rival that glacier. « The little ones? » she wonders instead, and projects onto that glass-smooth surface the children playing around the lake. (Iovniath to Cadejoth) To Iovniath, Cadejoth barely seems to notice Yyth's burial, instead latching immediately upon that other topic, bubbling with enthusiasm. « Like those ones! » he agrees, adjusting the image so as to show himself, in the lake, with the children climbing and diving off of his limbs and tail. Fun! "Good," snaps Tiriana. "You just do that, then." And if that weren't childish enough, she kicks her feet in the lakeshore sludge, stuffs her hands down in her pockets. Still, her curiosity won't let her keep it up, even if it is K'del. So, at length: "Just what did Milani say?" To Cadejoth, Iovniath projects, « Like that? » It surprises Iovniath, the idea of it, but then again, this /is/ Cadejoth they're talking about. Bemused, « You are fond of them, then; the humans' children. I prefer our own kind's. » » "Of course, Weyrwoman," returns K'del as smoothly as he can, which isn't very, since his face keeps threatening to break into a smile and, eventually, right about the point at which she asks about Milani, actually does. Except that a return to that subject quickly takes it away again, and he lifts a hand to rub at his hair instead, drawing his lips in tightly. "That she was really worried. That she thought Satiet looked frail, and she was concerned that something was wrong with her. That kind of thing." To Iovniath, Cadejoth adds in the sun dappling the water of the lake, and the thrill of the cold water, splashing, splashing, splashing. « Like that, » he agrees, reluctantly dispelling the image. « I do! They give me scratches sometimes, too, and I like that a /lot/, though K'del says it's undignified. » He pauses, then adds, « I haven't really seen any of our own kind, I think. Or if I did, I forgot. Are they fun to play with, too? » Unfortunately, the timing of that smile leaves Tiriana's expression darkening. Even if it does vanish again just as fast, she's already turning away by then, giving the dragons in the water a hateful look. "And you just laugh," she accuses. "She's sick, maybe dying, and you just want to stand there and smile. Takes a real bastard." K'del's expression sours altogether. "And you want to stand around and be unpleasant to everyone. I'm sure that's giving her great pleasure, if she /is/ dying. Then again, can't imagine having to leave her knot to you would give anyone any pleasure." There's a sharp exhalation of breath as he gets to the end of this diatribe, as if he is now certain that he /has/ crossed a line, instead of just inadvertently smiling at the wrong time. To Cadejoth, Iovniath projects, « The conversation on the lakeshore somewhat dims Iovniath's whiteness, her attention distracted by her own rider and his. « Ah. No, I suppose you haven't, » she tells Cadejoth. « Yours was the last clutch here, after all. » Silence, then: the cold quiet of winter nights, when the world's frozen over. « We are under stress now, » she says; and if the words are, superficially, an apology for her rider's behavior, the icy condemnation for his own is still palpable underneath. » Quietly, with a note of aching unhappiness, no doubt in part thanks to her condemnation of his rider, and equally in part to her own reaction, Cadejoth agrees: « It was. But perhaps there will be some little ones to enjoy soon. » It falls sort of flat, and he lets it, instead noting, « I am sorry for my rider. He is-- » He doesn't have the words, but shares the emotions, instead: frustrated, annoyed, upset. « He worries. And then he says the wrong thing. I wish they wouldn't snipe so. » (Cadejoth to Iovniath) "No. Just to you," Tiriana snipes in return, but it's somewhat lacking in its usual force. She's stiff, nearly to the point of shaking, but with a deep breath, she settles for a, "We're going in. Goodnight," cold enough to do her dragon proud. "So good to be home--really appreciate the warm welcome back." K'del opens his mouth, with the obvious intent of saying /something/, good or bad, but shuts it again a moment later, shrugging his shoulders in frustrated resignation. "There's no point even trying with you," is what he does say, a few moments later, as he begins to cross the land bridge back towards the lakeshore, though not in an obvious attempt to follow her. "Good night. Welcome home. Whatever." Any other night, any other subject; maybe Iovniath would be mollified. But Cadejoth's attempts at optimism tonight only harden her mind, silvered glass to close him out. « Yes, perhaps. Goodnight, Cadejoth. » And his name, now, holds little of that fondness with which she greeted him. (Iovniath to Cadejoth) |
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