Logs:Coping And Choices
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| RL Date: 18 June, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del doesn't really do much to clear things up for W'chek, though he tries. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 13, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'thei/Mentions |
| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. Dinner is in full swing in the Snowasis, most people enjoying the standard fare from the living caverns, but in the more festive - which is to say, loud, and alcohol-driven - atmosphere of the bar. K'del is one of these, though he's less festive than most, except for the half-empty beer glass beside him; he's working while he eats, and spending far more of his attention on the papers he's reading through than his food, which is steadily getting less and less appetising. His seat is off in one of the nooks, though it's one of the more visible ones, and, for the moment, he's quite alone. The thing about the Snowasis at the dinner hour is that it's busy. But the thing about the living cavern at the dinner hour is that it's also busy. And full of people W'chek has no interest in seeing today--his family, say. Or his fellow weyrlings. So this particular weyrling has ended up here instead for, if not quiet, at least some relative peace. Food and a nonalcoholic beverage of some sort acquired, he has to set out looking for a table, and that's a little tougher than it looks today. All that scouting around means eyes settling on a particular face and a particular mostly-empty nook. "Weyrleader." Tone formal. And... resentful, already, somehow. "You mind? Not a lot of empty space." Holding up the plate, indicating the other side of that table. K'del must have missed the resentful, so wrapped up in his own work, because the smile he provides to the weyrling, not to mention the words that follow, are nothing short of genuinely warm: "Of course, W'chek, take a seat. Seems like most people are crowding to avoid sitting with me, for the most part." Which is at least some indication that he's not been entirely lost to the world, regardless of how he looks. Which doesn't, then, explain the warmth. Maybe he's just oblivious. He clears some room, pulling his plate closer, and picks up his fork, finally, to spear a piece of greens; head tilting to the side, so as to let him glance at W'chek, he adds, "Haven't caught you much lately. But: how're things going?" Plate set down, W'chek slides into the seat across, but he doesn't attack the food with any kind of relish. Or at all. "Oh. Uh. Going. I guess." That's one way to put it. No progress whatsoever on his academics, generally surly to most anybody who talks to him, that much certainly would have been noted. "Not so hot at this--stuff," he manages to admit, although it's obviously a strugge getting it out. Not so much in terms of a revelation, but just in terms of being conversational. "But, you know, it goes." K'del /must/ be keeping up with the progress of the weyrlings in general, because he raises his eyebrows, and finally, begins to nod very slowly along with the admission the weyrling makes. He takes his time before responding, chewing idly on his mouthful of greens before he puts in, "But, of course, you're working hard, to make up for it." Pause. "Right?" There's a hint of amusement around the edges of his face - the corners of his eyes, the slight upturn of his mouth. And then, "The math was my failing. Never been much of a fan. History and all that? Great, liked it a lot." "Uh." Yeah, that's a confidence-inspiring noise. W'chek pokes at his food with his fork and then almost seems to forget it exists. "Sure. Hard at work. Right." A foot taps beneath the table, but not terribly audible over the sound of the rest of the crowd. "Not a big fan of academic stuff in general. K'ndro, now. Flunks all of it and now he's walking around with his nose in a book all the time like he's loving it. And half the *rest* of the weyrlings swarming around him making up *quizzes* and stuff. Who the hell *does* that? If I wanted to study, I'd have taken a craft." K'del's face says 'mm-hmm', even though his mouth doesn't. "K'ndro, evidently. Plenty of people like learning. And it's all important knowledge to have. Still, all you have to do is /pass/. And... won't be much longer before you're doing more interesting things, right? Gliding. Things like that. Suppose you are finding /some/ things at least a little bit interesting, right?" Right? He scoops another forkful of food towards his mouth, and chews, all eyes on W'chek as he awaits an answer. A reluctant nod. "Gliding. Sure. Yeah. Zhikath's looking forward to that. Although I dunno, with this weather it almost seems dangerous. So many days windy or icy or worse." W'chek's fingers tap idly on the edge of the table, and he finally manages to take a bite of his dinner, although it takes him unreasonably long to chew and actually swallow it. "Not sure interesting is what I'd call it. I do what I have to do. Zhikath's doing well." Helps, of course, that the dragon applies himself where the rider does not. "I don't think I'm cut out for... any of it." By this point, K'del is beginning to look - well, baffled is maybe the wrong word. But surprised, maybe. Disbelieving. "So, basically, there is absolutely nothing you like about being a rider?" he concludes, finally, putting his fork down and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "Fuck, W'chek, that's pretty dumb. Are you just... determined to be miserable, or something?" W'chek should bristle. Or frown. Or say something besides, "Evidently." This may be a question he gets a reasonable amount lately. "Zhikath. Of course, him. But it's *here*. All of this business about--K'ndro going on about how we're going to need to learn *politics* and shit? Just in case. Right." Fork gets pushed around the plate a bit. "But, not much to do about it anyway. N'thei says shut up and do what I'm told. Great advice-giver, him. I didn't ask for a bronze. Didn't even ask for a dragon." K'del's nod allows for Zhikath - of course - but his expression is otherwise a mixture of distaste and mystification as w'chek goes on. "Reckon I thought I'd be Weyrleader six months after I graduated?" he asks. "Iovniath won't rise again for a while, but it'll be after Zhikath's old enough to chase. K'ndro has the right kind of idea: have to be /prepared/. N'thei's--" Something that K'del isn't going to say. He pauses, breathes. "Going to have to get used to it, W'chek. May not have asked for it, but you have it - that won't change. So." "N'thei is a bastard." There, W'chek will say it. "Shouldn't say that. Insult to his mother, who probably doesn't deserve it." He picks the fork up off the plate and turns it over in his fingers. Still not doing a lot of eating, there. "Heard how *you* ended up Weyrleader. You planning on pulling something like that to get out of it again?" A tap of the tines on the edge of the plate. "Whole life's like that. Never asked for anything but simple. And it doesn't seem like I'm allowed to have simple. Just a nice life with my girl. That's all I wanted." Actually, K'del doesn't visibly agree with the assessment of N'thei, looking almost thoughtful more than anything, though he doesn't say anything of it. "Potentially just going to leave the weyr for a few days," he says, shrugging, though he doesn't sound convinced of it. "Don't know. Cadejoth's pretty-- besotted. Still. Not that that's a reason to stick around." He takes a long, low breath before he continues, picking up his glass and turning it about in his hand: "No reason why you can't. Eventually. Bronzerider or no. Don't need to aspire towards leadership, don't need to try and stand out. But you /do/ need to be a capable rider, and do your job. Beyond that? /I/ don't give a flying fuck." Beat. "Rather my riders were happy, though." "Do what you're told. It's not much of a *job*, is it?" W'chek sounds less musing and more accusatory, like this is somehow K'del's fault personally, no matter how little sense that makes. "Everybody always saying to do *something* and they always will be. It's not going to stop. There's no way to just tell everybody to go away and leave me alone for... however long." More tapping of the fork. "Does he? N'thei. Do what he's told. By you." A more acute interest in the question in the furrowed brow than the subject matter would seem to imply. "Like you didn't do what you were told back at home," retorts K'del, edging up his own tone so that he, too, sounds accusing. "That's what people do. In life. In general. You'll fly sweeps, and do drills, and run messages, and probably all kinds of other things, because we're aiming for more self-sufficiency... that /is/ a job." So there? The question, he comes back to a few moments later, having taken a sip from his glass, and then set it back down on the table. "He's not in my wing. Generally, don't actually have much to do with him." Silent for just a moment. "If I did what I was told at home, I wouldn't be here," W'chek points out in a more even voice. "As I have been reminded repeatedly in recent days. Though I think my stepmother's growing on this whole... Weyr idea. Least insofar as she might someday be able to claim to be my mother if I turn out important." A bit of a snort, there. But then, back to the more immediately important subject: "You ever had cause to just tell him to do something? Even just once? He jump to?" Despite the general tone of the conversation, K'del twists his lips into an outright rueful smile for mention of W'chek's stepmother. "Because a High Reaches Weyr bronzerider is, of course, not at all important. Must drive you mad, though, that kind of attitude." And he sounds, at least briefly, genuinely empathetic for it. "Never had to. No. What're you driving at, W'chek? You think he would, or he wouldn't?" "My stepmother's still trading on blood ties three generations back to get the neighbors to think she's important," admits W'chek with a bit of an actual chuckle. More sober: "Don't think I even register to her other than that." He manages to do some actual eating, then, only because it provides a convenient excuse for not answering the question right away. "Don't know if I think he would or wouldn't. He said he would. But then, he put it like he already did. Wasn't sure that'd ever been *tested*, precisely." K'del's lips part into another smile, outright amused, at further mention of W'chek's stepmother, but what he says doesn't actually come out until the bronzerider has finished talking; at that point, he notes, "He probably does do things I've told him to, but indirectly. The whole weyr does, ultimately - well, the riders, anyway. He was involved in our foiling of one of the raids, and that was all under my orders. Riders are used to doing what they're told, W'chek. Chain of command, all that." He turns his glass on the table, idly, whilst considering the weyrling. "Your orders." Yeah, that basically puts W'chek's eyebrows somewhere about the level of his hairline, but after that he lets it be. "Chain of command." Like there's some kind of echo in here or something. "Interesting." Not that he sounds *particularly* interested. Or maybe he's just riveted, and that's why he's managed to make it this far without even finishing half of his dinner. "How do you cope? Not being able to choose. Having had everything just decided for you." And here we are, at the crux of the matter. K'del's nod punctuates each of W'chek's repetitions: yes, yes, yes. /He/ seems to find it interesting enough. Once he's done that, though, he pauses, and this time, he's outright staring at the other young man. "You mean, having had everything just decided for you, by Impressing? Reckon you'll find that people /do/ choose that. Choose to say yes to Search in the first place. Different wings have different duties, too, so you can choose what kind of work you do, to some point. A bit. Shells... there's so many options as a rider, W'chek. Not like during the Pass. There's potential for so much freedom. Sorry, but I love my life; I don't see any of it as a burden." Except, you know, the Weyrleadership... probably. Faint smile. But--false, nothing there behind it anymore. "Yeah. Heard some tell of how much you're enjoying it." W'chek knocks on the table twice and then pulls himself up again, taking his nearly-full plate with him, looking down at it like he's almost surprised by how much it still holds. "Best leave you to your work. Weyrleader. Was nice to talk to you. Thanks." Polite. He's at least managing that much. Bland, aside from the eyebrows he raises, K'del considers W'chek, drawing his lips in. "Do you have a pr--" But he doesn't finish. "You're welcome, W'chek. Have a good evening." He sounds distinctly grumpy, despite the politeness of his words; certainly, his gaze has narrowed further. For a second, W'chek *almost* seems ready to launch into the answer to the problem unasked, but in the end, it's just: "You, too." And then he's off, dumping the leftovers in with the dirty dishes and making for the windy world outside once again. Which leaves K'del to stare after him, moodily. It's been a bad couple of days, and this? Oh, teenage angst.
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