Logs:B'rant Apologizes
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| RL Date: 12 August, 2013 |
| Who: B'rant, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Fortian weyrling B'rant apologizes for accidentally taking part in Hraedhyth's flight. Azaylia understands. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 6, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated, because work wants to eat my soul. |
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| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. The scent of an ancient forest, the sounds of animals and moving vegetation stroked by whispering winds characterize Rhenth's reach for Hraedhyth's mind, the search pointed but polite. Once he finds the Senior, a deep, smooth bass rumbles in mellifluous fashion, « We wish to apologize to you both, Hraedhyth. Does your... » Beat. « ...Azaylia have a few moments to meet with my B'rant? » (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) Hraedhyth's flames burn hot, protective, but only for a moment at the touch of an outsider. Foreigner. But then the fire pulls back, content to flicker at the border of those trees, circled by a calming sand. « Apologize. » Not quite a question, but the curiosity is there in her low growl. Her constant drums seem further away for a moment, concealing a private conference until... « Yes. Mine is in den where there is no longer bickering. » She shares an image of the council chambers. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) He might feel a bit of faint concern for being thought of as an 'outsider,' but globally-thinking Rhenth finally figures out this is simply the gold being protective of her people at 'Reaches -- as she should -- and the bronze offers her a warm and bright image and sensation of what he cannot help but pick up from the queen's own mind. Whatever is currently her most wonderful memory of a former experience, whether the Impression of her Azaylia, a day at the beach...whatever it is, it's flawlessly mirrored back to her. Scent, sound, taste, feeling, sight; all of those are incorporated into Rhenth's very personal greeting for her, the weyrling then rumbling a soft hint of laughter at the image of a council room /not/ filled with bickering. « We come. Thank You. » (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) Warrior's instinct leads the queen to be wary of such offered comforts, the mimicry causing the tips of her flames to sharpen. At the ready. Though, what Rhenth offers is pleasant, and she accepts it with gratitude-- despite the lingering suspicion. Her much more... accomodating nature is gone, Flight-induced as it was, but she is not a rude hostess. She invites him to join her by the lake while their riders talk, spot empty of her mate as he is off doing his duty to the Weyr. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) Rhenth sadly gets enough of that wariness from others when his naturally-open, very candid means of communication is offered, but the bronze is old enough now to not feel saddened or upset at such 'rebuffs.' Instead, he rumbles a hint of reassurance of his good intentions to Hraedhyth, and then withdraws. Within the next 8 minutes, he's dropping his lifemate off outside the Weyrleader's section of the Weyr, then flinging himself up again to join the the gold at lakeside. While the Fortian bronze is pleasant and cordial -- maybe almost paternal-feeling -- B'rant is more the uptight teen doing his damndest to project a Lord's confidence and easy manner as he clears his throat outside of whatever hangings might exist, then pushing them aside to pace into the coridoor, and then into the Chamber itself. After he's landed, and undulated his long neck to her in greeting, « Good day, Hraedhyth. I'm sorry for... » Plucked from his 'rider's mind is the whirling image of the beginning of her former Flight, Rhenth's ascent to follow her. His embarrassment is pretty much B'rant's own emotion as the bronze rumbles, « We did not come with such intentions. » It was a message delivery turned 'wrong.' (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) Luckily by the time B'rant arrives, Azaylia is finishing up a quick discussion with the Headwoman. It suits them both, as Giorda is able to get a timely answer out of the goldrider, while also bringing up refreshments for their Fortian guest. "Thank you." The Weyrwoman's gratitude is all too genuine as the older, shorter woman leaves, no doubt inspecting B'rant on her way out. Azaylia stands, smoothing hands over her skirt as she walks around the table, undoing the possible faux-pas of sitting in the Weyrleader's chair. "B'rant, is it? Our duties to Fort and her Weyrleaders. Can I get you something to drink?" The queen is busy sunning herself, taking up a good chunk of the lake's beach with little guilt. Her tribe is always welcome to join her, just as Rhenth is. Lifting her pale head, her eyes glitter calmly at the younger bronze, hinting at amethyst at his shared memory. Oh. That. Mm. « You show regret because you are not of my tribe. » Just so she understands it. « You did not mean to show such disrespect. » And so, as far as Hraedhyth is concerned, he has not. « You are forgiven. » For something she clearly doesn't remember herself. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) One never knows how VIPs will react, even after hearing of them from afar, so when Azaylia greets him so pleasantly, B'rant wilts some in relief inside, then recovering with a crisp salute to the Weyrwoman, followed by a pleasant baritone, "Yes, ma'am. Only if it's not inconvenient for you, ma'am." He's still rather nervous, though, and such is noticeable in gray eyes. Rhenth does his best to curl up tightly so as to allow Hraedhyth to continue doing so with her beach, but the bronze is large, so things might get a bit crowded, though he tries not to touch her, as such contact might be unseemly. « Yes. We didn't hear that... » non-tribe members weren't wanted. Or they would've stayed away, of course. « We thank you. » Ahh, relief. /His/ part of their duty done, the Fortian simply lets go of such 'minor' inconveniences, and hums very softly to himself as he too takes in the sun's rays. Still... « How are you feeling, these days? » (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) The salute inspires a small smile, but it's his multiple 'ma'ams' that have Azaylia giving a soft laugh, "Azaylia is fine." She's come to realize now that formality is a way of life for some, so she offers an alternative, "Or, Weyrwoman. Whichever you're comfortable with." Turning around to lead him to a seat, she stops to pour him a tall glass of lemonade, setting it down before returning to the head of the table. He'll be close, sitting at the right of her as she gathers up some paperwork, "I have a feeling I know what this is about. But, why don't you tell me." That smile takes on a knowing quirk. Hraedhyth is having none of that. Once Rhenth is comfortable she'll rise enough to teeter and flump against the foreign bronze, claiming his body heat while sharing her own sun-warmed hide. « All is well. » Her drums echo the words spoken to her so, so, so long ago, clung to despite a limited memory. « I am well. There will be eggs. » Not that she's showing, only a week after the Fortian's indiscretion. « And you? Yours? » How are they? (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) "Whatever you like, ma'... We..." Sigh. "/Azaylia/." For just a fraction of a moment, there's both frustration at his own nervous ineptness and humor at the situation upon the tall young man's features -- in his voice -- but it's quickly whisked away as B'rant follows the taller woman to the seat she offers, accepting that glass of lemonade with an easy, "Thank you," after he sits down. Noting that paperwork of hers, "I won't keep you but a few moments, I promise." He's seen how busy the folks leading a Weyr can be. With the goldrider's words comes a faint ducking of his head, then a purposeful straightening of his person again as the bronzling tries to face this with diplomacy and grace. "Both Rhenth and I want to apologize for...unintentionally invading your...uhm, Flight a seven ago." Squirm...stop that, B'rant. Gray eyes try to hold the Weyrwoman's dark gaze firmly, and achieve about 90 percent success. "He just started...chasing not even a pair of sevens before that." She's wanting some company? That's certainly not like Elaruth...but Rhenth rolls with it, uncurling enough to support Hraedhyth's splay while they enjoy each others' contact and warmth. Another very soft round of humming might be felt by her through his body. « Wonderful! » the Fortian notes with honest enjoyment, though when the gold speaks of her upcoming eggs, the bronze can't help but wiggling with pleasure. Really? « That is excellent! » he nearly croons in anticipatory delight. « How many, do you think? Are you unhappy with having to guard them all the time? » The way he talks about them makes those eggs almost sound as if they're already laid! « We are getting better, now. » Now that Fort's Weyrlingmasters and 'leaders will be sated by an accepted apology. (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) As B'rant speaks, Azaylia tries to bite back that smile, a confident contrast to his strained formality. When it's 'her turn', she straightens up in her seat and clears her throat, airy voice rather gentle, "The Weyr appreciates your apology, and I realize you didn't mean to be here for the Flight. Nothing bad happened, so I can't find much of a reason to be angry at Rhenth doing what bronzes do best." At least in an interval. The Weyrwoman has little trouble holding his gaze, still smiling as she teases, "Now, if it keeps happening... I'll find that a little hard to believe." Rhenth's excitement is unusual but not unwanted, though Hraedhyth is one who firmly believes that eggs are a female's business. « I do not know. It was a... long flight. » She remarks with some lingering pleasure and pride. Her smoke reaches out, seeking Tsanth and still finding him away. Her intense focus settles on the younger bronze once more, a very obvious place holder but one that's certainly appreciated. « There should be many. And it is my duty to guard them. I am happy to do it. » Not that the ferocious beast she becomes while on the sands would lead one to believe that. « I am glad you are getting better. » (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) Well then; since Azaylia seems to be taking this well enough, B'rant begins to loosen up some, too, the teen actually sipping from his glass of lemonade for some moments while he listens to the 'Reachian speak. Nodding at times to show that he's attending her words, the weyrling finally murmurs an only slightly chagrined, "That's what I tried telling the Weyrlingmasters." But, of course, they'd have none of it, even if it was the truth. To her latter, "I assure you that it won't, ma'am." Pause, smile. "Well, unless your Junior makes it well-known that she would enjoy having a foreigner attending one of her flights." It's the humor angle, though it's a hint strained. Not much, really. "We... uh...don't really feel like being Weyrleader." Yet. Unusual? Well...yes, enough others think so, and so -- to show he means well -- Rhenth plucks various memories from B'rant's mind to show her: Rhenth helping guard Isyath's eggs from the lowest hatching ledge perch while she and her mate did so on the Sands below. Still, the bronze is quite paternal, and he apologizes to nobody about such, even now fanning his wings just a little at the gold's words of many hopeful eggs. « Wonderful! » Sigh. « Isyath's Ali says that she thinks I will make a very good sire, someday. I /know/ I will. » Unshakeable faith colors his suddenly sunny ocean, a splash of salty spray dashing the mental air. Perhaps a bit forward: « /If/ you ever need any aid in guarding, you or Tsanth can count on my aid. » (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) The humor is still strained as Azaylia offers, "I believe my junior is only interested in one Fortian." And it isn't B'rant. She gives a soft nod, reaching to refill her almost empty glass, taking a sip before she continues. "I can understand why your Weyrlingmasters wanted you to apologize. Another weyrwoman, junior or senior, might have been very angry..." But she isn't one of them. B'rant's last words earn him a long look, much like the Headwoman's early inspection. "You're still very young. Then again, our Weyrleader for a time was 17 when he first caught the Senior." A cautionary tale, or encouragement? Hreadhyth gives a low husk of amusement, a growl that shifts into a guttural hum, « I agree with Isyath's. » And so, she is also agreeing with Rhenth. There's a spark and her flames curl tighter, protective around the very idea of eggs. Already they are guarded by ferocious fire and a nuturing sand not of her mindscape. « That will not be necessary. » But, « I... thank you for the offer. » Pat pat. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) B'rant's had enough (former) lord 'training' to recognize tension when he hears it, and the weyrling simply bobs his head and lets that one pass behind a sip of lemonade. Once Azaylia's done speaking again, the tall young man offers a bit of a wry expression and a definite nod. "Honestly, I was expecting to have to take my head back on a platter to present to them..." And thank sweet Faranth's toes that he doesn't! "You're very understanding of a youthful bronze's...predilections, Azaylia. Again, Rhenth and I thank you." There's a little obvious relief in his baritone. A thoughtful look at word of that former Weyrleader soon is followed by a murmured, "K'del, correct? I've...heard his name a few times before." Head shake. "Ugh... no thank you. As you said, we're still young. If such happens, there's all the time in the world for it." That's youth speaking, though Azaylia doesn't appear to have too many more Turns on /her/, either. Finishing his lemonade with smooth, though hefty sips, the tall young man is soon rising, and executing a deep and polished bow to the Weyrwoman, rising back up with an honest, winning smile. "I'm afraid I need to be going, now. I said I wouldn't take long...and the execution squad is expecting me back within a half hour, or else." There's nothing like youthful over-enthusiasm to tire out even the relatively young! « Some day... » Rhenth rumble-croons in agreement with the gold, his trees bobbing their crowns in utter agreement with Hraedhyth's curl of fire about those 'eggs.' « You're welcome. » Oh! « We need to go, now. » Because 'they' will get anxious that another wayward flight might've taken up Rhenth's concentration. Rumble-laugh. « You've been beyond kind. Thank you again for sharing your home with us. » And talk about those precious eggs! (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) "If I'm not understanding when someone makes a mistake, how can I expect the same when I make them?" Not if, but when. It speaks of those scant few years she has on him, and how very new she is to her rank. "You and Rhenth are very welcome. Here," Azaylia takes the time to pluck up a baby blue bit of parchment, writing in floral cursive and signing it. "A note, just in case your Weyrlingmasters aren't satisfied." It's a simple message: High Reaches Weyr recognizes and accepts the apology of B'rant, rider of bronze Rhenth. Their behavoir spoke well of Fort Weyr. After she's done, she rises to hand him the expensive paper, "K'del, yes. He's now a Wingsecond, and is happy for it-- that's what I hear, at least." With another laugh, "We won't keep you. Clear skies, B'rant." Rhenth's sudden need to leave isn't exactly a relief, but Hraedhyth's flames slowly begin to relax, spreading comfortably once more. « Fly well. » And perhaps her early quickening prompts a maternal, « Tell me once you arrive home safely. » Who knows what could happen to the bronze between 'Reaches and Fort. Even with Between-- or especially. « You are welcome, Rhenth. » She'll send him off with a savage roar of a fairwell, once he's up in the skies above. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth) Her words clearly delight and impress B'rant, for the tall weyrling is smiling sunnily, his gray eyes full of much more positive emotion than when he entered. "If only more people were like that..." Sigh. And then comes that note, and B'rant's faint lifting of a brow in small amazement, the parchment accepted, and rolled up...soon carefully tucked into a breast pocket at riding jacket. "Madame, it was a distinct pleasure meeting you. Your Weyrleader and 'Reaches herself are quite fortunate to have you at the helm." Grinning almost saucily, then offering her the closing, crisp salute that Fort demands of all its weyrlings, the young man adds, "You and your Hraedhyth have a very pleasant day. Thanks again for your understanding and hospitality." And swiftly, upon long legs he recedes, leaving the goldrider to her surely much enjoyed paperwork. Kids! Well, not for much longer, but... « I will... » Rhenth promises in bass honesty. « Enjoy the sun, Hraedhyth. » And off he steps, then finally alights for a long glide over towards the Weyrleaders' ledges to scoop up his relieved lifemate, and take them home. (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth) |
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