Logs:Missing Knives
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| RL Date: 17 January, 2012 |
| Who: K'del, Val |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Val comes in search of her knife. K'del doesn't have it. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 10, Turn 27 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| Drizzly and grey, and not so very many days after Isyath's flight, the afternoon finds K'del working over Cadejoth's straps, which are spread out across the empty floor, along with tools and oil and extra scraps of leather. He's rolled up his sleeves to work, and pulled off his shoes-- which might not be such a smart idea, given the sharp implement he's currently working with, but go figure. Cadejoth's not in residence, having abandoned the ground for more interesting skies, further afield; the ledge is empty, but the curtain separating the two is flung wide open in welcome. Which is when one of those drudges ambles by with a pail and cloths, only this one's clothing is a little too artistically tatterered for the tidy-but-utilitarian garb that the Reaches' headwoman favors, and she doesn't actually smell stale. She /does/ have the bruises, still, that fit the stories. And she also sidles into his weyr as though, even now, she isn't /quite/ sure that she belongs. K'del doesn't hum or sing as he works, so much, just murmurs the occasional something beneath his breath, most of it unintelligible. He must be used to people wandering in and out - ah, the benefits of being Weyrleader: weyr cleaning services - because he doesn't glance up at the sound of footsteps, just keeps on working with the leather, smoothing it out beneath his metal implement. Without interrupting what he's doing, or indeed paying the woman any kind of attention, he says, idly, "Afternoon!" "Afternoon," Val more mimics than really says, not much volume to her breath. She smooths her full skirt and sits across from him, cross-legged, just sort of looking while he's just sort of working. Oh. Not a drudge. K'del glances up, cheeks briefly pink, but not enough to linger; he gives Val a crooked grin. "Is my strap repair as fascinating as all that?" he wonders, without pausing to think. A moment later, presumably after he's given Val a more intensive glance, "Shells. Your-- sorry." Face, presumably. "Me too." Val tilts her head, lets her dark hair swing in front of her eyes. A moment or two later, though, she purposefully tucks it behind her ears instead. "You doing all right, K'del? Cadejoth was sounding awfully frozen there, for a while." And has it really left him, even now? The implement gets set down, and K'del stretches out his hands, flexing fingers back and forth before resting them down upon his knees. "Iovniath's not exactly thrilled with him," he allows. "Nor Tiriana, with me. But-- we're managing." If he's lying, he's doing it relatively blithely: he's smiling, by the end of that. "Probably they'll have forgotten by the time it matters again." He's smiling, she's accepting, with only a: "Forgetting? I hope so." Almost only: "I always heard the Weyrwoman held grudges," said with an inward wrinkle of her shoulders. The brownrider looks away from his straps, off toward the ledge. While she looks, she's loosened the cloths in her lap, unfolded the coarse-weave linen against the darker, equally coarse fabric of her skirt. "That was a strange one. Maybe we should know better to chase queens." K'del doesn't even try and deny it: "She does." Even so, he doesn't sound too bothered. One hand reaches out to run fingers over the leather of his straps, though it's nothing more than an idle gesture, not really work-focused. Glancing back up, he looks back at Val, and nods. "Know we should. But-- Cadejoth likes Isyath. Always has. Hard to keep him away. It-- your nose is going to be all right, I hope?" "That must suck, being kept on a short leash," and it's not quite up to Val's usual intonation, but it's closer. Her fingers drift up towards her face without touching, her only rings of wood and bone. "Mad... the healers say it will. I just have to not sneeze the wrong way, right? I don't know he was thinking, running off with the girl like that. Well. I /do/," and the ghost of the imp wavers in and out of her expression. K'del studies Val, thoughtfully, his head tipped ever so slightly to one side. "Good," he says, idly, presumably about her nose. He's not done looking at her, either. "It was a bit-- much," he allows, then. "V'teri. As much as I saw, at any rate." He sucks in a breath, then adds, "It does, a bit. Suck, I mean. Like he's not allowed to be his own self. Like we have to-- be something specific. For them. For her." He lifts his free hand, the one not fondling the leather, and runs it through his messy curls. "You doing all right? Nose aside." "Only a bit? I'd have told Fort to keep him." Val is smiling, if only a little, her chin lifted to his scrutiny: let him look. /Her/ eyes are looking at him and then just past him, and as he continues she ducks her head without quite nodding, though that won't stop her listening. Closely. "They should give you a checklist. Unless they did?" As for herself, "I'm fine. He's better. Not like he cares, either, that that kid won Rielsath when we were away. And you got to roll the dice if you're going to play." Somewhere in there, she took off one of her rings, the lighter wood one. She winds the corner of one of the cloths through it, pausing when it sticks. Somehow, being allowed his scrutiny draws an end to it; K'del glances away. Of V'teri, he only smiles; and the rest? "A checklist. Hah. There's an idea. Something to pass on to the next guy, one day. 'Sorry dude, your dragon is only going to get laid this once for the next, like, couple of turns. Enjoy.'" He's not really serious, though, and smiles genuinely enough, even if he's looking a the ground, now, and not the brownrider. "Mm, okay. Good. So long as you are. Guess I still owe you that drink, at some point." There's a smirk right /there/, in Val's voice as well as messing with her mouth, so he doesn't have to look at all. "That's a start." Then, "So's that. Oh: and my knife." By now, her ring's back on. Her knife, though? He kind of /does/ have to look at her when she mentions that; he looks guilty for it, too. "Asked N'muir about that," he admits, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "He hadn't seen it. Said he'd look, though. If--" He makes a face, guilty. "If he doesn't find it, I'll buy you a new one. I'm so sorry. /So/ sorry." And sounds it, too. Val's face could fall, she could pout or mope or whine, but instead there's something stricken about her eyes. She doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, her voice aiming for light, "Did you drop it? Do you remember? I don't care if you stuck it in someone or something, just tell me who." Aiming for light is not /actually/ light, and K'del has not exactly missed that stricken expression, either. He takes in a deep breath, swallows it, and then-- "I'm so sorry, Val." Repetition doesn't fix it, though, and he admits, then, running his hand through his hair again, "I dropped it. I think. I'll ask Ali, too. Guess I need to apologise to her, also. We'll find it, Val. If we can possibly can, I swear it." She's nodding, but she's also focused: "What does N'muir look like? I got an impression of tall and angry, but that's not much to go by." "Dark hair," says K'del, promptly. "And he's kind of older, I guess. And-- Weyrleader's knot." K'del is not, it seems, very good at describing people. Weyrleader's knot. "Really?" Val bends a glance at K'del that's accompanied by a hand to her mouth: no kidding! And then she's laughing some, silently, and stretches enough to poke at his boot with her toe. "Don't get too fussed." Just find it. "And in the meantime..." K'del makes a face back at Val: very funny. Not, however, a /serious/ face. Instead; "I'll find it." A promise, albeit one he really has no way to keep. And in the meantime? Well - there are always other things to discuss. |
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