Logs:Mortally Offended
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| RL Date: 22 November, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Bri party-crashes. There is discussion and dancing, until she goes pissing someone (R'hin) off again. She's getting really good at that. |
| Where: Beach, Monaco Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 4, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Oriane/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
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| Beach, Monaco Weyr It's a pleasantly warm afternoon, and the beach of Monaco Weyr is currently home to what seems to be a rather well-planned beach party. While Iesaryth might endure a politely cool reception from the watch dragon when she appears over the skies of Monaco, she certainly isn't challenged at all -- even if the attention of the watch dragon lingers. The climate at the beach Weyr is far more temperate than the early spring weather of High Reaches, and it appears the inhabitants are taking advantage of an early burst of warmth. Down on the beach, a couple of bonfires are already burning in preparation for the impending night, and the last of what looks to have been quite a feast is being moved away by some of the kitchen hands. Groups of weyrfolk gather here and there, some lounging, stretched out on the beach, others standing around talking, and more still taking advantage of the weather to go for a dip in the pleasantly warm waters. Under the shade of one of the trees, R'hin -- looking casual and shirt-less, as are most of the weyrfolk -- is chatting to a broad-shouldered woman perhaps a handful of Turns his junior. She's not what you would call overly pretty, though R'hin's casual lean against the tree, intruding into her personal space, suggests they know each other well enough. Iesaryth is not overly bothered by cool greetings or less-than-enthusiastic receptions; she's bothered by so little that it barely makes a ripple in salt-water pools that the tide leaves behind. Her oceans are quiet - perhaps in order to make a subdued appearance, given the situation, her rider's way of dealing with the southern Weyr. Though she's pleased to be skimming the actual waves to land on the beach - her usual place - but far enough from the fires that her sunny hide is dim. As such, Brieli's initial reaction to a party, people, is lost to darkness, but it's not all that favorable. Her white dress is a bright spot in the dark, her hair damp enough for it to have been raining at the Reaches. What else is new. The arrival of another dragon isn't particularly noted by the weyrfolk on the beach. R'hin, though he is watching the others on the beach, has his back to Brieli's approach, and half his attention on his companion as she talks. "...missed the handover in Gar. He's a complete idiot." The woman folds arms across her chest, radiating angry. With a shake of his head, R'hin absent-mindedly rests a hand against the woman's elbow. "Don't worry about it, Priya. I'll take care of it -- we need that shipment. I think I know just how to--" he breaks off, and something in Priya's shift of gaze and hard stare making him follow the other rider's gaze -- towards Brieli. There's a flicker of a smile, like he isn't overly surprised that she's here, and yet he waits until she gets closer, his gaze roving over her dress, the damp hair, and finally her expression. Iesaryth might be pleased by the lack of attention, Iesaryth and her innate manners, her dislike of being impolite, unannounced. Maybe the cover of darkness is as much for dragon as rider. If Brieli has heard anything of R'hin's conversation, made her approach slower to overhear more, she's certainly not stupid enough to go around looking like it. She has her arms folded too, loosely - though it does help the effect when she stares right back at the woman, fine brows arched. What? The dress is short to emphasize long legs - hardly unusual - the hair isn't curling quite yet, her expression is neutral, though dark eyes are flinty. Low, "Don't let me interrupt." Even if she totally has, oh well. If R'hin is bothered by the interruption, he certainly doesn't act like it: quite the opposite, in fact. His hands spread -- deliberate contrast to the two women -- welcoming. "Too late," he says, easily, then: "I'd expected you far sooner, Brieli." When Priya hears the name, she rolls her eyes, leans in to whisper something into the bronzerider's ear, and stalks off wordlessly towards where the harpers are setting up. Watching her go for a moment, with considering glance, R'hin's distracted apologetic, "Don't mind Priya; she's like that with everyone." Then, readjusting his position, he leans with his back against the tree, regarding Brieli again, almost expectantly. "Is she." Less a question than a statement; she'll buy that. But it's interesting just the same, so Brieli's gaze follows Priya briefly before shrugging diffidently. Looking back to R'hin, not seemingly disturbed by any stalking off, "How much sooner? I'm curious." For all that she's easy enough about it, she probably is. Her attention shifts out to the ocean, as she gets right to the point; "Why go to Azaylia? To see what she'd do, or because you thought she'd cave? There's other theories, but those are the two I'm going with, at the moment." Little more attention is given to the subject of Priya, since she's gone; instead, R'hin's head is tipped while Brieli speaks, all of his attention focused on her. Instead of answering her questions, however, he has one of his own to counter with: "What would you have done, had I come to you?" There's a little roll of her eyes, for all that she's looking out at the water still. Questions for questions. "That depends," Brieli returns, "On whether you were coming to threaten or actually discuss." There's a beat or two before she'll add, "Not that she did anything wrong." Just to be clear. "What do you think I would have done?" "I didn't threaten. I merely suggested a possible outcome, should Monaco's rider not be returned. You are the one that threatened, dear Brieli. Not a wise move; Oriane may forgive, but she certainly isn't the sort to forget." R'hin sounds casually wry about the whole thing, as if he knows from personal experience -- certainly there's no recrimination. He pushes away from the tree, taking a couple of steps along, then pauses to regard the goldrider again. "Why are you asking me a question you already know the answer to?" A beat, then, "Is it your Iesaryth, or Hraedhyth that keeps Svissath in check? Are you planning to do that for the rest of his life? What other option do you have? I want the boy back. If there's proof that he's done something, we'll take care of it -- this is a politcal game, to them--" his hand waves towards the Weyr; towards the Weyrleader's ledge. "--and if you continue to hold I'kris hostage, you continue to make Monaco look weak, and you'll force their hand. It won't end well for either of us -- I'm simply attempting to cut to the chase. Don't take it as a threat -- I'd make it perfectly clear if it were that." With a purse of her lips, a minor betrayal of the fact that Brieli might not be entirely pleased with her approach, "I didn't threaten, I clarified the situation. Perhaps not the most intelligent thing to do, but. It needed to be said." It really probably didn't, but she feels better, and that's likely the closest she'll get to admitting a misstep. Her gaze flickers back to R'hin as he moves, but there's only one thing in that she responds to immediately; "Everyone says they'll 'take care of it' as if that some how absolves me from having how this ends on my..." Conscience might imply she has one, so, "Head." It doesn't have quite the same ring that way, and she knows it - with a shake of her head, looking down to the sand, "I think everyone would like to have it over; what to do is the question. If you do care about him, you should be grateful that it's taken time. Without me, he might be dead already." Not that it's out of the question. "And I found her." "Unfortunately, telling a Weyrwoman to watch her back isn't taken as a clarification," R'hin says, with a shrug, as if he's dismissing it. The harpers are done with tuning their instruments, and a jaunty tune floats out across the beach, drawing some of the weyrfolk in already. The bronzerider's watching them, gaze distant, then finally back towards Brieli. Since she's looking down at the sand, she probably senses more than sees, but he's a step or two closer to her, near enough, at any rate, to hold out a hand towards her in invitation, expression sober, serious. "Come," he urges her, with a low murmur, "A dance or two; it's only polite, for the harpers." "I didn't mean it like that. If I meant it like that. Well. I don't tell people when I do." When, not if. But Brieli will allow, maybe, quietly, "Poor choice of words." She glances up when the bronzerider steps closer, fine brows arched for the invitation, given the conversation and situation both. Bemused, with a look towards the harpers, "Do they get offended? Do they threaten to stop if not properly appreciated?" She's a faint smirk about her for that, but she'll unfold her arms reluctantly to take his hand. "Polite," she echoes. Not buying it necessarily, but she hasn't said no. "Mortally offended," R'hin's quick to respond, with just a slight glimmer of mirthful smile that suggests he's putting it on. "And one should take care never to offend a harper; they make up songs about you that stick." Taking the offered hand, he begins to lead her closer to where the other dancers are gathered on the beach. Once there, he steps in closer to her, a hand resting comfortably at her waist, fingers of the other curled against hers -- silent at first, though his foot taps along to the beat, giving her just enough lead time before he starts to move. The tune is a fast jig, a slight variation on a dance that's probably less common in the north, but the bronzerider is an adept dancer -- leading her expertly around the makeshift dance floor of the beach. "The things I don't think about," Brieli murmurs with a quirk of her lips, mostly to herself. Not that she's working at offending harpers, not this evening, not when she's been so brilliant at offending everyone else. Seeming comfortable even amongst the Monaco weyrfolk, she's not at all awkward in the way some girls her age might be, and a decent dancer besides - more quick to move and pick up than actually skilled, but she's not leading. If anyone's watching her, even R'hin, it never seems that she notices, though she's usually observant enough. The glint of the Monaco bronzerider's pale eyes suggests he's pleased at how easily she picks up the dance -- though there's not really much opportunity for conversation with the speed of the dance. Even the most fit of riders works hard at this particular song, and by the end, R'hin's breathing heavily, only releasing his comfortable hold on the Reachian goldrider in order to join in the applause of the dancers. The harpers strike up another song, slower this time -- clearly to give the dancers a bit of a breather. The goldrider can keep up, but Brieli is hardly Azaylia with her early morning running and all - she's likewise out of breath by the end of the dance, but she's grinning, despite herself and the darker moods that she slides into so easily. She has polite applause for the harpers, even if the shift in tempo has her giving them a bit of the side-eye. But she'll still turn back to R'hin, offering out slender hands - though she'll tell him, serious, "I'm leaving after this." Why wreck all this grim business with a little entertainment? Maybe she has a curfew. "Mmhmm," R'hin murmurs, like he believes her -- a curfew -- his hands stretching out all too easily to take hers -- an expert twist-and-lift of his hand designed to send her into a spin before he falls into step with her, his other hand settling comfortably at her hip again. This dance requires far less concentration, particularly for one so used to dancing, and it allows him to focus his gaze, and attention, on her. "I believe you belong at High Reaches, Brieli." His voice is soft, but fervent, tipping his head so his eyes can meet hers. "But I also believe that you can't protect I'kris. Sooner or later, someone will get it into their heads that the matter must be dealt with, and the longer you wait, the more likely that is -- then it will be out of your hands... but still on your head." A ripple of a grimace passes over his expression, like some dark shadow of memory, followed by his murmur close to her ear, "Sometimes, being a leader isn't about making the right decision -- just making a decision." "She doesn't like to be gone for long, right now." And there's another great excuse. The dragon. Though it might stand to reason that Iesaryth wouldn't want to be away for long, given the situation. Given Hraedhyth. Brieli is sent into that spin, though she looks less pleased about it, given R'hin doesn't sound like her believes her. Once they're close again, she doesn't need to look up very far to meet pale gaze with her dark - and she's skeptical, but there's something lurking beneath that. Wry, tone heavy, "Maybe I do. It's deserved." There's nothing good about that, by her emphasis. "And I know. I know who. Which is another mess waiting to happen." It's almost resigned, though those words in her ear bring her own grimace. "I can't..." Her jaw sets, she looks away, won't finish. "We'll do something." Immediately on the heels of that can't, R'hin's pressing, "You have to. I hope you'll believe that I want to see the boy safely home, to his mother, and sister." A beat, and a faint smile of reminiscence: "In the same way I once escorted a young weyrling and her queen to High Reaches." He's silent for a time, distant, gaze shifting past her, looking in the direction of the harpers, but not at them. "She's not an easy mistress to serve, is High Reaches. But she's worth it, Brieli." There's a trace of something, probably regret, laced into his tone, though his expression remains distant. Tightly, with her own regret, "I don't know if that's possible. But I'll do what I can. I would have before." But it's darkened Brieli's expression, enough that she can't return that smile. There's a moment where she's silent and serious before, "I can't order someone's execution, that's what I can't do. I won't. But even I don't believe that now." And though she's watching R'hin as he looks away in that silence, though she might pick up on that trace - she can't stop a low, bitter laugh from escaping. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." She just shakes her head, glances back at the harpers like, could you wrap this up, please. "I should go." Before she says anything else? For, before, R'hin shifts his shoulders in a barely completely shrug. It's her bitter laugh and the words that follow that have the bronzerider looking at her, sharply, expression hardening all of a sudden. He doesn't even bother to pretend -- but ceases the dance, mid-step, letting his hands fall away from hers. His voice is tight, though the words are polite enough for all that: "Give my regards to your queen, and Azaylia's." There's a brief brush of his gaze, and then he's striding past her, into the growing shadows of the evening. She might be surprised by the suddenness of all of that, given away in a blink. But it's not in Brieli's nature to show weakness, particularly given where she's standing. "Fine," she replies as R'hin's striding off, not even a little bit polite. Figures. She's gotten what she wants anyway, right? Without so much as a glance for the reaction that may have caused, she's still quick enough to get back to Iesaryth and get out of there. Like she wants to come back anyway! |
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