Logs:Of Consequences
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| RL Date: 16 March, 2007 |
| Who: R'hin, Jorea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin tries to find answers for the now-dragonless Jorea, in the wake of the loss of her green Iseuth in the first fall of the comet Pass. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 4, Turn 11 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Shanlee/Mentions, C'len/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Sirana/Mentions, S'rist/Mentions |
| Your location's current time: 14:07 on day 28, month 4, Turn 61, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon. You go towards the lake shore. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way. The afternoon is clear, and the sun shines with a few small clouds floating past. The air is calm, with no hint of breeze. The water's glasslike surface mirrors the cliff walls and sky above. Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl Jorea strides over from the eastern side of the bowl. Jorea has arrived. It's a warm spring afternoon in High Reaches Weyr, perfect weather for sitting idly by the lake. Idleness, however, is far from R'hin's mind; the Weyrleader sets a fast pace around the lake, running with a determined, hard look on his face. He's not paying too much attention to his surroundings, other than to make sure he doesn't bowl over any passersby. Jorea stands by herself at te side of the water, some way past the path that leads between the lake and the bowl: and as a result out of the way of most of the people passing back and forth. Her head is turned upwards, towards the sky, and her eyes are fixed on a point some way above the lake that seem to be completely lacking of anything of interest. The womans arms dangle by her side, but her hands are clenched into fists. R'hin's pace slows, finally, forehead damp as he angles towards the rock he laid a towel on earlier. Breathing hard still, he runs the towel over his face and head, pale eyes flickering around: taking note of who's nearby, who's talking to who - and who's by themselves. He makes no attempt to mask his steps as Jorea catches his eye and he angles towards her, something - pity, perhaps - disappearing from his expression as he stops near. A beat passes, then two, as he waits - for Jorea to notice him, perhaps, or for something suitable to say to come to him. Jorea doesn't seem quite as oblivious to her surroundings as one could expect from a woman who was, moments before, just staring into an empty patch of space for Faranth knew how long. Her head turns, and her eyes regard the weyrleader for a few short moments before she straightens up and lifts her hand in a saulte to the man. "Good afternoon, Weyrleader," she says. Her voice is stiff, and her face betrays her lack of comfort with this particular situation. The salute, it would seem, earns surprise from the Weyrleader who, after a moment's contemplation, returns it - a rare enough gesture. "Jorea," he greets in his low baritone. There's a slight tenseness to his movements that suggest Jorea's not the only one that's made particularly uncomfortable, but R'hin's hiding it a bit better. He slings the towel over his shoulder, stretching his arms as pale eyes drift from the former greenrider, to the patch of sky she was watching. "Are you settling into your new quarters okay?" It's a delicate - and deliberate - way of skirting the question at hand. Jorea returns to her previous stance of slouching and swaying slightly. "To be brutally honest sir, no. It's far too warm in the lower caverns to sleep, and I'd rather be somewhere with a slightly less easy access to the wine cupboards." The woman chuckles, a sound bereft of any amusement but desribing her nervousness. "It's a... big adjustment to make, sir." The woman stops looking at the weyrleader now, and her eyes drift back to the same point in the sky. "I heard thread has fallen again. So it wasn't a freak event." A pause, and a grimace. "Shame." "I don't know about the wine cupboards, but-- if it's too warm, perhaps speak to Sirana and see if she can't find you a room of your own. At least in the short term." R'hin allows, with a faint frown. He runs a hand through still-damp hair, uneasiness flittering across his expression. "Over Ruatha," the bronzerider confirms after a moment. "I don't know -what- it is. But we won't be caught unawares again," he says, a hint of sharpness leaking into his tone, conveying anger. Voice softens in the next moment, "It's an adjustment, yes. But, you're strong. You're a 'Reachian." Jorea frowns slightly at the weyrleaders comment on being caugh unawares, "If we can't predict the fall, we're in not better position than we were that day at High Reaches." She pauses a moment, "Except, perhaps, the suggestion that it's thread won't be dismissed by a queen who knows nothing of the subject, because it 'isn't possible'." The former greenrider glances at R'hin again, then back to the sky. "I am a Reachian," she admits, "As to being strong... I suppose we'll see on that, won't we?" "We're doing extensive sweeps across High Reaches land. We're... mentally prepared, this time. Maybe there is a pattern, but we just don't know it yet." All platitudes, perhaps, but R'hin offers them regardless, letting arms drop back to his sides as he studies the woman sidelong at her comment about a queen, brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" he asks, puzzled. A pause, then a tip of head in acknowledgement, "We'll see," he agrees, though the words hold a confidence to them, as if -he- has no doubts on that particular score. Jorea nods, turning to look at the weyrleader again and bowing her head to him slightly, "I'm sure you'll work it out, and find that it could have been predicted, and that we 'should have just known'," the woman says, kicking at a stone with a lazy swing of her leg and sighing. "I don't mean anything weyrleader, just a bitter woman going over a single hour constantly in her mind, looking for someone to blame and be angry at. Teonath is one of the easier ones." "No," the Weyrleader disagrees, the word sharp, and no effort made to soften it. "We -couldn't- have known. No one could have. Anyone who says otherwise is foolhardy, or seeking to damage us." He exhales slowly, the slight tip of his head to Jorea acknowledgement of her explanation. A pause, then quietly: "And myself? I -am- the Weyrleader. I should have known?" Jorea pauses, "Anything that is unexplainable, becomes obvious once we have an explanation," the woman comments, shrugging. She glances between the sky and the weyrleader. "I went through many names, sir. C'len, Shanlee, the people who brought firestone... and yes, yours." "Well. I am here. Say what you will," R'hin says, demeanor sober, serious; hands spread as if welcoming her accusations. "Say what you thought in your head. Take a swing at me, if you wish. There will be no reprisals, no repercussions." He watches her, patient, accepting. Jorea's fist tightens at her side, and she stares at the weyrleader for a moment. "I shouldn't have been out there alone," she says, her voice turning harder. "They should have accepted my concerns over the storm, since Iseuth was the only dragon involved to have fought thread before..." her words trail of and she grunt. A second later, she is quickly bringing her arm up and aiming her balled hand at R'hin's gut. R'hin does not bother to offer any defences, either verbally or physically; hands remain out towards his side, the punch connecting against a hard, muscled stomach. He grunts, the force of the blow staggering him back a moment, eyes remaining level on Jorea as he straightens. Waiting, still. Jorea grunts as the blow connects with the weyrleaders stomach, a satisfied snear crossing her face. "They should have brought firestone, not dismissed Iseuth as just being proddy." The apparent calm of the weyrleader seems to infuriate the woman, and she draws her fist back again, but drops it and turns away from the man rather than throwing another punch at him. Slowly, R'hin's hands lower to his sides after Jorea turns away from him, and slightly haunted, pale eyes drift away from her, as well. Attention settles on the calm lake, disturbed only by the occasional ripples caused by the spring winds. Jorea shuffles her feet for a moment, then kicks at a stone underneath her shoes and turns to face the weyrleader again. "Do any of your senior riders have any experience, R'hin?" she asks after a moment. A flicker of something - suspiciously akin to annoyance - crosses R'hin's features. "They all have experience - now. But if you're asking, who has flown fall before the pass began? All of the current Wingleaders, bar C'len and myself. I'm not an idiot, despite what many people believe. I know the value of experience, as well as the value of change. And I intend to use both. This is not a normal fall, so the answer to your question - who has flown erratic falls like this before? The answer is no one." Jorea nods, "I didn't think you were an idiot, R'hin," she says slowly. "I'd never actually considered your age, or C'len's, while I flew under you. Iseuth had faith in Vildaeth, and Vildaeth in Leiventh, so it was never an issue." The woman looks up to the spot in the sky again, now. "Sedition isn't good for a Weyr. Our whole lives are based on loyalty, to our lifemates: but they seem to accept leaders easier than we do." "If you didn't, then you are rare amongst the 'Reachians," R'hin says, a little more mildly, though there's still a tenseness in his expression. "Sedition isn't good for a Weyr, but I have no control over how people think or feel, nor should I. Regardless, any mistake I made, or may make in the future, will serve to highlight my age, my lack of threadfighting experience. It doesn't matter that -no one- has faced this situation before." Jorea grins slightly at the weyrleader, "To tell the truth, I didn't really notice, til I saw S'rist walking around without that heavy knot." She glances up at the sky one last time and the says, with a stifled yawn. "I think I'm going to go crawl into bed again, she's not coming back today, it seems." The former greenrider gives R'hin one last look, then starts on her way towards the bowl. A long look, and a brief nod is given before R'hin murmurs as she departs, "Good afternoon, Jorea." |
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