Logs:Time To Go
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| RL Date: 20 April, 2014 |
| Who: K'del, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: It's nearly time for Savannah to head back to Monaco. K'del and R'hin debrief. |
| Where: K'del's Island, Western Islands |
| When: Day 0, Month 8, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, M'kris/Mentions, Nita/Mentions, Oriane/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Yuliye/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| « Leiventh. » It's a warm, fine summer's afternoon at the High Reaches, though the Acting Weyrleader pair have - by all reports - been out-Weyr since early in the morning. Now, the bronze reaches out with a rattle of bone and chain, and issues an invitation: « It's nearly time for the harvest. Yours should see. Before he returns home. » An image follows the message: there's the island, with the little cozy hut and those rows upon rows of fruit-laden vines. That's where they are: Cadejoth aloft, exhilarating in the winds, and his rider reclining in one of the two carved wooden chairs he has set up with a view over vines and the distant ocean. There's a bottle of wine chilling on the table between the two chairs, two glasses ready and waiting. Leiventh's chill tones don't hold any of High Reaches summer warmth, nor of Monaco's near Turn-round heat. Yet despite the coldness of his thoughts, they are focused instantly, attentively on Cadejoth, a silent acknowledgement of the other bronze's greeting, at first, then a pause and an assent. « We come. » With R'hin's late-night habits it's probably closer to morning for him than afternoon, though that doesn't mean he'll turn up a chill bottle of wine -- divesting himself of flight gear as soon as Leiventh touches down on the edge of the island. And while the bronze doesn't seek the skies to join his fellow bronze, Leiventh seems content enough at the water's edge. "It's a far cry from what -- three Turns ago?" R'hin's whistling appreciatively, his attention all for the vineyards more than his fellow rider. "About that," agrees K'del, lifting one hand in idle greeting. "Reckon this harvest'll be our first reasonable one, if we're lucky. This one," he gestures towards the bottle on the table beside him, "isn't one of mine. Wouldn't subject you to that, just yet." He's abandoned his shoes and rolled up his sleeves, lazing back in his chair with a self-satisfied expression that probably makes it as far as his voice. "But give it time. I'll have to send some down to you, at Monaco, in a few months." There's an appreciative chuckle from R'hin for the gesture to the bottle, and with an exhale, the Monacoan drops into the empty chair. "I look forward to it," he says, with a smile. "If I can convince Maiga of the worth of the brand, new as it is, she might set up a regular request for it. Just need to get the right people drinking it, if you know what I mean. And I'm not talking about Oriane." K'del's expression takes a further turn for the pleased for that remark. "Now that," he murmurs, as much to himself as to R'hin, "would be something. It'd be very much appreciated." Even so, mention of Oriane has his expression altering, his gaze turning distant and thoughtful. Even so, he holds further comment until after he's filled both glasses, sliding one closer to the other man. "Of course, the wine's mostly out of my hands, these days. It's a good thing I've so many brothers, and so many nieces and nephews. But... Oriane. Will she be glad to have you back, do you think?" R'hin, too, seems content in the silence until it's filled with the splashing of liquid, a grateful nod given as he takes the nearer glass. While he sips, his gaze roves over the vineyard, only a slight tightening of jaw as the conversation lingers on his Monacoan Weyrwoman. "Hard to say. I imagine she expected Evielth would've risen by now. My -- sources -- tell me she's worried about that. That means she'll be glad to have me back to help... manage expectations. But also unhappy because the leadership hasn't been locked down yet. Something that seems to plague High Reaches, too," he adds, with a knowing, sidelong look. "Manage expectations," repeats K'del, chewing over that rather than focus on the High Reaches side of the equation. He picks up his glass, swirling the wine in it reflectively, his gaze ultimately lifting back towards his vines. "Not an easy thing, for a Weyrwoman, and with their queens rising so much less often, without the Pass... of course, there's nothing wrong with a queen not rising for two or three or even four turns, but..." But it's quiet acknowledgement, nonetheless, that he's keeping an eye on Hraedhyth. "And you? I suppose you'll be glad to be back before the weather up this way turns." The low chuckle suggests R'hin's well aware that they're not talking about Monaco's Weyrwoman any longer. "You know, I hear Azaylia was... close... with both Taikrin and Z'ian after their flights. I'd imagine that came about as much from past dealings as the flight itself. You should... take her out. Take her places. She barely leaves the Weyr anymore; you should remind her there's a big wide, exciting world, and she's allowed to roam in it and occasionally not be the Weyrwoman. Manage expectations," he repeats, far too casually. A grin soon follows, "I won't miss the snow. Nor will most of Savannah, I expect. What will you do with Telavi and Nita?" he doesn't bother to hide his interest in their well-being, nor the shades of protectiveness that's audible in his voice. K'del's head turns, this time, so that he can regard R'hin evenly. "Still not convinced she trusts me. We've... managed better, of late, but it's still difficult. And frustrating. Once upon a time, we were good friends, Azaylia and I. Strange, how things turn out, sometimes. But... I'll give it a go." He lifts his glass: acknowledgement. "Mm, wouldn't mind skipping the snow, myself. Just have to content myself with running off to Southern as often as I can." A pause. Then, "What do you think I should do with them? If Hraedhyth chooses to rise, that's Telavi sorted. But... they've new skills now, don't they." "She doesn't trust anyone," R'hin agrees, twisting the glass in his hand. "Not even herself, I think -- which might be half the problem. Any chance you can help to... repair the relationship she had with Taikrin? She needs -- some sort of stability. A rock at her back." His low chuckle chases the mention of Southern. "There are certain advantages to having a girl in a warm place like that. The shock of coming back to snow can be a wake up call, though." There's a slow nod, for the mention of his newest Savannah recruits. "Whatever you do, make sure they have a loose leash. They'll do their best work that way. Find them a less traditional Wingleader to serve under. Encourage freedom. They've built up contacts around the sweep that'll prove useful in the long run." K'del exhales, a long and low release of breath that holds more than a little bit of a sigh. "I can try," he murmurs. "She needs it. She'll... break, otherwise." It's a solemn thought, and one that holds him for a few long moments before he recovers enough of his own thoughts to return to the conversation. "Polaris'll need restructuring, once it returns. Perhaps we can put something into place, there, that will... put some of that training to good use." He gives his wine a glance, then lifts his gaze back towards the blue sky and the ocean beyond. "They'll miss you, I think. You, and Savannah." A low chuckle follows the declaration of Polaris' restructure. "I'd imagine," R'hin says, "Savannah will be similarly disbanded. Oriane wouldn't want leadership to go to my head." He drinks, slowly, then after a beat, "Savannah will miss them, too. And this place. It's been... surprisingly good to us." Like he didn't expect it. "Some more than others, granted. I imagine," with a grin, "Your rider's lounge will miss our weekly games. Maybe I can charge Telavi and Nita with keeping up that particular tradition. Some of Savannah's might even drop by for the occasional game... for old times' sake." "It hasn't already?" K'del's tone is teasing, which at least breaks him out of his more serious thoughts. "Good," he adds, after a moment. "Would hate it to have been a bad experience for you all. We've liked having you, I think. It's been... good, having a wing doing different things. It's given some people some ideas, I think. You'd all be welcome back to the lounge any time." Presumably, by extension, to the Weyr, too. "Though I'll be closing it for refurbishments in a few sevens. Get that bar put in place, finally. Wouldn't dream of doing that until after you're all gone, of course." "It's made me more broke than anything. Some of those younger players have surprisingly good poker faces," R'hin confesses, ruefully. There's a brief furrow of brow when K'del mentions closing the lounge, though it fades away as pleased laughter rumbles from him. "So, you're finally putting in the bar. I'll have to come back -- just to test it out. Make sure you've done it right, etcetera." It's an excuse, of course, but he seems pleased with the invitation. Draining the glass, he leans forward, then murmurs, "There's some stirrings at Crom -- I doubt the Lady Yuliye will sit still. High Reaches seems focused on ship building -- they've more than enough ships to protect their waters and then some, there's supplies going out and disappearing somewhere. Nabol's still finding its feet, and are too occupied with that to be looking outwards right now, and Tillek's watching everyone. The Holds are occupied with their own dramas, which for now, is good for you." K'del's laugh is lowly amused, his grin answering R'hin's rue without much sympathy. "Good for them," he says. "Mm. Finally. Seems like it's high time to do it. It'll certainly need your testing." It's the murmuring, though, that has attracted most of his attention, and if he busies his hands with refilling glasses, it certainly doesn't take away from the fact that he's listening, intently. "Interesting," he breathes, more like an exhale than a word. "Good. Not," he admits, after a moment, "that it doesn't bother me, whatever it is High Reaches is up to. Or Crom, for that matter. And Tillek's always a concern. But... as long as their attention isn't focused on us... going to miss having your ears around, damn it." "Mm. I can moonlight now and then, to... keep my hand in the game. Plus, Nita and Telavi will start to show their worth. For now, things are quiet, so there's time." For what, R'hin doesn't say. Instead, he tips his glass towards the bottle as if to invite a refill, with an unapologetic grin. "You know, hypothetically, if the rumors were true about you putting all your troublemakers into Polaris before sending them south," the dry look he gives his fellow bronzerider suggests he knows it to be true, "It might not be a bad idea to keep them together... under the right Wingleader. Troublemakers only make trouble when they have nothing else to do, or when they feel as if they're not heard. They can be guided... how do you think Glacier, and its habits came about?" Once the glasses are refilled, K'del sets the bottle down once more, reclaiming his own glass to nurse between his fingers, and mull over what R'hin has said. "Guided," he repeats, eventually, sounding quietly thoughtful. "Not, of course, that I could possibly confirm or deny any suggestion of troublemakers and their present wing assignment." But they both know, regardless. "But... I can see how that could work. Suppose you had a hand in Glacier, back in the day? They're less... Well. They're not what they used to be. It couldn't hurt to try and do something useful with Polaris, though. If I can find the right Wingleader." "Not everyone does well within the structure of a rigid wing. I should know," R'hin's chuckle is self-deprecating, and it's followed by a nod of thanks as he takes up his now-full glass. "Glacier, when it became my wing, took in all those the other Wingleaders refused. Some of them didn't trust the Weyr, didn't trust themselves. But you can always rely on a rider's trust in his dragon, and a dragon builds a sense of community around a tight-knit wing. And eventually, the rest is... self-reinforcing." There's a twitch of lips -- or maybe it's a tightening -- at K'del's suggestion Glacier isn't quite what it used to be. "I'd suggest you take it on board yourself, but... I'd wait until Hraedhyth makes her choice first. You might have enough on your plate." "Or we might end up with a Weyrleader determined to put me in my place and unwilling to grant me anything," offers K'del as counter, though despite the immediacy of it he doesn't seem to be arguing the point, per se. "Not sure I was much good as Wingleader, when I had Avalanche. Maybe I'd be better, now. F'manis has done his best with me. It sounds like an... interesting challenge. At least until you manage to get it working right, I suppose." His slow nod is thoughtful, albeit interrupted by his need to take another sip from his replenished glass. "A lot of things come down to Hraedhyth, really. It's hard to make plans, knowing it's entirely possible they won't be mine to see to fruition, even the short-term ones." "Maybe," R'hin allows, though he doesn't appear to think it too likely. "Do you really think Hraedhyth would allow Reisoth to win? Rojeth?" The Monacoan shakes his head, and takes a swallow (or two) of the wine to chase away those thoughts. "You should plan as if you will win. Even if you don't, if things are so far progressed they may be wary to change -- and don't forget, this was your Weyr for a long time. A new Weyrleader, whose likely never lead, will undoubtedly step lightly and carefully. There'll be opportunity for you there. Dream the potential, work to make it happen regardless of the outcome." He snaps his fingers, "I'm sure that was some inspirational line in a harper song. Hm." He shakes his head. "Point is, don't sit there waiting. She could rise tomorrow, or she could rise in another Turn. Think of what you could do in a Turn, K'del. More than many a man, I'll bet." Both names earn a thinning of K'del's mouth, one after another, and finally, a solemn, acknowledging nod. "In a way," he murmurs, "it's better if I've irons in the fire when it happens. You're right; it's been too long for me to just sit around waiting." Does that mean he'll actually, properly, move into the Weyrleader's Weyr? Probably not. "And you?" he asks, after a moment. "Just back to all your old projects at Monaco? No more wing to lead?" "Indeed," R'hin says, in a droll tone. He doesn't linger on that, however, answering the acting Weyrleader's question: "For the best," the Monacoan concludes with a nod, as to the question of whether he'll lead. "Oriane won't want a situation where I have a wing to pit against M'kris'. Not that... I wouldn't let it get to that." Though he doesn't sound all that convincing, aloud. "But there's talent in many of Savannah's riders that, let's just say won't go to waste." The Wingleader's grinning now, a kind of mixture of anticipation and interest. "Just don't hate me if Nita or Telavi put in for a transfer. I swear," he lifts a hand, chuckling, "I haven't made any promises." 'M'kris' is another name that thins K'del's lips; it also results in a huffed exhale. "Oriane's a wise women," he says, though it doesn't seem to be in direct response to anything in particular; perhaps it's everything, perhaps nothing. "I'm glad for your riders... though I'll fight you to the death for Telavi and Nita, thank you very much." He's grinning. "You'd better not have made promises. Pretty sure half my riders'd jump ship for better weather, come the middle of winter. Well. Maybe not half. It's... been a good turn, though. Seems like it's worked out for everyone." "She didn't get her position through niceness and naivety," R'hin agrees, though the records would have it that the previous Weyrwoman stepped down willingly. As for the pair of High Reaches greenriders: "Duel at dawn?" he proposes, perhaps only half-joking. More seriously, however, "I doubt half. High Reaches breeds loyalty. Maybe only a third," he corrects with a wry smile. For the mention of a good Turn, he agrees wordlessly, lifting his glass in silent toast and taking a long gulp. "To many more," he finally murmurs. Records tell such boring stories, sometimes. K'del's grin implies that he at least half prefers that retelling, though he doesn't comment on it. "Duel at dawn it is," he grins. "Might need to practice my knife work, though, unless we're going fists... which seems much less romantic." His own glass is lifted, R'hin's words acknowledged with a much more serious expression. After his own sip, he adds, "Many more. As long as my Polaris riders don't all beg to stay down in the warmth. Surprisingly, they don't seem to have caused too much trouble down there." "Oriane is an intimidating woman," R'hin seems to attribute Polaris' behavior primarily to that. He pushes to his feet, drains his glass, and reaches for the bottle. "What would you say to a stroll around the vineyard while we finish off the rest of this?" "Oriane..." K'del doesn't finish that thought, not immediately. Instead, he grins. "Oriane is Oriane. Monaco would be a very different place without her." He drains his own glass, rising only after he's done so. "I'd say that's a fine plan. Won't bore you with the minutiae of the growing process too much, promise. Might as well make the most of this fine, fine afternoon." "It would," R'hin agrees, "And not especially for the better," he adds more in an undertone than anything. Pausing long enough to refill both their glasses -- and carrying the bottle with them, he grins at K'del. "You know me too well, my friend. Just as well I'm leaving -- you're getting dangerously familiar," as they set off to explore the island. "We can't have that!" K'del's laugh is unrestrained. "Who are you if you're not a mystery man? You'll lose all your mystique." After sliding on his shoes again, he leads the way; down the hill into the vines, and the rocky shoreline beyond. |
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