Logs:To Speak or Not
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| RL Date: 12 March, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon thanks Z'ian for trying to maintain order. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Sleet |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. Wind, rain, and snow combine to make for miserable, sleety weather today.
H'kon has been taking more and more to the colder, less hospitable weather for his outings. This evening is no different, finding the brownrider tucked into the upturned collar of his jacket, hands, though gloved, nonetheless jammed into his pockets. But his neck is open to the cold, and his head is held higher than the normal walks around the caverns (especially since that... altercation). It's the broad-winged silhouette that might be to blame for that confidence, for the open nod given to Z'ian as H'kon approaches the rider on the ground, and Arekoth approaches the depths of the lake from above. That broad-winged silhouette catches Z'ian's attention and directs his gaze upwards, watching as the brown comes down. He catches his breath and turns his head, now seeing H'kon himself. The bronzerider leans forward, putting his hands onto his knees, inhaling deeply. "Hey!" He calls, sounding friendly enough still. Despite all of the rumors and that whole brawl thing. "Z'ian," H'kon offers, verbal greeting to verbal greeting. Maybe, with all these rumours, with renewed avoidance, the small man is even lonely. He directs his steps more toward the bronzerider, and even offers, "Boreal progresses well for you, I hope." "How are you?" Z'ian asks, sounding as if he actually means it instead of just some compulsive social obligation to put the question out there. He straightens up eventually and runs his fingers through weather damp hair. "It progresses, slowly." His mouth twitches into a small wry smile. "It's less of an uphill battle today than yesterday." H'kon's, "Well enough," does not recognise - or perhaps, chooses to ignore - the depth of Z'ian's question to him. He comes to a stop when he nears the other rider, though his gaze strays over to Arekoth's progress into the lake, attention momentarily caught by (what the change of expression suggests) is surely a comment from the dragon as he enters the icy water. "Good," comes a bit late as a result. He hesitates, more at the ready, but ends with a repetition of that same, "Good." The bronzerider is still in the midst of bringing his breathing down to a normal pace, but that doesn't stop him from idly stretching his arms and legs out in the meantime. Z'ian's eyes remain mostly fixed on H'kon, save for the occasional glance elsewhere. He watches the way that repetition comes out and he looks as if he's about to ask something or say something, but stops. Instead pressing his lips together in a firm line and allowing there to be some lapse into silence. H'kon is comfortable enough in the silence, settling into it, letting his mind work at an easy pace until it brings forth something worth saying. A simple thing, really. "I'd meant to thank you." Green eyes are focused anew on the bronzerider, and H'kon pushes his hands a bit deeper into his pockets, though the cuffs of the gloves still show beyond the jacket. "For your attempts at maintaining some order." Surely his meaning is clear. He trusts it to be, at least. Z'ian clears his throat, looking something close to uncomfortable at the thanks. "I'd say not to worry about it, but you haven't impressed me as the type of man that would care for that much." Saying that does something to pull at the corners of his mouth again, but soon he's shaking his head. Not dismissive, just maybe to clear his own thoughts. "It was a mess. K'del, the way it happened, the whole thing. How are you handling the aftermath?" H'kon tilts his head up a bit, eyeing the taller man carefully, but he does little to acknowledge that statement, or the would-be smile to follow. "It was unfortunate," H'kon decides after a moment, lips pulling wryly to one side. To the question posed to him, H'kon simply lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "There are a good many divisions in this Weyr. And only words left to me. Better not to speak too many of them, perhaps." Z'ian doesn't seem to notice the way H'kon is eyeing him or maybe he just chooses to ignore it. He folds his arms across his chest and exhales slowly. "The Weyr doesn't know its own mind anymore and some of the people in it are just as confused." His eyes drift away from him, settling on some point past H'kon. "I can respect that, if that's how you'd like it to be." "A mind is of little use when it cannot form a coherent thought for any length of time," H'kon notes a bit bitterly, a frown etching familiar lines into his face, even as he turns it out over the lake. Arekoth's dip was short-lived; the dragon is already coming into shore. It's those last words of Z'ian's that have H'kon glancing back the bronzerider's way. "I see little point in lodging one protest against another. I have no explanation, no alibi. Or do you have words that have eluded me?" "No, I don't have any of that." Z'ian answers simply and it would seem he might be done. But instead, "I don't see how you need to say anything, really. A necklace was found on your ledge. If a man weren't so deluded by his own grief he might see that there are other explantions to be had for it being there. So it stands to reason that others who are not would see them as well. Instead of assuming the worst." The bronzerider shrugs his shoulders and eventually brings his gaze back onto H'kon again. "Not everyone believes as he does, I don't think that many do. To be honest. But as I said, I respect your decision to remain silent." H'kon gives one, curt nod, taking a bit of a step to the side as Arekoth emerges, for all the brown is not really within dripping distance of his rider of Tsanth's. "Then indeed, it seems to matter little whether I speak or not. At any rate, I've said what wanted saying already. And quite publicly." It's not rightly regret that colours this last comment, so much, perhaps, as distaste. It has H'kon making a face. Z'ian is quiet through the other man's response, giving a nod first. "I thought maybe it might matter to you, to know that. Even if you choose not to speak." He turns his head, observing the brown as he emerges from the cold lake. It would seem that H'kon is taking this as his opportunity to exit and he makes no move to stop him. "If you need anything." The offer is there, standing. If at some point he might need it. Any readiness to depart that might have been is put on hold, just as is the step toward his dragon. H'kon turns, regards the bronzerider a moment, squinting a little for the dimming light. "It seems you think I should do otherwise." Arekoth's snort might be simply on acount of water in his nose... but probably not. "I think that if I were you, I would look to find out how it got there. If that's at all possible." Z'ian lifts his shoulders in a shrug, canting his head to one side. "Then proceed from there. But then..." Here his palms turn up and he raises his hands, possible to indicate he realizes how futile even that might be. "I'm not you. Good luck, H'kon." possibly* "Hmm." It's a sort of smile, a smile-attempt, but this time it's more sad than pained. "I believe, again, that should leave me only with words." H'kon gives a deeper nod, almost reminiscent of a bow. "Clear skies, Z'ian." And this time, his steps aren't interrupted as he moves back toward his dragon. |
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