Logs:Totally Worth It
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| RL Date: 7 January, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia sees to K'del's punishment for his brawl in Tillek. After, they talk. |
| Where: Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 9, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr A heavy, brocade curtain separates the ledge from the weyr within, which opens up into a long, wide wallow and a walkway beside it. There's easily enough room for a bronze in here; the ceiling is high enough that sound tends to echo. Down the wall beside the walkway, small circles appear to float within the dim light like miniature moons; a high panel of them that's perhaps four or five times as long as a man is tall. They end abruptly as the wall curves around and opens out into the rest of the weyr. It's a good sized weyr, and laid out nicely with a fine collection of solid, expensive furniture. A niche off to one side offers built-in shelving and a desk set out beneath it, while much of the rest of the space has been taken up by a couch and several chairs, laid out in front of the hearth. It's reflective, that hearth, made up of squares tiled on point, many of which look very new indeed. To one side of that is a dark opening that might be another niche, or perhaps a passageway. A tunnel leads off from that dark opening - narrow, if still tall. It turns a corner and then opens out into an expansive room set against the other side of the hearth. Most of /this/ space is taken up by a bed that has clearly been made to fit the space exactly, although there's still room to step around to another niche - this one with a plugged basin above and a drain below. There are more of those moons here, too: moons that glow with light from the room beyond. The cooling weather has little effect on the eldest queen of High Reaches, fire's heat seeking out Cadejoth with no effort, « Are you in your weyr? » Not the bronze specifically, but at least his rider? « If not, then fix it. » Hraedhyth circles, assumption keeping her low in the sky and suspiciously close to K'del's weyr. « She wishes to speak with Him. » The drums are no help, steady with the weight of duty but not overly excited... at least, it doesn't seem like Cadejoth has anything to worry about from the gold. Cadejoth is not at home, though his absence from the ledge is no real indicator of that: he could easily be tucked up within his wallow, snug against the cold. But no - his touch radiates the cold wind of high flight, exulting in the freedom of it, freedom he's not unwilling to share, though something in the duty of her drums curtails it. « He is within, » he reports, not cautious, but with the distant memory of understanding. Duty. Pack. Oh yes. His, « Make yourself comfortable, » is friendly enough, his chains warmed abruptly by the hearthfires of his welcome. His cooperation is appreciated, but when has Cadejoth ever truly been difficult? Never, as far as Hraedhyth can remember. Lucky him. Smoke curls playfully through his heated chains, willing to be carried on that frigid wind beneath his wings. She's far more interested in his wallow, however, landing with purpose and letting her shivering rider off. After, she'll lumber inside and curl up to keep Cadejoth's usual spot warm. Azaylia isn't far behind, rubbing through the chilled fabric that covers her arms, though the dark dress is designed to be warm. "K'del?" She manages to keep her teeth still long enough, already recovering just from being inside. Waiting near Hraedhyth, she doesn't venture any further unless invited. That wind makes an attempt to disperse that smoke, but Cadejoth will not let it go: he'll carry it - and her - with him on his adventure, sharing his glee as, below him, the mountains rise and fall in a dizzying array of snow-capped peaks. Within the weyr, light brightens those hanging moons, built so carefully into the wall, and even from the relative seclusion of the wallow the sounds of normal life can be heard. Azaylia's question draws an abrupt halt - and then, a moment later, he's visible around the curve of the wall, with a great purple bruise on his chin and a definite pained stiffness to his movement. "Azaylia-- come in." If he was surprised at her arrival, he doesn't seem to be now; instead, there's resignation. "Would you like klah? Something stronger?" Hraedhyth may be the oddity in that she doesn't go flying as often as her sister, but she still enjoys Cadejoth doing the flying for her. Confidently claiming his wallow she will stay tethered with him by chain and smoke, blunt comments varying between compliments and critiques. Azaylia is busy trying to get a better look at those miniature moons, distracted even as the bronzerider approaches. When she turns it's with a sharp gasp, bordering on a squeak, "K'del." Her voice drops with the weight of a mild scold, "What did you..." The question dies quickly. She knows what he did. "Ah, klah would be nice. Thank you." She moves further into the weyr, "Does it hurt much?" Bluntness does not bother Cadejoth; indeed, he seems to quite enjoy it. A companionable interlude, then. K'del, in contrast, grimaces upon receipt of Azaylia's gasp, lifting his fingers to rub at his chin in a way that well indicates how tender it really is. His offer of klah is a timely one - the pot is already set up on the hearth, and already bubbling away, needing only to be poured into mugs and offered to the Weyrwoman. As he executes these manouevers, he answers, simply. "Less than it did yesterday, more than it will tomorrow, hopefully. Could've been worse - he got me pretty hard in the kidney." Azaylia purses her lips as she chooses a nicely crafted chair to sit in, "You've seen a Healer." Is as much a question as it is a... firm suggestion. There's a stiffness to her own movements, sense of duty carried by the goldrider as she neatly folds her hands in her lap. Taking a moment to admire the quality of his weyr, she seems pleased by it enough to relax those stiff shoulders. "Sorry I haven't... had time to visit before." Is soft enough, genuine sentiment a contrast to the words that follow. "You know why I'm here, I think. We received a report that you and another bronzerider started some sort of... brawl?" She doesn't mean to sound so surprised. "Madilla," confirms K'del, his half-smile no doubt spurred on by the entirety of the situation: in parts both awkward and absurd. He offers out one of the mugs, then, having relinquished it, retreats to another of the chairs, stiff and pained. "You've been busy," he says, excusing her with a shake of the head. "And so have I. But-- I did not start a brawl." Indeed, he seems almost offended by the implication, enough so that he has to put down his own mug and brace his arms against his legs. "They did. Kept muttering about Tillek's lost heir, and when I finally approached them, one of them threw a punch." Azaylia seems to be taking the situation entirely too serious, or trying to, which likely adds to the absurdity. It's broken when she accepts the klah, a thanks offered sweetly before she's back to being all business. "You didn't?" This time there's no surprise. Blowing the steam off the surface of her drink, she peers at him from the mug she's holding in two hands. "You and R'hin walked over to people who clearly didn't like you." She translates with little accusation, save for the other bronzer's name. "You didn't expect anything to happen?" Gentle voice might sound curious, but her brown eyes are far too focused for that to be entirely true. "R'hin and I," sighs K'del, pressing his palms flat to his knees, now, while his gaze hovers on the floor in front of his feet. "met at Tillek for a drink. Minding our own business. Men at the table next to us started muttering and staring; they kept getting louder. Hard to ignore. Pissed me off. Spent turns doing my best, and they scoffed at it. So yeah, I approached them. R'hin backed me up. Do what you need to, Azaylia. Weyrwoman. I'm not a Weyrleader, anymore - neither of us were. Couple of turns of biting your tongue and wishing you could speak true, and you'll understand why it felt so good." Azaylia is polite enough to take a sip before placing her cup of klah down. "You should have ignored them." She says simply, "You know you did everything you could, looking for that boy. It wasn't your fault." Not much of a reprimand, easing forward to try and duck her eyes so she can catch his again. Sitting up at the sound of her shared title, she folds her hands in her lap, "I'm just trying to understand. It doesn't seem very much..." The junior stops, giving a small smile that doesn't seem very happy. "Guess I've never seen you not being a Weyrleader." Realizing this, she falls into an uncomfortable silence until, "Dawn sweeps for two sevens. And..." Less of a professional decision, perhaps. "I'd like it if you didn't see R'hin during your punishment." Another tentative 'suggestion'. K'del doesn't seem bothered by the description of his punishment; indeed, his nod is a firm one, one that could almost be described as approving. To the rest, however - he sighs. "Could have ignored them. Maybe 'should', but-- Azaylia, I have barely seen myself being not-Weyrleader. Not as an adult. And after all these turns, seemed like it was the most natural thing to say 'no, I'm not going to take this'. Don't have to. My actions no longer cause diplomatic incidents, not in most situations." Now, he reaches for his klah again, sipping at it absently though there's a spark in his gaze that hasn't been there for many months - since Iolene, no doubt. "It felt good. Worth any punishment." The goldrider eases back in her seat, bringing her own cup back up as she does with legs neatly crossing at the ankles. She doesn't say anything while he speaks, a little smile spreading across her lips. Hiding it behind her drink works for the most part, but it will eventually lower to rest on her lap. "Makes more work for me and Brieli." Not that she sounds all that upset about it. "And it still makes me worry for you." Far more sincere than her dutiful voice, she seems to have dropped the 'Weyrwoman' act. "But you are just a rider now, so hopefully nobody will say I'm going easy on you." She sounds thoughtful, if a touch concerned. "Sorry about that," admits K'del, apparently genuinely, as she mentions the extra work. "Hopefully it won't result in anything more than disapproval. Edeline's pretty focused on other things these days, it seems." That remark has him averting his gaze again, as though it makes him uncomfortable, now, to have even an out-of-date understanding of the area-- it's no longer his business. "No need to worry about me, though. Seriously. I'm ok, Azaylia. Promise, we'll go drinking somewhere else, next time. Less trouble for everyone." It's now, as he tilts his head just slightly to the side, that he asks, "How are you doing?" "I don't think anything's going to happen, no." Other than this talk, and perhaps another report on which measures were taken. Azaylia gives a soft hum, "I'm not so sure if R'hin..." But she's told not to worry, and while she might be his temporary Weyrwoman, she's not his mother. "Just be careful." She settles on that, smile somewhat strained. There's no denying his improvement. His question has her giving a grimace that's mostly playful, "I'm fine. Well, not fine-fine but fine enough." As well as someone with so much responsibility can be. "You probably know what I mean." K'del's knowing smile is, at least, full of affection. "Don't worry about me," he repeats, fondness audible in his words. "Know how to take care of myself. I wanted to-- don't blame R'hin for it." More serious, and rather more sad, is what follows: that long, searching look that lingers until he finally nods. "Reckon I do," he agrees, very quietly. "As much as anyone can. Missed your turnday." An apology. "Missed a lot of things. But I'm going to try and-- if I can help, Azaylia. You'll ask?" Azaylia strains, though it might sound as if she's simply unsure. "I won't blame R'hin." This time. "You're a good man, K'del." Her smile matches his, although a bit more shyly, "Thank you for owning up to your actions." The missed turnday gets a blink, hand abandoning the warm cup to give the air a gentle wave. "Oh. It's fine, I didn't do much. Got eight turns or so until the next big one, anyway." That'd be her thirtieth, which seems ages away. Taking another sip of klah, she doesn't seem to bother tasting with how quickly she swallows. "Do you think I'd be a bad Weyrwoman?" She suddenly blurts out, warmth of the drink still carried on her words. "I... I think someone was trying to tell me that I was. Would be." He who shall remain nameless. There are things K'del might have said, in answer to her earlier words, but as soon as Azaylia blurts out that last, they are forgotten entirely. "What?" he says. And: "No. No. You're-- you care for this Weyr, Azaylia, that much's so plainly obvious. You want to do best by it. Maybe you've got things to learn," he amends, though he's being quietly honest with that at least, "but so did I. We all do, at first. Hraedhyth wouldn't have chosen you if you didn't have the potential to be very good. If she goes up first, you'll do us proud." His klah is set down again; then, he stands, moving to drop into a seat far closer to hers, so that he can reach out and try and grab for her hand. The mug of klah is put down, the stressful weight of her question settling in her stomach and making it hard to drink anymore. "Things with I-" The stutter seems almost natural, "I'kris. I think I messed up. Bad. Really bad. I can't blame anyone for wanting..." Azaylia trails off, another fortifying breath taken so that she can actually look at the bronzerider. "I'll try." She admits, hand seeking the comfort of his to give a squeeze. "Without Brieli, things would have been so much worse. She's so good at this." No jealousy, just simple admiration. Realizing how she must sound, the weyrwoman manages a weak smile, "Your opinion still matters a lot to me. Thank you." For all of her emotion, she's still dry-eyed. Mention of I'kris has K'del flinching, but not so much that he needs to retreat, or withdraw any of the support he's just offered. After a moment of uneasiness in his expression, he schools it back, and turns his attention, instead, to nodding. "Brieli's good at a lot of things," he tells her, firmly. "But you have heart. And... you'll learn. You will. Got my vote, anyway." Vote. It makes his mouth twitch, as if the very idea is a hilariously foreign one. The flinch has her scootching, and if she needs to get up in order to hug the man, she will. Azaylia hovers, avoiding anything awkward like sitting in his lap. She won't squeeze too hard, but there's an intense grip just before she lets go and eases back with a smile. "We'll help each other." She hopes. "And if... I mean, I'll remember to ask you for advice." Whether he wins the leadership flight or not. A glance back will help her find her seat, sitting and not looking too eager to leave just yet. "Could I trouble you for another cup of klah?" Remembering his injuries, "Nevermind, I'll get it!" Quick to baby the injured, punished bronzerider, it'll be much of the same during the rest of her visit. |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Tue, 08 Jan 2013 05:25:21 GMT.
< Only Azaylia could come to punish someone and make them feel better, not worse. It's a superpower.
And I have a heart. A cold black one.
R'hin (R'hin) left a comment on Tue, 08 Jan 2013 05:58:09 GMT.
<
"I won't blame R'hin." This time.
Totes innocent. I swear! >.>
Meanwhile... K'gel... Igen next? So many watering holes to visit! O:)
K'del (K'del) left a comment on Tue, 08 Jan 2013 09:32:03 GMT.
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R'hin: you're on! *corrupted*
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