Logs:All Messed Up
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2010 |
| Who: Jolie, K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del's big mouth nearly loses the weyr a Candidate. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr 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. A lovely, cloudless sky offers warm sunshine during the day, though the weather turns distinctly chilly after dark. It's evening going into night, rendering much of the shore empty save for those passing by to their respective destinations. For one stablehand woman, the shore seems to /be/ her destination since she's here - leaning against a rock jutting up from the ground with a flask in hand. Since the flask is resting in her lap closed, Jolie has a knife out and seems to be fumbling with a something else with it. One may think she's whittling on something unseen - or, she could just be sharpening said knife. Wrapped up against the chill of the evening, K'del's destination seems less the lake shore itself than nowhere at all in particular: he wanders, ambling lazily, apparently deep in thought. His progress around the edge of the lake does take him not far from Jolie eventually, though, and it's the sound of her fumbling that draws his attention in that direction, though it's not obvious from his tone whether he's aware who it is. "Oh-- hello." It's the voice that draws her up, Jolie being so into what she was doing with the knife that K'del's voice nearly draws the blade into the palm of her hand. It's a testament to her control that she only manages to graze her palm, the woman biting down any cry that wants to escape. Tossing the knife from her as she peers up and over at him, "Weyrleader," she says the title more as a greeting than as any deference to K'del's rank. There's a faint smile showing then at him, craddling the palm to herself as she shifts and goes for the flask with her free hand. "Luck has given me a companion this night, it seems," she says, leaning back against the rock more to see him better. She holds out the flask towards him and asks, "Care to join me, or am I keeping you from something important?" K'del steps closer, the better to place the stablehand, though even then, it's hard to tell whether that's the deciding factor - face or voice. Or what. But his, "Jolie," at least confirms he does know who it is. "Can't promise to be good company," he admits, continuing, his voice pitched low. "But there's nothing and no one awaiting my presence. Do you always sit alone in dark places?" He hoists himself atop the boulder, still a short distance away, legging his legs hang almost to the ground. "Doesn' have to be good company," Jolie answers to that, head tilting slightly as she tries to seek out the man's expression from where she sits. "Just company. A shame, though. Your presence not being waited on." Flask gets popped open and she takes a swig in the pause. She sighs at the taste, her dark intense gaze going back to the Weyrleader as she openly studies him for his words given. She actually grins at his own question for her, flexing the injured hand experimentally against her chest. "I think better in darkness," she answers with a low chuckle, emanating from deep within. "Gotten used to it. Used to travel a lot at night." A light shrug to that, making the statement sound as if this was what many did. Nothing odd about it at all. Nope. "Must like dark places, too?" she raises the end of that question, brow lifting at K'del for finding him right there with her. K'del has only a rueful, sad expression for his company not being waited on - genuinely sad, even, but perhaps not unsurprisingly, if JOlie has heard anything at all of the Weyrleader's relationship with the former Headwoman, and her sudden departure. He doesn't speak of it, though, only listens, his gaze fixed on the stablehand through the darkness. "Travelling at night," he muses, brows ever so slowly raised. "Guess that's one way to do it. I-- guess I do. Like the peacefulness of it, maybe. The quiet of a late night. It can be good for thinking in." Considering that Jolie flits in and out of the Weyr, it's highly likely that the rumormill had completely bypassed her in regards to the headwoman. So it's to this end that she's frowning a bit at that sad expression on K'del's face, the woman blinking at it before she gruff out, "Don' gotta give me specifics, but if ya need an ear...." she lets that trail, seeming far too familiar with whatever deep thoughts are going on within him. Even then, she's holding out and offering the flask again if that is the better option. "I agree. Peaceful," she inclines her head to that, letting a genuine smile touch her lips. "Doesn' come often for me, but, I take it when I can. I hear congratulations are in order." Quick topic change, and the stablehand doesn't even pause. "The clutch. Know it ain' yours, but for the Weyr, ya know....must be proud." Eyes flick to him then, gauging his expression as she adds, "Of that brownrider, Taikrin, too." This time, K'del does accept the flask, taking a long swig and wiping the back of his mouth before he hands it back again. "Thanks," he says, though again, that's the extent of it, aside from a slight shake of the head. Her congratulations earn a momentary frown, followed by visible comprehension, but his lips remain something of a tight line. "Thanks. I think? Dunno. Guess we'll see. Got to see them all hatched safe and sound first, you know? Reckon Taikrin's proud enough of herself enough for anyone." Beat. "Interesting girl, that one." And not, maybe, in a good way, according to his tone. Once K'del accepts the flask and hands it back, "Thought dragonriders were all chuffed over such things like-" and she waves the flask about, at least in the direction of where the clutch is. "Missed the celebration, but I still get to hear them chatter on down in the stables. The other 'hands, too. Yer the first subdued one I encountered since." Though, stealing another look his way, she's certain his mood may have something to do with it. Taking another drink from the flask before closing it up, "Haven' seen the clutch yet, but I'll make my rounds. Never seen one, period. Da didn' let us get on to any hatchings in those days, that is." As to the brownrider, there's a dry smile to supplment K'del's remark to her. "Reckon so," she agrees, more likely for the sake of agreeing. "Ya talk as if she's trouble." Naw, couldn't be. Jo's looking amused by the tone she detects either way, watching the man as she settles more against her rock of choice. K'del's silent a moment, then says, "Well. Glad that there's excitement. Lot of people're pretty wary of the whole thing. Still some concern the eggs won't be right... Iskiveth ate firestone, once." That last is kind of an aside, a belated 'just in case you hadn't heard that, too', and it goes someway, perhaps, to explaining K'del's reticence. "Anyway. They do /look/ fine, so maybe they will be." There's a pause, and then a huffed out breath, and he explains, "Taikrin /is/ trouble. No moderation, sense of proportion. Cadejoth thinks the clutch is fine." /That/ return to the previous topic seems to come out of the blue, the rider's attention blinking out for a moment, then returning, slightly more intent upon the stablehand alongside him. "Not that I'm paying all that much attention," Jolie is quick to put in on those celebrating, regardless of the clutch. "I think some of them were too drunk to know what the reason they were celebratin' for. A little disappointed that I missed /that/." That's some humor from the stablehand, though her lack of comedic grace means that this is meant to fail. At the mention of the gold eating firestone, "Ya think the dragons will come out all messed up? Just from this-that queen dragon eating some firestone?" Clearly, she doesn't know much about the habits of dragons, so this is getting the side-eye from her towards the Weyrleader. And oh, both brows go up at those words on the brownrider. Jo's regarding K'del steadily now, dark eyes flicking over him before she says, "I see. And....Weyrs keep such trouble around? Or is it because of her dragon?" Pointed questions from a stablehand. She pauses though, letting the intensity of her gaze settle back on him for his sudden shift in topic along with that intent look in return. She's not even looking away from it either, but her brows are starting to furrow. K'del's advise on that is, "If the eggs hatch right, make sure you catch the hatching party. They're usually-- pretty good." The funny, intent expression is still on his face, though, distracting him throughout his explanation of, "Firestone is supposed to make queens infertile. Dunno if maybe she ate it wrong, or didn't eat enough, or /what/. Didn't think she'd have eggs at all. And now-- right. They could be all messed up. Or maybe not." Which is an important thing to note because instead of answering the question of Taikrin, he says, "Hopefully not. Should be perfectly fine, right? Which-- uh." Awkward pause. "Cadejoth thinks you ought to Stand for 'em." Jolie snorts a bit at K'del's advice, uncorking her flask again. "I'll keep that in mind, K'del," she answers, amusement in her voice with him. "And...well. Ya seem more certain to me that they're messed up, these eggs." That seems to get her attention more than the fact that they're not, the woman peering over to look long a pointed at him. "What if they are? What does the Weyr do?" She's all kinds of questions tonite, and yep, she's regarding the man heavily now when he doesn't answer her own on Taikrin. She looks ready to ask him again until that awkward pause and his statement on standing. It wasn't what she was expecting him to say, so there's a blink and a pause of that flask going to her mouth. "Want me to stand for messed up eggs?" she puts forth then, since that was the topic of the night. "Messed up eggs make messed up dragons, right?" Just so she's certain, she seems to ask. K'del's doing a really good job here, clearly. He looks-- intensely awkward now, shifting back and forth in his seat. "If we're very, very lucky, and they're all screwed up inside, they just won't hatch," he says, after a long moment of silence, staring off into the distance, now. "If we're not-- I don't know. Honestly." His gaze flicks back in her direction after a moment, apparently gauging her reaction to his question. "They may not be messed up at all, though. Might be perfect. Anyway-- it's okay. You don't have to say yes, or anything. Cadejoth's not usually any good at this. Or you could think about it, maybe." "Huh." That's what Jolie gives. That one sound that's not even a word is huffed out in the ensuing silence. She watches K'del fidget, letting her gaze stay firmly on his eyes even when he looks away. With the clutch may or may not being messed up, "If that bronze of yers think nothin's wrong," she hedges to say, looking briefly around as if the bronze would materialize right before them. "He reckons I should stand, then I should stand. No harm in standing, is there?" Not waiting for an answer, the stablehand's getting to her feet and brushing whatever snow or dirt that clings to her. The knife gets sheathed without a thought, then the flask goes to vanish into one of her trouser pockets. "Curious, anyway," she admits on her reason of agreeing to stand, eyes seeking out the Weyrleader's own once she straightens. "And I haven' forgotten our ride, sir," she adds that with a little wry tilt to her voice. "Still want to collect. Eventually." She'll let the questioning on Taikrin slide for now as well, but the stablehand's good at following up when she has an aim to. "No harm," agrees K'del, firmly, looking both pleased and relieved. It /would/ probably be bad form to lose a potential candidate thanks to the Weyrleader's jabbering and fearmongering. "You will. You /will/. Good. That's-- excellent. This way, you'll get to see 'em close up, those eggs." He seems somehow inclined to ramble, when he's relieved; it's kind of endearing, really. "Haven't forgotten our ride, either. I'll have to drop by some time, though I suppose you'll be in the stables less, once Mil-- the Headwomen have their way. Just report to them in the morning: they'll show you the ropes." Jolie actually smirks a little when K'del looks relieved. "This way, I can get up close and see if there's truth to ya thinkin' they're messed up," she seems to correct, flashing the bronzerider a smile and a wink. "Call it a fascination of mine for the unusual. And, good. That ride, I mean. I'm sure ya can find me. Just, ah, look in dark places?" She harks back to the very first subject, sending him a crooked smile that seems more genuine that the others before it. "Aye, I'll report to them. Reckon I'll have to sleep with all the others now?" The barracks she means, her eyes scanning the area as she slides her hands carefully into her pockets. But at least K'del /has/ recovered enough that he can laugh at Jolie's correction, head shaking with restrained mirth, however linked to ruefulness. "We can call it that, sure. Never know-- may be the ride of your life, on those sands." Or perhaps not. He seems content to remain on his boulder, but adds, after a moment, "Reckon you will, yeah. The barracks. Full of teenagers, some of whom miss their parents, and others are old enough to be parents themselves. Strange mix. You get used to it, though." With K'del laughing, at least Jolie is a little easy around him. "Ride of my life," she repeats those very words, lips quirking up at its usage before adding, "Could be an understatement, darlin'. Willin' to stick around for either way. Used to being among different types, so no strange mix will scare me. Guess I better go and check'em out. Send that bronze of yers a greetin' for me." She steps back then, looking to be on her way as fatigue starts to make its appearance in her dark features. K'del's lips twitch again, for that remark of Jolie's, and he agrees, "Could well be. Good luck with it, Jolie. And-- congratulations, mm?" He tips his head towards her, apparently genuine in this. "I'll do that." "Thanks," is Jolie's parting farewell, the Weyrleader at least getting a look over her shoulder and a lift of her grazed hand to boot. Then the new candidate's off to find the barracks, hands back in pockets and blending into the darkness. |
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