Logs:A Not-So-United Duo
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| RL Date: 12 August, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Nabol Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida and K'zin investigate. It turns out they don't work that well as a pair. But... at least no one gets stabbed (yet). |
| Where: Nabol Hold |
| When: Day 4, Month 7, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Euan/Mentions, Huelet/Mentions, Ienavi/Mentions, Rone/Mentions, Ustelan/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
| Stables, Nabol Hold
The real money, though, is in a separate, more lavish stable, housing the Holders' private stock. Spacious and well-lit, huge stalls line the aisles, holding broodmares, stallions, and the finest racers Nabol can field on the track. These expensive beasts rate the best in housing, feed, and equipment, kept in meticulous tack rooms and labeled with a plaque for each individual runner. Numerous handlers to fulfill their every need. They even have private pastures stretching far out to the back, and a full-size track upon which to practice.
There was no need for Rasavyth to kiss any blue behinds because of the hour of their call, though it wasn't much later that his message came through to Ilicaeth, a message that brought a little more detail to the day. « Clothes she doesn't mind mucking in. » And soon thereafter, a visualization of a spot well away from Nabol Hold proper, but not so far that the pair of them couldn't hoof it in a reasonable amount of time. The hoofing it, at an easy run until they got close enough, gave them plenty of time to work out the intentions of the day. Keep their heads down, try to find out as much detail as they could about what was happening, is happening, and what might happen next. K'zin's intention was for them to blend in; keep the Weyr's name out of it. They're both good in the stables, so that's where he'd planned, with maybe a trip to the kitchens to hear the juicy scuttlebutt that comes with the lunch crowd. They did need names. K'zin would be Kazin. Not so different from the way his honorific was pronounced, with just a little more vowel and a little more slur to it. *This* extra is about as non-descript as they get in general looks - hopefully - Alida dressed like a stablehand/groom/trainer - her clothes quite servicable, but with that worn-in look that suggests honest labor. While she can't hide the color of her eyes, the woman *can* alter some other things...and thus her usually well-groomed and pale hair And her brows and lashes has been rather roughly treated with liberal coatings of dust, dirt, and even some now-dried mud that render them a dank dishwater coloration. Piled only a little messily at the nape of her neck in a faintly frazzled bun, the woman's locks suggest hours of intensive work doing what a groom/trainer does, her scent the slightly pungent, yet still vaguely pleasant one of runner feed, sweat, and dung. Indeed, the pair of them fit in quite well at the Hold, and with a little less straightness to her proud back and shoulders, Alida fills her look well enough. Her own name she took from the one Jo gave her the last time the two blueriders went somewhat incognito: Sarida. No one even glances in the direction of the rider pair when they enter the stables. These are the general use stables, the ones where workrunners and the lower calibre of riding runners are kept, not the fancy breeding stock, or the mounts set aside for use by the high echelon of Nabolese society. Everyone in the stables is hard at work, going about their business without paying any mind to anyone else. As far as it seems, as long as a person looks like they belong, and looks like they're working, no one is likely to argue. K'zin is careful not to let his eyes wander too much around the stables, to draw too much attention to the fact that they're new. He does watch a moment as people move about before nodding Alida toward where there are a couple of mucking shovels without minders. There are always stables to be mucked, and it makes them look busy to be doing that sort of work while they get their bearings. It's also one of the least technical jobs that is similar Pern-over, so one that's not likely to draw the eye of the stablemaster. 'Sarida' was explained to K'zin on their way over as being a bit simple, but capable of some reading and writing, as well as being a natural with canines and runners. And right now, she's apparently acting her part well enough by being mostly quiet and holding to a vaguely pleased expression as she shovels runner shit with the best of them, though, on occasion, those heavily-lidded green eyes do flick around when she stops to stretch or rest her back for a few moments. Any that happen to greet the bluerider's gaze are given a bit of a lax smile before she goes back to her work. Alida's *ears*, however, are always perked. It's perhaps an hour before anything notable happens. Oh, before then there are occasional things to overhear: fond remarks about Ustelan, mutterings about his sons and grandsons ("That Rone, I wouldn't be surprised if he overthrow his own father to take over!"), even a few smirking comments about Ienavi ("Do you think she really is pregnant? He was eight-five! Surely that's not even possible.). And then, finally, in walks a man of about thirty, dark haired and of what would be described as 'asian' heritage, if this were earth and not Pern. He's trailed by guards, and he's not being quiet about it. "I've told your master all I know. Now I am going home to Greenfields. Stopping me isn't going to help anything." Too complicated. That was K'zin's sentiment on a backstory that included details about Sarida's abilities to read or write. Keep it simple was the mantra of the day. They were just extra hands to help in the stables and earn their day's meals. They weren't pretending to be regulars, just more of the people who come in and out and two not trying to take advantage of big Hold hospitality. This slow game of wait and see might not be Alida's preferred speed, but K'zin and Rasavyth through him were tuned in for whatever information came their way, even the bits about the sons and grandsons, every bit helping to put together Rasavyth's bigger picture. Like many in the stables, the brawny bronzer-being-stablehand lets his eyes be drawn to the man trailed by guards. He doesn't stare, but he does make sure he gets a good look at the fellow. Everything she hears - especially now that 'sir Greenfields' has entered - no matter how silly-seeming or minor, is rolodexed not only in Alida's own head, but into Ilicaeth's as well, since the blue is not only a great backup, but has the usual, draconically superior short-term memory, to boot. Not a bat of eyelashes nor flicker of hooded eyes signals the woman's facile mind digesting words for later regurgitation and assessment, her 'simple' self continuing in the natural rhythm of shoveling dung and rearranging straw bedding. Via communications between her blue and Waki's bronze, she knows exactly what her clutchsib is seeing, the details of 'Greenfield's' person, even his mannerisms noticable to her inner, mind's eye. Well, as long as Rasavyth continues to oblige the blue pair. One of the guards attempts to put his hand on the shoulder of the man from Greenfields, as if to restrain him. The tawny skinned man turns, and glowers: "If you would remove your hand, thank you very much. I am not accused of anything. I cannot legally be detained. And if you attempt to do so, I will call in the Harpers for mediation. It will do your master no good, I assure you." The hand is withdrawn, and, very calmly, the Greenfields man continues on towards one of the stalls that's rather closer to the pair of riders. K'zin is playing the game. K'zin's working with Alida. K'zin's playing his part. Rasavyth? He's not such a team player. He's not feeding direct information to Ilicaeth. He's not entirely silent however. He's sending glimpses of things that are interesting! Things that, if only Ilicaeth would play the game, he might be willing to share, but for now remain his secret (unless it's something everyone sees, in which case he doesn't bother. Why bother sending information that is so cheap?). Keep their heads down, listen for what the could, that's what they agreed. But what's life without a little risk. K'zin set his shovel against the wall of the stall, stepping just outside it as the Greenfields gent draws nearer, "Need a hand, sir?" His tone is clear but there's a lilt of the common, stable-working man there. (So similar to the lilts of the kitchen-working or the laundry-tending man that they'd be wholly interchangeable. Amazingly.) If Alida could allow herself the luxury of looking and feeling pissed off right now, she would. Ilicaeth too is deeply vexed by his bronze brother's shitty work 'ethic,' but instead of rounding on Rasavyth, the pair continue on as usual without much more than a faint twitch at the corner of the woman's mouth. But ahh... mister Greenfields draws nearer, and with K'zin's inquiry of helping him comes the disguised-blonde's looking up to oggle the unknown man with her simple smile and an aimable nod to second K'zin. Suggested in a light tone of voice, "Prancer's a steady one." The runner over there with the nameplate of the same moniker, the beasts' habits and reactions having earlier been observed and quietly noticed by the woman. The young man barely registers either of K'zin or Alida, at first, so focused is he on his stalking walk away from the guards (though it isn't as though said guards have actually stopped following). But then he stops, turning, his dark gaze shifting from one to the other. "I don't need steady," he says. "Give me fast. I'd ride my own, but--" Evidently, he decides against giving more information than he needs to to stablehands who clearly don't need to know. "Saddle me up and then I'm out of here." (To Alida): It's as you look up that you catch sight of something-- dark hair poking out from the hayloft, dark eyes watching you with a certain amount of knowingness. And then the face is gone again, hidden from view. Curt, to the point, and still peripherally ticked off: « ALIDA gives the open knowledge of this... » It's as you look up that you catch sight of something-- dark hair poking out from the hayloft, dark eyes watching you with a certain amount of knowingness. And then the face is gone again, hidden from view. « We're bein' watched. » (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) K'zin turns his head toward the bluerider at her words. Once his face is away from the Greenfieldsman, the expression is briefly all too plain: what are you doing?! By the time he's looking back to the young man, it's with a simple friendly smile, "I'm afraid we're not the lot in charge of assigning mounts to Hold guests. We just muck and know a thing or two. I'd thought you'd be saddling up your own mount, sir." There's apology in K'zin's baritone for that. "If you're wanting to use a Hold mount, you've got to talk to someone above my pay grade, I'm afraid. I'm only in charge of the shit, and even that sometimes gets the better o'me." He starts backing toward his shovel, look still apologetic. (To Alida): That look that K'zin gave you? If that face up in the hayloft is still there, still watching, he or she almost certainly caught it. The information is received with due appreciation - the irritation ignored. « Noted and notable. One thing at a time. First, let's not get ourselves » and by that he surely means the riders, « brought in for whipping by surrendering a mount that isn't ours to give to a man apparently 'of interest' to the Hold guard, shall we? » (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth) 'Sarida' is, after all, not fully possessed of her wits, and so, with 'Kazin's' look comes her own (playing) daft return of a pleasantly thick look, and a guileless, "Weren't we told to help people?" Her accent is Nabolese, but the woman is shrugging a little, then getting back to work. "Sorry..." is murmured back to the Greenfields gent around a simple, if embarrassed smile. *Inside*, however, Alida seethes quietly. « Fuck it all! K'zin's not playin' it right! » There's the 'look' he gave Alida, and then the previous angle of that observing face from above. If they're still there (likely), then they probably saw it! (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) "Oh for--" The man throws up his hands in disgust, turns on his heels, and strides away, off in search of someone who will help him. And that really might be the end of the encounter, except that a gentle rain of straw is falling from the hayloft above... first a little bit, and then a little more. And a little more. To Ilicaeth, Rasavyth doesn't rise to the bait of emotion. « And what did the watcher see? A stableman covering his ass and the ass of his friend? Saved them from a whipping? » He almost sounds bored by the assumptions Ilicaeth has made. Riposted darkly, « Neither uv' you's a guard. You might think yerself wise...butcha' don't have *her* experience. » Chuff. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) Kazin's next move is simple, he's picking up the shovel and back to work, making noise as he does it. It's a flow of chatter, inconsequential about his evening plans. He makes it sound like there's even someone answering him, just too soft to be heard, with appropriate lulls for response. Meanwhile, he seeks Alida's eyes, and simply gives a nod toward the nearest ladder to the loft, a simple point to himself and the other two. It's a simple enough plan: she goes up, he watches the other exits, and not obviously conveyed. Sarida just continues doing her duty, moving around and scooping up runner shit as she shifts about. A few silent and non-noticable exchanges with Ilicaeth presage some of her more open words about 'more straw' for bedding, the woman working hard to maintain a softly smiling visage when she'd rather have a few words with K'zin and especially Rasavyth right now. Feeling less in control of this situation as it goes along, and *not* happy at *all* about such, the guard strides over to the ladder, and quiet quietly starts climbing...with attendent caution and readiness. (To Alida): When your head sticks up into the hayloft, there's no one visible; nor does a good search seem to come up with anything, though there's definitely a warm spot by the edge where someone had been. (To K'zin): No one comes down any of the visible ladders; no one seems to come or go at all. Except-- a scruffy looking kid in his mid-teens emerges from one of the stalls, sidling past you. "Gazebo at midnight," he murmurs, without paying you any visible attention. "Can sell you anything you want to know. Damn sight cheaper than getting caught." He doesn't miss a step-- just keeps going, all the way to the exit and out into the summer morning. K'zin keeps to his work, minding the muck. Once Alida's gone and said about more hay, he drops his feigned conversation. For what's the point now? If his eyes flick toward a passing teen, or down toward where the Greenfields man headed, it's no more or less than they've wandered the rest of the day. He keeps busy, while waiting for news from above. Still playing her part, in case of more prying eyes, 'Sarida' moves about, grabbing a bale of said hay, and grunting it around, then calling out "Look out belooow!" around a grin before she drops the thing down onto the floor...the woman soon following it as she climbs back down. "We're going to need more hay up there soon..." is note in Nabolese fashion to Kazin, while green eyes burrow into his browns. Nothing there. K'zin keeps to his work, minding the muck. Once Alida's gone and said about more hay, he drops his feigned conversation. For what's the point now? If his eyes flick toward a passing teen, or down toward where the Greenfields man headed, it's no more or less than they've wandered the rest of the day. He keeps busy, while waiting for news from above. Still playing her part, in case of more prying eyes, 'Sarida' moves about, grabbing a bale of said hay, and grunting it around, then calling out "Look out belooow!" around a grin before she drops the thing down onto the floor...the woman soon following it as she climbs back down. "We're going to need more hay up there soon..." is note in Nabolese fashion to Kazin, while green eyes burrow into his browns. Nothing there. Again, so kindly and pointedly sharing: « We see a bale of hay...shifted around out uv order...above one uv the stalls. » (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) Just before Alida climbs down, the Greenfields man can be seen mounting up one of the runners further down the stables, the reins held by a groom. There's an exchange of words between them, a tip of the head from one to the other, and then the Greenfields man is off. (To Alida): You, however, might just catch something of it: "There you go, lord Euan. Have a good trip." "Until my sister is returned, and her son acknowledged, Bentley, there can be no good trips. But I will be glad to be rid of this place, that's true." (To Alida): It's only after you've climbed back down again that your firelizard might notice that there is some hay disturbed, a bale shifted just away from the others, just above one of the stalls. "Not before lunch, I hope." Kazin calls back to the woman above, but it doesn't make him miss a beat. "We're off for that soon, right?" He queries, as though she were the one to ask. His eyes follow the departing runner and man briefly, but not long. No mystery where he's going; or at least, where he says he's going. "Is it lunch time already?" Sarida inquires guilelessly, mopping her brow upon one shirt sleeve, then leaning down and in to heft that hay bale up, and walk it over to the front of the stall beside the one over which that errant bale in the loft was placed. Dusting off her hands, then reaching in slowly to pet the nose of the brown runner inside the stall, the woman then notes to Kazin, "I'm really hungry today." (To Alida): There's nothing on the ground in that stall, but there is a hatch in the ceiling. Ah. "Then let's finish up here to be all the sooner to the kitchens for lunch." Kazin answers cheerily and bends his head to the task at hand, to all appearances, focusing solely on it for the benefit of his stomach. "Yeah!" Sadira notes brightly to her companion, then working like a plowing runner herself to get their work done. It shouldn't take much longer. There are more rumours to be heard at lunch: stories of how Huelet really is losing his marbles, stories about his eldest son's ambitions, stories about how some of the younger sons and grandsons are actively discussing their own prospects. After all, if no heir has been named... anyone has a chance, right? But there are no more sightings of the strange figure from the stables, and no more interactions with anyone of note. It's all... interesting. (To Alida): Just before you depart, however, there's one more thing to overhear: "I just bet lord Euan knows more than he's saying. You don't get to be that close to a person like the Lady without being her confidant." After they're returned to the Weyr, there's a curt message from Ilicaeth: « Alida wants ta speak with ya. » No... Not K'zin... with Rasavyth. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) To Ilicaeth, Rasavyth's response is simple. « I am in the bowl not far from the living cavern. » Rasavyth, as his communication indicated, is settled near the living cavern, his wings wrapped in their usual cloak, straps still about his neck. Ilicaeth lands them crisply, then remains where he is while Alida steps towards Rasavyth with militaristic precision. When she's within ten feet of him, her hard gaze stares up-up into his own huge eyes, the woman then speaking low-voiced, but quite plainly. "This has very little 'n nothin' ta do with K'zin." Unspoken: and everything with to do with you. "You coulda' put shit in jeopardy back there by holdin' back on potentially important information at a critical juncture." There's not only anger in her alto, but professional rancor. "You may enjoy playin' games, but shit like that is not a fuckin' game." Beyond them, Ilicaeth's eyes whirl orange, his tail lashing some at the Bowl's floor. "In a group mission, people share all relevant information...or beings might just wind up caught...or worse." The blonde's jaw is hard, her frame leaning in a little towards the bronze. "If you ever pull that shit again when me 'n mine 'r handed a mission with you 'n yers - directly 'r indirectly - I will go around ya' 'r above yer head so fast ya won't know if it was yer own tail that hitcha' in the ass 'r my boot." Just under the surface, the guard is fuming. "Learn some fucking *ethics* regardin' hazardous duty." To Ilicaeth, Rasavyth's response is cool as a cucumber. « You may tell your rider that she will not need to concern herself with our behavior in group missions from now on. The partnership is hereby terminated. We wish you the best. » And then there's naught but a wall, a solid, invisible wall that blocks further attempts to communicate. And physically? It's like neither she nor Ilicaeth exist to him. It was a potential outcome of this confrontation, but still, both Ilicaeth and Alida are a little floored when Rasavyth announces such as coldly as he does. Just as chill in return, Alida notes to the bronze as she pivots on a bootheel to return to Ilicaeth, "An' we'll both be better off for it." Soon enough, the woman mounts up on her blue - whose eyes now whirl a slow red - the pair then taking off for the sky, where they soon wink Between for places unknown. |
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