Logs:Worse than a Criminal
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| RL Date: 25 February, 2010 |
| Who: Brenoran, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Area, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana does a good deed. Sort of! |
| Where: Tiriana and R'uen's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 1, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
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The Weyrwoman's weyr begins as a narrow corridor from the complex, a wooden door blocking it off from the drafts there. A side hall and another door lead to the ledge, while the weyr itself opens up at the back into a lushly appointed chamber. A small dining area is set to one side: a well-made table and chairs with clean lines, and a cabinet that holds glasses and spirits, mostly hard liquors instead of wine. Past the dining setup, a large couch of soft gray marks the living area, flanked by more dark wood endtables and another pair of chairs, one velvety crimson and the other black leather. A white fur rug covers the stone floor in front of the granite hearth, its mantle kept clear but a fire almost always stoked up. The Weyrwoman's cluttered desk is to one side of it, well-stuffed bookcases to the other. At the back, a separate chamber opens into sleeping quarters, dominated by an impressive four-poster bed with white sheets, deep red quilts, and a collection of dark furs for added warmth. A couple of big wardrobes hold clothes, with another dresser for assorted storage. A full-length mirror stands in one corner, near the bathing chamber marked off with a clean white curtain. It's filled with sundry bath salts and other toiletries, each in neat little jars. In the afternoon, her first convict is slated to arrive, and Tiriana waits restlessly. She's not patient at the best of times, and today is likely not even that, as she paces from the door to her dining table and back again, waiting on the guards to drag in her first victim. Maybe she was hoping for him to be dragged in, but Brenoran walks of his own accord though he is indeed escorted by those very same guards the Weyrwoman was awaiting. A clearing of the throat of one of the guards announces their presence if the sound of footsteps on the stone might not have been enough. When Brenoran arrives with the guards, Tiriana stills her restive behavior, stopping by the table and leaning her weight against its side, arms crossed. "You can go," she tells the guards, and they hesitate a long moment until she glowers at them. Then they go, hovering just outside the weyr, and Tiriana and Brenoran are left alone. "Well?" she begins. Brenoran glances towards the guards and when they leave he stands up a little straighter. "Weyrwoman," he greets with a slight nod. That one word, her 'well' catches him however and after a second or two filled with a blink and a touch of confusion he turns it right back on her. "Well?" she was the one who wanted to see him after all. Not the other way around. "Yes, well," Tiriana affirms with characteristic impatience, as though Brenoran is supposed to know exactly what she means and go from there. She clarifies, at least, in the next beat, "Well. What do you have to say for yourself now?" "Well.." Brenoran starts again, attempting to figure out where to go next with the conversation in that short space before things are explained. Or perhaps not so much explained but somewhat elaborated upon. "Dunno Ah got anythin' Ma'am," he replies. A huff of breath, and Tiriana slides further up on her table, letting her legs swing idly. "Have a seat," she suggests, with a jerk of her head toward the one at the end of the table. A pitcher of water, glasses, and a plate of snacks are set up there. "Nothing? Nothing at all? Not 'oh, yes, Weyrwoman, I'm so thrilled for this chance and I won't let you down'? Or maybe 'I'd rather die smushed underground than have one of your flying beasts inside my skull'?" A glance towards the seat suggested and after a brief pause Brenoran moves to it, sliding down into the chair. The snacks and glasses are noted, but not reached for. Not yet anyway. Who knows what's in there given her. "'Pose all that'd work, but no, ain't really got nothin' ta say. Ain't my choice Ah impress or what. Figure its a chance fer meh ta get somewhere, so if ya an' the weyr think Ah'm worth it, well Ah'll work hard. 'Preciate the chance." "Not us that you have to impress--well, not really," says Tiriana, with a more reasonable shrug. "Already caught some dragon's eye; just got to catch a hatchling's and--we'll go from there." That earns a frown, thoughtful though it is; and then she says, "You're the one with the sister." Brenoran raises a brow at all that, but for the time he keeps any words he might have to himself. Safer that way generally. "Like ya said Ma'am, we'll go from there." That's his theory on it all at any rate. Work hard, do his best, and hopefully it'll take him somewhere other than the mines. That last statement causes him pause however, but after a moment he nods only once. "Yes 'm Ah gotta sister." After a moment of perching there on the table, Tiriana straightens again and seats herself like a normal person, opposite Brenoran. The water and the snacks are both pushed toward him, albeit with relatively little real interest. "And where is she now?" Brenoran watches in relative silence, but as that question is asked he shakes his head. A look down towards his lap as if that might give some insight. "Dunno. Ain't heard nothin'. Got caught," she knows that part at least, "An'..." Shrug. A touch of indifference on the surface perhaps, but what's really there in his manner is failure at taking care of the girl. "I see," with a level look at Brenoran again. Tiriana's fingers tap on the table a moment, thinking; then, "And it never occurred to you to go looking?" "Ain't had much of a chance," Brenoran replies. "Asked bout 'er, but..." There wasn't so much he could do. At least not without causing more problems for the both of them if he were able to track her down. "But you what. Figured that was good enough?" The Weyrwoman's tone turns skeptical, and she leans back in her chair, even tipping it up on two legs. "You asked; that's all you could do. Or you figured somebody'd pick her up, and do Faranth knows what with her, but hey, at least you're free--of her, anyway. Because I can't say I'd ever leave /my/ sister on her own, and then have the nerve to just shrug and claim, 'I don't have anything to say for myself.'" Brenoran shakes his head, "No." That's not what he meant. But how to say what he means is coming to him. He's not one who's so much for words after all. "Ah ain't happy bout it," he retorts, a flare of anger touching his voice. "But wasn't nothin' Ah could do stuck in the mines." "I don't buy it," Tiriana answers, just a little smug. "There's ways, still. Letters and friends and all those sorts. And hell, don't you criminal types always have underground connections? The sort of people who can make stuff happen?" She cocks her head, eyes Brenoran up and down one more time. "And it's not like you're stuck down there anymore, anyway. What's your excuse /now/?" Brenoran swallows somewhat hard at that. A flare of nostrals at the mention of criminal types. "Ah ain't a criminal." Really, one slip up does not a criminal make. At least in his mind. "Have ta have someone ta write to," problem one with that situation, and problem two, "An' now well... dunno where ta start even. Not like Ah can get outta her so easy anyway." Winter is not the easiest season for travel, and apparently he hasn't though of requesting help from a rider. "Please," scoffs Tiriana. "If nothing else, there's harpers. They all know each other, and if anybody's seen some random kid, it'd be one of them. And you're in a whole Weyr full of riders, too, so you're going to have to try harder if you want an excuse to hold water. --Are you actually going to eat anything or was that just a wasted gesture?" She nods toward the food laid out before him. "Ah..." Brenoran starts, trying to find words to fix the hole he's fallen into. "Ain't tryin' ta make excuses fer no one, least me." But Tiriana's on a roll now, and breezes right past Brenoran's attempted explanation. "Well, duh. There are no excuses. Either you're out there looking for your baby sister, or you're a--well. Worse than just a criminal, I figure," she says. Brenoran frowns, his gaze flicking from Tiriana down to his fidgeting hands. "Ah.. Ah hate ta ask it of ya," he starts, looking back up to address the Weyrwoman as seriously as he can. "But.. Ah would like ta look for 'er, if ya'd be willin' ta lend a hand..?" Maybe? Hopefully? And that, it would seem, is the right answer, as Tiriana's mouth curves into a slow, oh-so-smug smirk. "Guards," she hails them, waiting as they are just outside; they come running, as though they expect one of the pair to be bleeding out or something. "Brenoran," and the Weyrwoman gestures broadly to the candidate, "is going to talk to the harpers. Now. --And for Faranth's sake, take this too. Do you /want/ me to get fat or something?" And the plate of snacks is shoved rather desperately at said convict. Brenoran blinks first as the guards are called for. "Oh, um... thank ya," he says, turning back to Tiriana, all seriousness in his voice. "Ma'am," he nods as he finds his feet. "Thank you." Again. A hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his lips. "An' um... no," he shakes his head. Safe answer there and he reaches for the tray, set to take it with him even if he'll not be the one to eat it. At least he can get it out of her way. With her treats shoved off on the convict and his guards, Tiriana steps back and looks quite pleased with herself. "Good," she tells him. "Now go. And--keep me updated, of course. I'm watching you convicts, you know." And she tries to look stern, but it's hard even for her to be that and quite so self-satisfied, too. Good deed for the week, done! Brenoran nods again by way of acknowledgement of her words. "Yes Ma'am," he replies. "Be sure ta let ya know," he assures, another "Thank ya Ma'am," added before he turns towards the door to be escorted out and off to speak with the harpers. And look, they both managed to remain civil through the whole conversation this time. |
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