Logs:Not a Punishment
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| RL Date: 21 June, 2015 |
| Who: A'rist, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Ierne Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del has a 'proposal' of sorts. |
| When: Day 18, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'stean/Mentions, F'manis/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Summer/Mentions |
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| It's the middle of a chilly afternoon when Cadejoth-- circling the spindles and sharing his pleasure quite audibly to the rest of the weyr-- narrows in his band of communication and reaches for Lythronath. « He wants to see yours, » he reports. « In our weyr. » His tone is too casual for this to be obvious reprimand... and if it were serious business, the venue would probably be the council chambers. So that's good, right? The weyr, when A'rist arrives, is cozily warm; K'del has propped his socked feet up in front of the hearth as he works through some paperwork. Cadejoth was lucky to catch them at home; they've been frequently away these days, away and nowhere, recalled easily enough, but with no stories of people nor dragons upon their return. But today, Lythronath is adding to the gore that covers his ledge. Today, he is there to look up, sniff after Cadejoth, and bellow out a reply that echoes over the bowl. No words to manifest, but the sense that it is heard, that they'll come. And soon enough, A'rist is inside, tugging off his gloves, loosening his jacket about his shoulders, and looking ill at ease when he comes upon the weyrleader. K'del will have missed the frowning glance to the weyrwoman's weyr that occurred on the ledge. Cadejoth? Cadejoth is not in residence when A'rist arrives; that frowning glance will have to go by unnoticed, unlamented, unmissed. As the younger bronzerider arrives, however, K'del straightens, hastily drawing his feet back towards the ground and gesturing him towards the couch. "A'rist, come on in. Drink? Klah-- something stronger?" His tone is easy enough; friendly, even approaching warm. "Wanted to see how things were going." There is always Lythronath. The bronze stares at that weyr, curiousity piqued by the memories from his rider, the vague sense of something in himself. He isn't a dragon to dwell, but he stays a time, after his rider has left the ledge. "Um," says A'rist in response to the offer of the drinks, looking around the weyr, looking at the rug, and looking, finally, at the couch. "Whatever you're having," is answered only once he's certain of the purpose of the visit. He sits. He frowns. "Things... why?" As A'rist sits, K'del stands, reaching up to the mantle to get down a bottle and some glasses. It's rum, not whiskey, and he pours only a small measure in each glass, offering one to the younger rider. "Because Taiga may not be my wing, but I still pay attention. And we've noticed how little here you're. Noticed..." A long pause. There are things K'del could mention, his expression says, but he doesn't. "We thought you might be interested in an opportunity." It's sudden and fleeting, that hit of emotion on the younger bronzerider's face. His expression is easy enough to school; the only trace of it left is the slightest glisten in his eyes. Must've been snowing outside or something. Melted. "What's that?" There's no attempt on A'rist's part, at least, to feign disinterest. But he's careful. And slow, when he reaches for that glass. K'del relinquishes the glass carefully, only once he's sure A'rist has a firm grip upon it. Silently, he returns to his seat, considering his own glass for long seconds before he focuses his attention back on the other bronzerider. "I'd like you to spend some time at Ierne. A few months... perhaps a turn. Depends how it goes, really. B'stean's doing some interesting things, and... it'd be a good opportunity for you. Belyth and Iovniath, they'd probably be good for Lythronath." "Ierne," repeats A'rist. He knows it. And nods to the mention of his dragon. "Strong?" It's a word that carries weight, with a sharp gaze that's meant, at least, to carry meaning. More important than that, though, enough he leans forward, and blinks once, hard, is, "What would we do there?" "Not hugely familiar with Belyth, except in passing, but Iovniath..." K'del's nod is firm. Strong. "Be careful with Tiriana, though; she still hates my guts and may well take it out on you... or maybe she's grown up." He seems to doubt it. "You'd... you'd be put to work. As active and as involved as possible. They'd keep you busy." "Golds are more important." Simple fact, that only afterwards does A'rist think to look a bit uncomfortable about, speaking to an older bronzerider as he is. That discomfort lasts only slightly longer than the earlier emotional flash. A'rist looks at his rum, rather than sips it. "Both of us?" The right side of K'del's mouth turns upwards into a crooked smile, which is acknowledgement enough: golds are important. "Both of you," he confirms. "It'd be... a clean slate, if you like. Chance to work things out, explore new possibilities. Hope it'd be good for both of you. Perspective, if you like. Seems like a lot of us could benefit from seeing how other places do things differently." There's no nod, this time; A'rist sits back, and swirls his rum around his glass. The acceptance comes in the consideration that marks his tone. "Only a few months, or maybe longer?" And pursuant to that, "We'd be able to come back, though." He looks up to meet the weyrleader's gaze, if he can, when he specifies, "Before Roszadyth goes up." K'del lifts his own glass towards his nose to sniff at it, inhaling the liquor for a few moments as A'rist speaks. Mention of Roszadyth raises an eyebrow, but it's a nod that follows. "You'd be able to come back. To visit, as often as you liked. And... it would be an open-ended arrangement. A few months, at least, but open to review." And then, low-voiced, "Roszadyth." It's a question without being one; curious, but not probing. "Good," muses the younger. He closes his eyes, then, fingers idly lacing around the glass. "If we're still from here," and a shrug, the seeming explanation for that curiosity. Eyes are still closed when he lifts the glass, and tilts it carefully, until liquid reaches his lips. "They know? Lythronath?" Plainly, there's more K'del would ask regarding Roszadyth, but he refrains. Instead, he takes a careful sip from his glass, turns aforementioned glass in his hand, and then nods, rather more cautiously. "There is... won't deny that it gave me cause. The last thing I want is for Lythronath to injure another weyr's dragons. Trust you'll... do your best." It's an uneasy subject, plainly. "Their queens won't hesitate to ground him from flights if they need to." "We haven't," says A'rist. "Not in another Weyr. Not since the first time." Leiventh and Zmeyth don't count. They're compatriots. "Green flights don't have to be... If it's only a few months, we don't even have to fly. Don't need queens to keep him down. Just won't keep him down all the time. At home." It's turning into apology, and that seems to sour the taste of A'rist's rum. He stops it all. "They know the rest? He's not... We're not..." Like others. Awkward topic is awkward, though at least K'del manages to nod his confirmation/approval/understanding/assent. "They know there are some... unusual considerations," is what he says, unwilling to go further than that. "It's all been worked out. As long as you're both willing to go." "Both of us," A'rist echoes, with a not-very-subtle look to the ledge - though Lythronath has since left, gone to join Cadejoth if he can manage it, to pester, to push, to test. "Irianke's in on this too." His turn for a question that's also not, mouth twisting into some sort of grimace. "She's aware," says K'del, simply, watching A'rist. "But this was my-- my thought. F'manis', too." And then, quietly: "It's not a punishment." Cadejoth's too happy to be perturbed by company, even the testing kind; he can test in turn, if not in kind, throwing himself into this angle and that, circling higher and higher, and then lower and lower. It's hard to make the ground shake, when you're airborne, but Faranth knows Lythronath is going to try, while keeping up with Cadejoth. And occasionally pointing this fact out with insistent calls of, « Cadejoth. » A'rist nods for the acting weyrwoman's awareness. Swallows, and acknowledges, "Yeah," for the specification. "Least he'll keep fed. At a Weyr. Right? Traders didn't want to feed him." A quick sidelong look to K'del. "Not worth enough these days." K'del's wryness sounds tired when he says, "Likely the holds don't terribly care about feeding him, either. Or any of us. But--" But. But something, something he doesn't specify; something he shakes away with a shake of his head. "If it doesn't work out, doesn't work, you can be back in a month or two. But... I'd encourage you to make the most of it. See how different weyrs work. See, for me, what ideas you can bring back that we can use. I'm interested in knowing what you think, about how they work. And..." His mouth twitches. "In how Tiriana's doing." "Okay," nods A'rist, confidence in this idea growing. "Okay," again, more personally, for the weyrwoman's name. The rum finds his lips again, and when the glass is lowered, "You know we're - I'm... I know it's not easy, with us. Less now. It's not like I don't appreciate it or anything." "I know," says K'del. "Wish it were... for your sake, even, more than mine, or F'manis', or Irianke's, or anyone's. But it is. It just... is what it is. And we're working on it." He tips his head forward, just once, then takes another sip. "You can escape winter and head down there for summer; lucky." A'rist nods, the weight of it all holding his tongue down again. The decision's becoming real. He finishes what little is left of the rum. "Get all dark," is finally pushed out with a bit of an uncertain smile, not really the usual smirk. "Maybe Lynner's hide will heal up some." All the healing. "Mm," agrees K'del, lounging backwards-- a sure sign that he's relieved, if even faintly, at how this has gone. "Be good for him. For both of you. Ierne's on an island; that'll be different." Beat. "Take a day or two, if you need to. Let F'manis and I know when you're ready to go. They'll be ready for you, down south." "Yeah. I think we'll... I have to make sure, is all. And see some people." But A'rist nods, and leans forward with that empty glass. "We know how to find you, right?" K'del straightens again; so much for lounging. Partly, it's so he can reach out to take that empty glass within his own empty hand. But it's more than that, too; something more solid. "Of course," he agrees. "Take as much time as you need. B'stean knows to expect you, and we'll give him formal notice once you're ready. And... even once you're down there, no need to be a stranger." "Thanks." To all of it. A'rist is up from his chair, assuming dismissal. He'll probably have to take the stairs back down to the bowl, though. Lythronath's still bugging Cadejoth. More insistently, in fact. And Cadejoth? He still doesn't seem to care. K'del... he rises, as A'rist does, but his only rejoiner is a nod; as the younger bronzerider departs, his expression turns thoughtful, and quietly wry. |
Comments
Alida (03:42, 22 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
Always enigmatic, yet somehow forthright at the same time, is A'rist.
Edyis (23:35, 22 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
I admit I'm really interested to see what they learn from the exchange. A'rist's struggle with his own humanity in the shadow of Lythronath's otherness has always been fascinating. Horrifying at times yes, but utterly fascinating.
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