Logs:Making a Difference
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| RL Date: 15 October, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del calls in another Savannah rider to talk about the future. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Bristia/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
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| He's been talking to them all, the High Reachian Savannah riders, and even some of those who aren't-- anyone who might intend to stay. Telavi's further down the list than some, but perhaps that's because her placement is less time sensitive (or so he might presume). It's afternoon, now, as snow falls outside, when Cadejoth reaches for Solith to invite her rider down. At her leisure. If she's up for it. K'del won't even be sitting behind the great table when she arrives, having, instead, risen to pour himself a drink and lean, idly, up against a tapestry-covered wall. Leisure isn't at all long; Tela slips back the fur-lined hood, cream to the golden glimmer of her hair, nigh as soon as she enters the comparative warmth-- if not the hominess-- of the chamber, snowflakes on her hood and her shoulders and Solith's wings as the green shakes them away. It's cold. "You called-- sir?" precedes the rest of her light-footed steps within. "Tela," says K'del, straightening. Only this is the Council Chambers, and even if his gaze is searching hers for visible emotion, he does seem to be aware. "Telavi. Come in. How... are things? Can I offer you a drink?" It might be just the cold that's brought color to her cheeks; she's pale beneath it, powder imperfect at concealing the signs of poor sleep, and of course that can't touch the intentness in dark blue eyes. Summoned. "Oh, please do," Telavi says; after a second look at him, she unbuttons her coat but leaves it about her shoulders, a sweater of soft blue beneath. Her hands hide within the sleeves; she doesn't ask what's to become of her. "Thank you." K'del's own drink is set down upon the table-- upon a coaster that has been left there, naturally-- so that he can turn back to the collection of bottles so as to pour one for the greenrider. It's only as he extends it towards her that, much more quietly, he says, "Know it's been difficult. For a lot of people, but for you... you and your wingmates... you'll say if there's anything I can do to help?" Tela comes to takes the drink, less in a hurry to take it from him, though that comes too; she glances down at it and then back up, with a small laugh. "Demand that we meet once a season for awkward conversation and 'remember when's? Thank you-- I just don't know how you could. It's not like Boreal." Boreal. K'del acknowledges this with a nod. And, "Not sure that an enforced seasonly meet-up would suit anyone, in truth. But-- no, of course. I understand." He does... or at least he believes he does, those eyes sad and thoughtful and a long way off a smile. "There'll be weyrlings, soon, which..." He pauses, then corrects himself, "Not to imply that it will take your mind of it or what-have-you. But, if you're still happy with your assistant weyrlingmaster duties?" There's another downward glance; when it comes up, this time Telavi's biting her lower lip; she's curled her fingers about the glass but not moved to sip. "I couldn't leave Quinlys in the lurch," she says quickly, firmly. "It's a lot for her, and I know the ropes. It's not, though, everything I want to do and be." "What else, then?" K'del prompts, though surely he has some inkling of the answer. "When the weyrlings are finished?" "'Making a difference,'" gets wry verbal quotes, a dance of her fingers before she sips. "'Part of a team,' but finding out," Tela says, less with dimples than clear eyes seeking his. "I don't know everything that got reported back to you... but even when we didn't find out what we wanted to, like when we were looking for the cart--" does he know? she looks for it in his eyes-- "we could at least cross something off the list." Solemn, K'del reclaims his drink, though he doesn't seem inclined to sit. "Mm," he agrees. If there's anything there he didn't know, he's not sharing that intel, now. "Savannah's ruined you all for normal wing work, hasn't it?" But that's not serious-- he's too thoughtful for that. "There's not going to be another Savannah. Couldn't be, really; nothing is ever the same." "No. Even if Bristia--" had stayed; hadn't left them; hadn't taken the others back. Telavi's moving, turning, the tails of her coat flaring. "If she had, it would still have been different. But she didn't try, K'del." What can K'del say that is even remotely helpful, to that? He hesitates, then sips, then swallows, and only then: "She had an opportunity to mend bridges," he says. "To let people she cared about have their homes back. Isn't that a worthy thing?" "It wasn't all or nothing, was it?" Telavi asks, really asks. "It wasn't, 'you all can come back but only if she does'?" "No." K'del's sure of that, and conveys it in the firmness of his tone and the shake of his head. "She chose, Telavi. Can imagine that maybe she didn't want to try and live up to how things used to be-- don't even know if Savannah is sticking together when it gets back to Monaco, at that." Telavi's nod is quick, decisive, loosening her hair where it's been caught in the folds of her hood. "I'd believe that." Though the implications of that last-- "I'd believe that she could mend bridges, too, that everyone who goes back will, it doesn't take a wingsecond or wingleader to do that, as long as they aren't all, 'At High Reaches we did it that way. She runs a hand along her hair, freeing it further in a sweep to one side. "It's just hard to see someone you-- admire-- not only go, but choose to go." "I know," says K'del, simply, one corner of his mouth twisting up ruefully, but not into anything that properly resembles a smile. "Going to be hard for a lot of people. And... Tela. Don't think I want to forget everything you learned." His gaze has dropped towards the amber liquid in his glass. "Oh?" Tela, Telavi, pivots for a closer look at him without coming nearer. K'del's shoulders shrug. "Never going to be another Savannah," he reiterates. "Doesn't mean there'll never be a call for those skills. Occasionally." He's half-watching her, but perhaps pretending that he's not. It's a subtle thing, the way she's lifted to the balls of her feet, hoping. "'Occasionally," should by contrast come with a tiny shrug, an offhanded glance; it doesn't. "I could pretend to be blase' about it," Telavi says simply, though it can't hurt, the number of days that have passed. "If it helps." "There's no need to pretend," is K'del's reply, interrupted by another sip from the glass he turns and turns within his hand. "Don't know what the future is going to bring, but the possibility is there. For the moment..." A pause. A question? "You can reach me," Telavi can be quietly certain: 'can,' not 'will.' "If you're ever curious." But she has a question: "We established certain-- identities. People, that fit in. Do you have thoughts on my keeping mine... alive?" Another turn; a quarter-turn, really, the glass smooth beneath K'del's fingers. "I--" he begins, then stops. It's a difficult thing, one that has his brow furrowing in consideration. "Hadn't thought of that," is what he says, finally. "Have no objection to them staying around, staying active. Makes it easier in the long run, if you do need them again." He punctuates that with a nod, confirmation and conclusion. She nods too, a blonde mirror too tilted to be copycat. "I'll do that, then," Tela says. "Quietly." And, quietly this way too, "If you'd think to check in on me again, before the weyrlings graduate-- I don't expect it, but I'd appreciate it. It's sounding like... things might be different still, by then." "Change," begins K'del. "Change, change, constant change. Of course I'll check in, Tela," that last is quiet but unquestionably genuine; warm, too. "Before we start thinking wings for the weyrlings, even, I'll check in and see what you want." Need. "Promise." It's what she'd asked for, and yet it's more than what she'd asked, maybe more than what she might have hoped; "Thank you," Telavi says, relief in those blue-green eyes. She smiles, too, only a little tremulous, and then awaits his pleasure as to whether to go. That relief-- that's good. That's good enough that it allows K'del's expression to relax into something more closely related to an actual, genuine smile. "You're welcome," he tells the greenrider, firmly. "Stay safe, mm? Quinlys'll need you, this time around, and that's another way of making a difference." That smile-- "It is, and I'm glad to," Telavi agrees, "even with the sacrifice of sleep." That last can tease just a little, for all that sleep's serious business even in serious times. "Stay safe yourself." She changes color, then half-laughs and, "Yes, that." Up goes her hood, so helpful, and she leaves. K'del's laugh may follow her out, and his called: "If you end up with my boys in there... do your best." It's only a passing concern. For now, leaning up against the wall once more, he shuts his eyes, and breathes. Another end, tied up neatly (if temporarily). |
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