Logs:Like Father Like Son
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| RL Date: 31 January, 2016 |
| Who: Farideh, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hungover Farideh talks to K'del about his sons. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 12, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Kasey/Mentions, N'klas/Mentions |
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| The day is early yet and the council chambers are already occupied by the acting weyrwoman. As is customary, there are the usual refreshments -- klah, water, juice, snacks -- and paperwork on the table, but the woman herself is slouched unseemly in the lead chair. She's got her arms crossed on the table, her head pillowed by them, and her whole appearance looks-- disheveled, not very Farideh-like. Otherwise, it's another day and oh is it bright! Enter K'del, who is chirpily cheerful, really (probably because he visited his family last night, and has been up for hours-- hurray for time differences!). Of course, he pauses just in front of the opposite end of the table from Farideh, studying the goldrider with a mildly concerned expression set into his face. "You... all right there?" There's a few sounds that are made, perhaps they're muttered words, that only start making themselves more clear when she lifts her head from the sanctuary of her arms. "No. I might have drank too much last night," Farideh admits, not the least bit repentant, though she does sound regretful for obvious reasons. "I can't decide if I want to puke or pass out," is muttered against her hand, which she scrubs against her face. "Do I look horrible?" She sounds hopeful. "You look..." K'del hesitates, which is probably not a great start, but perhaps he's trying to decide if honesty is the best option at this point. "Like you could use some more sleep, mostly. Can I get you some klah or something? Fried food?" Both hands rest upon the back of the nearest chair, the man hovering rather than moving to sit. "Water?" The hand shoves roughly through her hair before she sits up, only to slouch with a groan. "I don't think I could eat anything right now. Why does anyone drink this much? I see them in Snowasis, drinking pitchers," Farideh says, squeezing her eyes shut, but not for long. When they open again, they seek out K'del, however squinted they are against the sunlight that comes in from the tunnel. "Your son was there, last night." K'del stays where he is a few moments longer, then crosses around the table to fetch the requested water. "Some people have higher alcohol tolerance than others, I suppose," he says, evenly. "Think I'm too old to be okay with-- well. Was he?" There's a twitch to his voice, a kind of uneasiness, as if... well, let's face it: as old as one's children gets, who wants to know that they were at a drunken party? "I don't remember ever being this-- no, I do." That realization just makes the goldrider sigh all over again, tugging at the wrinkled sleeve of her sweater. "Yes, he was. I wasn't aware until then, but he seems to have made an unlikely bond with T'gar. It's interesting-- but he's just like you, did you know?" And that might be something desultory in her voice, except it's hard to tell if it's that or continued pain from her situation; her wince suggests the latter. "Face and everything." The glass of water is set down in front of Farideh, in easy reach, even if it means reaching over her shoulder to place it there. K'del hesitates behind the goldrider for a few seconds more, then crosses back to a safer distance-- and one where he can actually see her face. "He's not, if you get to know him," he offers. "Though I'll grant you some superficial similarities. Is it weird?" It is weird. For K'del, at least. If the proximity makes the weyrleader anxious, its makes Farideh embarrassed, with a glance back at him and a hurried glance forward, at that glass. She's reaching for it as she says, "You think? I find him a lot similar in temperament, but perhaps I'm biased." It's half the glass that she polishes off before she sits back, eyeing K'del. "At least he's got your good looks, if not your ambition." Is that a compliment? Must be the hangover. That makes K'del laugh, but he's nice about it: it's very, very quiet. "Probably better for all of us, isn't it, if it's that way around? Kasey's the ambitious one. Nik... Well. We'll see what happens once he's been out in the wings a few turns. We can see what happens." "Is that what you hope? He told me he wants to be a bluerider," Farideh confesses, clearly struggling to even functional. "Kasey," she sighs, scrubbing at her face with her fingers again, roughly enough that it reddens her cheeks, "your other son, the one who didn't Impress. Will he Stand again? It might not be for-- let us hope turns, but he's young, yes?" "Something wrong with him being a bluerider? Seems like... whatever he does, whomever he is, he's got to deal with being my son. Why shouldn't he want to have nothing to do with all of that?" K'del's not bothered by it, plainly-- or at least is doing a very good job of pretending not to be bothered. "He'll Stand again. He'd've left us and Stood elsewhere if he could, but first there was the plague, and now... it's hard for him, watching Nik." "No," Farideh expostulates, loudly. "But I already know he's a bluerider." She's too bothered by her extenuating circumstances to put much feeling into the words, but it's a tad dry, and perhaps the reason she compares father to son. "It will happen. I'm sure. He's your son, after all. If you'll--" Hurriedly, she puts a hand to her mouth, and shoves back her chair. "I have to go," as she racing towards the exit. Bye! "... bye." K'del, amused, glances around the now-empty room. He's unexepectedly free? Yes, he's unexpectedly free. |
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