Logs:An Avalanche Afternoon Out
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| RL Date: 27 September, 2012 |
| Who: H'kon, K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Avalanche takes an afternoon out, and K'del uses the opportunity to try and grill H'kon. |
| Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
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| The Sandbar, Ista Weyr Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar. Avalanche still drills harder than most wings, but every so often they get cancelled at the last minute in lieu of a wing bonding exercise that mostly involves going to the pub and getting drunk. With the weyrlings due to graduate any day now, and the wing likely to receive new members as a result, it probably wasn't a surprise that this afternoon would be one of those occasions. Most in the wing are a drink down, now. Some have wandered off to play cards or dice; others are flirting with the good looking waitress. And K'del? He's finishing the last of his beer and saying to those still nearby, "Now, now. There's no need to haze the new 'riders. They'll fit in fine." H'kon is not one of those at the gambling tables, and has only appreciated that waitress from afar through somewhat longer (detractors might call them 'creepy') glances. No, he's in that group along with the weyrleader. He gives some sort of an affirming grunt to K'del's words, as if his dragon isn't in the process of plotting tests of, let's say, intestinal fortitude for the newly tapped with his current wingmates. "With enough training," is a murmur that can probably more be attributed to the current sense of fraternity than to the one drink he's not quite finished. "Training," agrees one of the others at the table, a female bluerider, with enthusiasm. "Lots of it." There's a glint in her eyes, and a smirk to her mouth that doesn't dissipate as she adds: "I'll get the next round. V'yel, Zeletta, help me carry." Their departure leaves K'del and H'kon alone at the table, and sends the Weyrleader leaning backwards in his chair - for all intents and purposes, lazily content. He plays with the silver graduation ring on his finger idly, head tipping to one side as he glances in H'kon's direction. "More people to screw up precision manoeuvres," he remarks. "Set us back months, probably." H'kon is content to rotate the glass around on its base, his own fidgeting tendencies at least somewhat allayed as he watches his wingmates, playing the sentinel. Only once they've made it to the bar does he give any sense that he's heard his weyrleader, looking over to K'del, a pensive frown making him, for a moment, look almost sad. But it's just a look. "They will be less skilled," is cautious agreement at first, "but it might make for a smoother improvement." His tone carries comparison, even if he doesn't offer an explicit subject for it. "Because we'll all have to adjust the way we fly," supposes K'del after a moment's consideration, nodding his approval. His own glass is pushed away from it, nudged towards the middle of the table to join others already littered there: no wait staff have ventured this far to clean them up, just yet. "Easier to change when you have to, in general. Guess it's always been that way." He's studying H'kon, though, as if to confirm for himself that that's what the brownrider intended-- or perhaps he's encouraging him to elaborate on that unspecified comparison. H'kon looks from K'del's glass to his own, the little bit of beer in the bottom that promises flat skunkiness. That could be the cause for the hint of a grimace that pulls at his face before he lifts that glass, drains it, and adds his to the group. "As you say," is the default in these sorts of situations. That sad frown repeats itself, and the brownrider shakes his head, and rubs a now-free hand over his bearded chin. "The weyrlings might be more adaptable," comes only when he's spotted his wingmates on the return, and is so somewhat distracted. K'del's glance follows H'kon's, and his expression shifts as a result: could that be frustration in it, just briefly, before he lets it smooth back over into that lazy relaxation? They're bringing whisky back with them, though, and not beer, sliding the glasses around the table, although none of the three seem intent to linger: "Darts," explains V'yel, cheerfully enough. As they head off again, K'del returns his gaze to H'kon. "More adaptable," he agrees, then, returning to the thread of the conversation. "And perhaps some new ideas. Bottoms up." The whisky is too cheap to be lingered over: he shots it. H'kon monitors his wingmates' progress once more, and even lets his gaze dwell on the game, so much of it that he can see. Darts, he might actually play. He doesn't have to be watching K'del to shoot his own liquor alongside; H'kon's been flying in a wing long enough to have learned some of the basic bar lingo. This time, the grimace is certainly about the liquor, and the glass is pushed away quickly. "Or simply smaller egos," is delayed enough not to be made hoarse by a shot that didn't quite work. "Those," agrees K'del, with a twist of his smile, his own reaction to the booze none so obvious as H'kon's. Rather than push his glass away immediately, he glances down at it, turning it around in his fingers as the few droplets remaining slide from one end to the other. "Really," he continues, "We ought to be talking about something other than wing business. That's the whole point of these ventures, after all." And while he may be aware of the other rider's interest in the darts, he's not letting go so easily. H'kon's interest in darts remains only that. The play is watched, but he makes no move to join. "I'm certain there are other topics of conversation available," comes with a certain wryness, even a look to where some of the other wingmates - male and female - are discussing the assets of various staff and other patrons. It's almost an invite to leave. H'kon can sit and watch the table, sure, no problem. But although K'del has, certainly, glanced appreciatively in the direction of various members of staff and other patrons, his reaction to H'kon's glance is quietly mirthful, accompanied now by a shaking of his head. Once upon a time, not so many turns ago, he'd be one of the flirters. Now? Not so much. "Rather talk to you," he says. "Make it my business to get to know my riders, but you're harder than most, nevermind how long we've flown together. We can talk wing business, but if there's anything else you've a mind to mention..." He's all ears. And H'kon has never been one of those. So his glances remain brief, and his talk about bums, nonexistant. He tilts his head to the side, a sort of pseudo-bow in appreciation for... a perceived compliment? Whatever that was. He reaches forward for the glass, which, even empty, serves the purpose of something to pass between his hands, and looks K'del over anew. "And what would you have me mention?" K'del's reply is a genuine, and somehow, faintly amused, "I've no idea. The state of the weyr. A visit to your family. Arekoth's latest. A recent interesting conversation... You do have interesting conversations, don't you? From time to time?" At least his study of the other rider is light, and despite that quiet amusement, he doesn't seem to be making fun. "Otherwise, I'll end up talking about my kids, and then you'll be desperately trying to work out how to get away." "Well, my family's in Tillek. And... I think I'm due a visit. They'll be getting older." A second rub to his beard is the only indication he gives of his own state of human mortality. So when his hand falls back to his glass, H'kon raises his chin toward K'del. "Maybe you'd best start in talking about your children then. I'll watch for the maid." Because this calls for more alcohol. Even H'kon knows it. Quietly, patiently, "I know your family's in Tillek. Same as mine, though mine're mostly a ways out from the main hold. Vineyard." Though again, that's no big secret. "Know I'm due for a visit, too. It's hard to make the time, sometimes. Parents won't be around forever." It's likely that K'del is ignoring that mention of his children, right now, though he's certainly not arguing the need for alcohol. "Have you had many dealings with our new goldriders? Strange to think they'll be full Juniors in a few days." "Fisherfolk," H'kon offers by way of his big contrasting contribution to the conversation. "And an older brother, turned Harper now. The rest are still there." When the waitress does see him leering (in part, perhaps, thanks to a helpful wingmate who makes a swat for her bottom when she turns), he raises two fingers. And says, with exaggerated lip motions, "Better." Free hand lifts the empty glass. Hopefully, the code is figured. Goldriders bring his attention back to K'del properly. "Only a few." The glass spins. "Azaylia seems sweet." K'del seems to find this a conversational improvement, and adds in another offering of his own: "One of my brothers is a Harper, too. Ander. Nearly a Master, now, to hear him talk of it, though I guess we'll see. Rest're scattered - some at home, some at Tillek, others elsewhere in the area. My sister, youngest sister, she's a bluerider at Benden." His lips form a thin line at reference to her, like there's unfinished business there, but he doesn't clarify. "She is sweet." Azaylia. "Hope she's not... hope politics are kind to her, much as they can be. And Glacier." There's a funny expression, for that, though again, he shakes it away. "Brieli's harder to classify." "Kairek," H'kon offers back, but the name brings a grimace not dissimilar to that to which the whiskey was treated. It's all he says of harpers, spinning the glass quickly enough to set it wobbling, and then hurriedly thunking it back down. Azaylia is the easier topic of conversation, and one which has H'kon actually nodding. "That was a concern of mine as well. I hope she proves strong as her dragon seems to be." K'del's assessment of Brieli... just gets a nod and a, "Hmm," of accord. It's that grimace, and the wobbling of the glass, that has K'del finally setting down his own glass, shoving it towards the center of the table alongside all the others. There's a flicker of interest, certainly, but he doesn't probe. Instead, "Think she will. She's stronger than she seems, I think. Just don't want people taking advantage of her... her niceness. Manipulating her." It has him furrowing his brow, thoughtfully. "In any case, Hraedhyth'll definitely support her. Over-support her, maybe. Beat up anyone who tries to... well. Least they both seem to get along with Iolene. Nice, to have a team that works well together." "If there are others besides her dragon to watch over her... Glacier will do that, if they do not crush her first." The brownrider is less giving to the topic of Iolene as well, satisfied just to nod a bit vaguely, and offer up a stock comment of, "A united Weyr would be strongest." When a scan for the waitress proves fruitless, he looks back to the dart game. And of a sudden, gives a brusque, "My sister is still at home. There are no other riders in our family." "I was surprised," K'del admits, "that F'rint agreed. She doesn't seem Glacier's... type, though Hraedhyth probably is. But you're right: if she survives what they throw at her, they'll have her back for good. It may be an ideal situation, in the end." Still studying the brownrider, he certainly doesn't miss the vagueness of that nod, or the comment that follows, but nor does he pursue the issue. Idly, "Must've made your family proud, then. First rider in the family." Now, finally, he turns his attention away, too, hunting through the bar for the disappeared waitress. "Wonder where she got to. Or did M'var convince her to go out back for a quickie?" "If he's not spent yet," comes easier, on the leading edge of a concentrated sort of frown, H'kon thinking far too hard about what might really just be a pleasantry. His gaze falls to the table's edge. "I don't think anyone really saw Arekoth coming," is his assessment, after the delay. (Somewhere on the beach, Arekoth sets to preening, entirely self-satisfied.) Which might explain the addition of a dry, "Complications have ways of arising." K'del's smirky grin is visibly amused, and so is the easy remark that accompanies it: "That man is like a perpetual teenager." As if K'del himself wasn't like that not so long ago. But it's that other remark that really seems to interest him, enough so that he adjusts his position, stretching out his shoulders as if it excuses the way he shifts just-so to be better able to regard H'kon. "Complications. Mm. Sounds a bit like that. And Arekoth, he's... you're as dissimilar as Cadejoth and I, seems like." H'kon is quite ignorant of any hidden intentions, if not to the final result. K'del's changed position brings a careful shift from the brownrider, back in his chair, hands brought together, the glass flicked out of the way with his fingers so his hands can clasp - or rather, lean together, but generally still be at the ready to come apart, come to action, if required. "If I were like Arekoth, we'd both be dead," is flat, fully serious, and final. Also probably something one of his weyrlingmasters told him back in the early days with the brown. It takes K'del several seconds to react to that so-serious reply, and when he does, it isn't - initially - with words. Instead, he rests his teeth down upon his lower lip, sucking in a breath, and nods. Once, twice - even a third time. Then: "But as it stands, you balance him," he concludes. "When he doesn't drive you crazy, or the reverse. or, at least - that's how it works for us. Imagine you'd still be at Tillek, if it weren't for him. Fishing? Married. Children. Completely different life." H'kon gives only a slight lift of his eyebrows by way of agreement with his weyrleader's assessment of his relationship to his dragon. "The same life I'd left," is a bit more forthcoming, even if it's got, "You have children," nipping at its heels, as H'kon tires of the limelight. It's a stroke of luck, or excellent timing, that the waitress (quite neatly put together if she was off with M'var) comes back with two more glasses of a less-volatile liquor. "That one," agrees K'del, though he pauses to flash a bright smile at the waitress before opening his mouth. With a glass in his hand, swirled idly and then sniffed, he takes his time in answering. "Is it hard to imagine yourself living that one, now? But yes - two boys. Both turned six now, to our relief. Those two months between them don't seem like much, but Kasey certainly lords it over Nik." There's genuine love and affection in K'del's tone when he talks about his children, born of two different mothers in such close succession. "My life is High Reaches, Arekoth, now," is not exactly a clever sidestepping of the question. H'kon's hands come apart, in order to reach for his own glass, and bring the liquor up for a similar inspection that it's undergoing in K'del's hand. "Brothers will," is probably spoken from experience, but it comes without any nostalgia, or even obvious emotion, behind it. "You bring them up together?" even seems to contain more interest than its predecessor. It's not an answer that seems to satisfy K'del's interest, for all that he nods in answer. "Mm," he agrees. "My brothers and I were like that, too, I suppose. Part of the reason I ended up at the Weyr: wanted to do something that no one else had. Competition." Finally, he takes an exploratory sip, rolling the liquor around on his tongue carefully before swallowing. "Nik's mother has primary care of him, and Kasey is fostered in the 'caverns, but they see a lot of each other. Used to be, back when Milani and I were together, we'd have them both at once quite a lot, but it's not quite the same now. More like... the occasional slumber party, than my place being a second home." Something, given the sudden downturn of his expression, he seems to regret. H'kon lifts his chin to K'del, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he looks the bronzerider over a second time. Then nods, forces a thin-lipped smile, and brings the glass to his lips. There's a more sympathetic little dip at outer corners of his eyes for that regret, another sip from that glass. When the glass hits the table again, he seems about ready to open his mouth, but finds nothing of use to say. Instead, the brownrider turns from his drinking mate, and back to that game of darts. K'del, too, seems out of conversational gambits - perhaps it's just that the lack of response leaves him with nowhere obvious to go. No doubt that's why, once that drink is finished, he excuses himself to go and find someone else to bother. Talk to. Whatever.
CommentsComments on "Logs:An Avalanche Afternoon Out"Dragonshy (Dragonshy) left a comment on Tue, 02 Oct 2012 17:35:25 GMT.
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Comments
Comments on "Logs:An Avalanche Afternoon Out"Dragonshy (Dragonshy) left a comment on Tue, 02 Oct 2012 17:35:25 GMT.
Wow. K'del's not bad at interrogation! Practice on H'kon a bit more and I bet he could make /any/ criminal talk. ;)
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