Logs:A Business Discussion
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| RL Date: 8 June, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, R'hin, Riahla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A few days after the hatching, after visiting Riahla, R'hin lets Brieli know they have a few things in common. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, Monaco Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 13, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Suireh/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
| The summer leaves the evenings relatively warm at Monaco Weyr, and a lot of the Weyr tends to be up until the late hours of the night. The sheer exhaustion of the first few days of Impression has most of the weyrlings sacked out, getting snatches of sleep whenever they can. The sound of softly murmured voices isn't enough to wake the exhausted, though it may draw the attention of those already awake: over near the barracks entrance is a table where, for the first few days, food is brought and left. The scent of some chowder and something spicy can be detected, and there, at the table, father and daughter. R'hin and Riahla. The latter looks exhausted, but happy, chin propped on her hand and all but asleep within the chair. "Go to bed, Ri," R'hin's urging her with a sympathetic smile. "I promise I'll bring Suireh by in a sevenday or two." Barely awake, trying to claw herself consciousness, Brieli is close enough to voices and spicy scent both to cling to them in her between-state; her lanky body moving like it's on strings as she forces herself upright on Iesaryth's couch, swings feet to the ground. As she sways for a moment, it's apparent that the gold is the one of the pair that really needs the sleep - she's stretched out, breathing heavily, dead to the world. Once she's walking, every step the tall dark girl takes towards the food and away from the place of sleep seems to revive her, though Riahla passing out at the table brings a heavy sigh. "You should go to bed, Riahla. You'll make me tired again. Though it really doesn't take much." Defeated. Defeated by exhaustion. Interest sparks in R'hin's gaze at Brieli's approach, a small smile -- sympathetic and amused both -- curving his lips upwards at her heavy sigh. "Here, have some of this chowder. It's really quite good -- I owe the cook a favor for whipping up a fresh batch, but it's well worth it." He leans over to spoon out the chowder into a small bowl, setting it down in front of Brieli. Meanwhile, the other weyrling's comment earns a faint murmur of protest from Riahla, eyes closed -- and the Monaco bronzerider's on his feet a moment later, sliding a hand under his daughter's arm and assisting her towards the cot next to where her blue slumbers. When he returns to the table a few minutes later, his expression holds a gaze of quiet pride that's directed towards the newest bluerider. "Brieli, wasn't it?" he finally says, as if it's somehow possible he might not know who she is. More than happy to take whatever food is being offered out to her - that means it's just there, without any effort made on her part - Brieli murmurs thanks to R'hin as she slides into a seat at the table, blinking reddened eyes a few times to focus before she'll even risk taking up a fork. Pointy. Riahla's protest, whatever it was, earns a bit of a laugh from the other weyrling, and she forgoes her food for a moment to watch father take daughter to bed. If she hadn't already spent a day in tears (and heard about it after), the new goldrider might get a little misty, but instead she aims a look over to Iesaryth before into her bowl. Picking at it as he returns, she nods once, glancing up with a slight smile, perhaps amused at the question. "Yes. I was the one who told your daughter to leave the Sands at Reaches. I didn't think she actually would." "They're a handful," R'hin acknowledges easily enough, unbothered, running a hand through his hair, though the smile never quite leaves his lips. "I'll be the first to admit I indulge them -- that's why it's good they don't spend that much time solely with me down here." He takes a moment to study Brieli, openly, gaze lingering on her eyes, and lips twisting into something wry. He pitches his voice low, perhaps in deference to the other sleeping weyrlings: "Some people have an easy time of it. But-- some people struggle, a lot." There's a ring of reminiscence in his voice, "--With Impressing. With what it means. What we have to share. How it changes us. How it makes us look at ourselves, and deal with someone else seeing the true us. Don't ever feel that you're alone in that." Doing her best not to eat and talk at the same time while it's pretty obvious she's starving, Brieli offers as easily, "It didn't bother me so much this time." She puts down her fork for a moment, grinning at the memory as her dark gaze shifts Riahla's way. "Though I didn't expect her to be the one to start throwing punches." Reaching to drag a pitcher across the table, fill a glass with water, she doesn't seem to notice R'hin's study - she never does; won't acknowledge the scrutiny, or doesn't pay attention. But she does freeze for a moment at those words, the pitch of them; setting the pitcher back where it belongs, any flash of that terror he might have seen on the Sands is gone when she looks up again. After a time, perhaps a bit rough and reluctant, "Thank you. She's-- I know she wouldn't tell anyone anything I wouldn't want her to. It's a relief, in so many ways. But..." Her gaze drops to her glass, and she admits wearily, "It is difficult. To be opened up like that." Perhaps to ease the sensation of scrutiny, R'hin reaches for the ladel resting in the chowder bowl, and spoons himself a small serving as well. He takes a small sip, before he nods, unsurprised, at her admission. "My first few nights, I-- it's not that I regretted Impression. I love Leiventh -- one can't but help that. But I felt raw, open, exposed -- I felt like everyone could see the real me, would know what a fraud I was. It gets easier -- it doesn't go away entirely -- but you, and Iesaryth, will find some sort of balance in yourselves. I won't lie to you, though. It will take time." His gaze goes distant, briefly, and there's a faint grimace, "It's harder, when you see those who don't struggle at all. You wish it was like that for you." His shoulders lift and drop in a faint shrug, and then he says, "Whatever the case, remember that although she was clutched at Monaco, Iesaryth is of the Reaches' line. And I apologize in advance should she have any of her sire's arrogance and stubbornness." The words, however, are accompanied by a low-throated chuckle and a glint of pale eyes, less apology and more amusement. "Yes." Brieli says that immediately, quietly in agreement, so quickly she seems to surprise herself. "Exposed." She doesn't elaborate on that; whatever she feels has been opened to the world will remain between she and Iesaryth for now. After a sip of her water, she scrubs long-fingered hands over her face before combing dark, tangled hair back behind her ears, shaking her head. "I trust her," she tells R'hin. "Where it's been hard to trust anyone for a long time. That will make it easier. But thank you for not lying to me. I appreciate it. I'd rather know that I'll feel uncomfortable for a long time than hope it'll be over quickly without knowing. And..." With a slight, wry smile, "I don't think I know how not to struggle." Already darkly amused, the bronzerider's last has her laughing quietly as well. "In advance. She's already thinking she should be flown to the Reaches on some sort of throne. She seems to be secure in her lineage." She doesn't elaborate, and he doesn't ask: R'hin respects that feeling, familiar with it, and lets it lie. Instead, he says, "When it comes to this life -- the life of a rider -- I was lied to a lot about what it was, what it might mean. Or given lies of admission. I walked in blindly, and it made it harder to bear. If you... if you find you need someone who will give you the truth, you can have Iesaryth bespeak Leiventh." He, too, laughs when she does, a knowing, dark sort of chuckle. "A throne?" he echoes, and there's something considering in that. "Mm. Perhaps not -- if only because there's not enough time. But Leiventh and myself will be one of those escorting you. Making sure you're settled. He insisted, in part, I think, because he misses the spires of home." There might be something a trace wistful in the bronzerider's tone, too, but there's nothing of it in his expression, well-schooled as he takes another mouthful of the chowder. Taking up her fork and bowl again, "There is quite a spin put on it by most, isn't there. Iolene told me it wasn't easy; she didn't make it all sound perfect, as if my problems would be solved by Impressing. My problems couldn't be solved by that anyway." Brieli's tone is dismissive, before she adds quickly, "Whose could be?" Yes, clearly that was meant in a broader sense. Even so, she's obviously touched by R'hin's offer - though she's not getting all teary again, thankfully for all involved. "Thank you for that as well," she says, sincerely grateful. "And thank him for that. It's... I lost... We appreciate it." It's not much of a finish, but it's honest. And a full sentence. Lightly, "Even if there's no time for thrones. Did you know she just - came up with that on her own?" However, head tilting slightly, expression shading thoughtful as she's now watching him, "Does he." Interesting. R'hin's chuckling, pushing aside his bowl, and running a hand through his hair. "They'll surprise you. Often. About the strangest things. They talk amongst themselves, you know. And sometimes they get strange images from the firelizards. Luckily for me, Leiventh's rather more... grounded than some dragons have a tendency to be." With a casual shrug of his shoulders, the Monacoan bronzerider says, matter-of-factly, "It was his home. His to protect, for many Turns. Dragons don't always remember things, but they remember rigour and sentiment, even if they don't know the why." Standing for a moment, he turns the chair around, faces it backwards, and sits back down, hands resting along the back, now. "What have you heard about the trade deal?" Finishing off her own bowl in short order, Brieli sighs, "I don't like surprises. I can't plan for surprises. But I'll just assume Iesaryth will only have mostly-pleasant ones." Seeming more relaxed for the food - and maybe even possibly for conversation - she sets aside her bowl, lifting fine brows in amusement as R'hin turns his chair around. "Does this mean it's a business discussion now?" she asks, with a slight grin. Resting elbows on the table, chin in one hand, "Some remember more than others. Some just go picking things out of your head, I'm told." Her tone sounds a little more like the voice of experience now, actually. "And I've heard enough. Enough to know that Iesaryth and I are like to be in an interesting position when we graduate. Enough to know that a lot of people - your Weyrleader and Weyrwoman included - have an interest in how all that turns out." "What makes you think this hasn't all been a business discussion?" R'hin counters with a lift of brow, and a twitch of lips. "But yes -- the Monaco Weyrleaders are interested. And I won't lie -- they had hopes for a Monaco girl to Impress." The lean bronzerider chuckles. "I heard rumors that I desperately wished for my daughters to Impress. No bronzerider who ever had a daughter would want that." A little dryly. "Fact is, this isn't about loyalties -- not really. Everyone else might think so. But really, it's about the odds." From nowhere, there's suddenly a mark piece on his knuckles, and he makes it dance along his knuckles with expertise. "Fewer goldriders mean fewer choices. So everyone tries to manoeuvre. But it really comes down to the queens." This coming from a man who, as High Reaches Weyrleader, is still talked about as having been suspected of deposing a Weyrwoman to put Satiet on the proverbial throne of Senior. "Whatever pressures you may get, from Monaco's Weyrleaders, or High Reaches', remember that." "Fair point," Brieli allows, still entertained - she's sleep-deprived and most certainly intrigue-deprived, and it's likely obvious how this conversation brings her to life in a way mere mobility and sustenance couldn't. With a wave of her free hand, "That much was obvious, their preference - first off, who wouldn't want that? And secondly, we were all 'interrogated' by the Weyrwoman, though actually, I found our conversation quite pleasant." Blinking red-rimmed eyes as that mark piece appears, she glances between it and R'hin for a moment before asking, "Doesn't it ever seem odd to you that so much is left to chance? So much that's so important? I mean, obviously I'm brilliant and fair and perfect, but I might have been Steffi, yes?" Not really expecting an answer, she agrees eventually, "It's true. And I will. I have a sense your Weyrwoman knows something about Rielsath that I don't. And I can't figure it out. But perhaps knowing that is knowing enough." "That," R'hin says, to Brieli's question of chance, "Is a notion I struggled with ever since Impressing. The chance that I was there, at the Weyr. The chance that I was searched. The chance that Leiventh picked me, of all people. The chance that my dragon caught Lhiannonth's, and later Teonath's. The chance that /their/ dragons in turn were the first to rise for Seniorship. So much of a rider's life is predicated on chance, even Thread itself." A slight pause, his tone slipping into something darker as he mentions Thread. "That's why I prefer to try and tip the odds in my favor, where possible." The mark dances across his fingers for moments more, before it disappears again, and the bronzerider chuckles darkly. "You strike me as an intelligent young woman. More than that... cunning," the word is praise, coming from the Monaco rider's lips. He pushes himself up, though one hand still rests on the back of the chair. "You'll do fine, Brieli." With a quirk of her lips, Brieli notes, "Most of life is predicated on chance. Leaving things we can control up to chance strikes me as odd from time to time. But what do I know." Straightening to offer an elegant little shrug of her own, she might mark that darker tone at the mention of Threadfall - long past for her - but says nothing of it. "I think that's something we have in common. I don't like to feel like I'm gambling," she says quietly, watching that mark disappear. If R'hin's laugh is dark before he rises, Brieli's own definitely echoes it as she looks up at him at that praise, shaking her head with a slight smile. "If you only knew. I appreciate the vote of confidence, R'hin. And I'll be glad to have you and Leiventh take us home." In that last, at least, she's sincere. "No one likes to gamble," R'hin counters, "Because the house always wins. Sometimes, though, the gamble is worth taking the risk, if the payoff is worth it." The glint in the bronzerider's pale gaze suggests it's a chance he's taken more than a few times in his lifetime. He shoves his hands in his pockets, before nodding towards her. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. You'd best get some sleep -- it may well be the last for some time to come." He gives a low whistle, under his breath, and heads outside. |
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