Logs:Information Brokering
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| RL Date: 13 February, 2013 |
| Who: Z'ian, Q'tan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Telgar Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Z'ian pays Q'tan a little visit. |
| Where: Star Stones, Telgar Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 13, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions, Teris/Mentions, S'varis/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| It's a cold, crisp, clear afternoon at Telgar Weyr. It snowed, yesterday, so there's a fresh, clean layer of white across parts of the bowl, though the coming and going over wing upon wing of dragons has certainly made some of it rather less than pristine. There's a brown dragon on watch at the Star Stones, his hide greyed out with age and infirmity, though his gaze seems keen as it takes in arrivals and departures, comings and goings. Tsanth arrives from between, quietly announcing his arrival before winging down to the Star Stones. He lands delicately and allows his rider to dismount, Z'ian's boots thudding in that fresh layer of snow when he hits the ground. He unclips his riding helmet and lets it dangle from his fingers as he crosses the not so far distance to the greyed out brown. Turning his head this way and that, he reaches one hand up to unflatten his hair while he narrows his eyes to catch sight of the other dragon's rider. Novarith's gaze is keen upon Tsanth as he arrives, and keener still as he wings down towards him, though aside from his low bugle of welcome, he makes no remark. Q'tan's position will become more obvious as Z'ian approaches; in his ancient leathers, with his brown, leathery face, he very nearly blends in to his own dragon, perched as he is upon a arthritic forelimb. "What brings you to my outpost, High Reaches? No Weyrleaders or pretty ladies here. Lost? Hah! Hah!" Tsanth will exchange polite pleasantries with the older dragon, though he'll largely leave him alone if the brown seems uninterested. For now he'll be content with settling off in the background, keeping a watchful eye on the Telgari rider and his own. Z'ian pops open a button on his jacket, slips a hand inside and pulls a small metal flask out of an inner pocket and holds it out to Q'tan. "No sir, none that I can see. But maybe your Novarith still has the juice in him to catch a gold?" He flashes the older rider a smile that's accompanied by a quick, appraising glance. "I thought I'd come for the view and the company. I heard you can see plenty of things from Telgar's Star Stones." The bronzerider cants his head in the direction of the bowl. The brown's attention has already moved on-- there's a wing at drills, not too far below them, and it may well be that the old dragon yearns to be amongst them, the way his wings twitch and shift at his sides. It's not enough movement to dislodge old Q'tan, but the rider rests one hand flat upon his brown's flank, soothingly. The other reaches to take Z'ian's flask, sniffing at the contents appraisingly. "Novarith? Hah. Old boy never stood a chance when he was young and spry. No thank you." He swigs from the flask once, and then a second time, and makes no move to offer it back. "Herald of the Pass," he adds, with a forward tilt towards the guardian stones, ready to mark the return of the red star in another hundred and seventy turns or so. "Unlike yours, eh? Who knows if they'll work, hah!" "We'll both be dead and gone by the time it comes to test them again, yeah?" The bronzerider snaps the button closed on his jacket, likely prepared to not be getting that flask back anytime soon. He turns a little, attention shifting to the stones, his mouth pulling one corner up in half a grin. "No one exciting ever comes to the 'Reaches. They're always leaving, going other places." Z'ian scoffs his boot against the layer of snow before turning back, lifting his eyes to the brownrider. Stating casually, "My brother at the Smithcraft Hall says you're acquaintances." "Unless you plan to live to two hundred odd," confirms the old brownrider, chortling into the flask as he takes another swig. He casts a sidelong glance at Z'ian. "I'd say you've had your share of interesting visitors. What was that brownrider's name? The one who murdered your Weyrwoman? And one of your queens, too. Arrived by air." He seems more interested in his (his) flask than in Z'ian's last, casual remark. The wind whips past them, ruffling Novarith's wings and finally he says, "When you've lived as long as I have, High Reaches, you have many acquaintances. Until they all start dying off, hah!" "We don't like to say his name, bad mojo." Z'ian replies as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. "But I wager you're right, we've had a few. I was thinking more recently, like within the last month. The young, we have such short memories." He lifts his shoulders, smiling self-deprecating humor for himself and his generation. "I'm more than certain I believe you on that count. My brother is a Master-" Well, his brother never said 'don't mention my name' so, "Malachi. He mentioned if I was interested in learning about a rumor that you might be of service." The bronzerider levels another considering gaze onto the older rider, "He said he has what you need? If that makes a difference." Q'tan is unapologetic in his chortles; he seems quite pleased with Z'ian's willingness to deprecate his own generation. "Oh-ho. He--" Surprisingly, the old man cuts himself off as he considers that last thing Z'ian has said. Evidently, it does make a difference, because something shifts in his expression, turning his rheumy-eyed gaze into something far sharper. "Did he now. Your rumor must be something important then, eh, boy? Hah! Or your brother is dumber than he looks. Or you've got him by the short and curlies, maybe! What's it you want to know?" He drinks, again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "My rumor is very important, to me at the very least." The corners of Z'ian's mouth tug again, especially when the converstion brushes along the topic of his brother. "I won't deny it, I'm probably the more intelligent brother. The most modest too." He laughs quiet and short at that last, not so serious add on. Tipping his head in the direction of the bowl. "There's been words said that a rider from the 'Reaches has been here to see Teris. Have you seen K'del's Cadejoth come through Telgar?" The bronzerider presses his lips into a line at that question, best to get this one out of the way first maybe. "I'll tell him you said that," promises the old brownrider, hacking out a throat full of phlegm over the ledge and down, down, down towards the bowl. Hopefully no one's standing down there. He takes his time in answering that question, though, replacing the liquid lost to his spit by taking another swig from Z'ian's poor, abused flask. "Cadejoth, eh? Greeny-bronze? Thin. Bony. Likes to wiggle his tail when he flies?" Long pause. "Nope. Ain't seen him! Hah! Not for a turn or more at least." "Tell him I miss his ugly face while you're at it too." Z'ian watches placidly as the older man hacks over the edge of the bowl. He's probably wondering how many watchriders have spit on his head, but that's kept to his thoughts. Meanwhile, "That's Cadejoth." A certain hidden tension eases out over his shoulders. "Anyone come through that seemed to stick around longer than usual? Come at a strange time from the 'Reaches?" He chews on his lip and adds on, "Probably a man. Maybe he could be confused with K'del? Rumors are saying it's my friend. But if he hasn't been here in at least a turn?" The younger man lifts his shoulders and falls silent. Doppelganger? Twin? His expression would seem to read. Q'tan smirks. "Brothers, eh. Sounds about right! Hah!" He's got his eyes on Z'ian, and they're studying him closely, catching the easing tension, and that lip chew. "Not many men who'd confuse High Reaches' former Weyrleader with another, surely," he says, with a gutteral laugh. "Not me! Not you! From what I understand, definitely not Teris! Hah!" The flask - now empty - gets pegged back towards the bronzerider, with surprisingly good aim... as long as he doesn't fumble. "What was his name, now? Vi-- No, S-- Viondeth. That was the bronze." Viondeth is Boreal Wingsecond S'varis' bronze; they're clutchmates of Teris'. "Visited a couple of times, as I recall." He laughs, "You and I definitely aren't pretty enough to be mistaken for K'del. Maybe someone that didn't kno-" He cuts himself off to listen, catching the name. Viondeth. S'varis. A Wingsecond. Bronzerider. Clutchmates. The little details click together mentally, one at a time, falling neatly into place. Z'ian's typically untroubled faces takes a darker turn, one that only lasts a moment before he shakes it off. Quick to have it pass. The flask comes to him and he pulls his hands out of his pocket, fumbling it briefly in the cold. "You hear any of the natives speculating on why he was here? Maybe they're lovers." But he doesn't seem overly convinced of that himself. "Hah! Speak for yourself, boy." No, Q'tan is not being serious. He is, however, watching carefully. "Not a name you wanted to hear, was it now? Viondeth. Not what you wanted at allllll." He sing-songs that last word, both smug and interested, though mostly it's just satisfaction at having been able to provide the information that caused such a reaction, however brief. "Lovers? You have met her, haven't you? Hah! Word is, he's been visiting our Weyrleaders, too. Word is, he's here with authority." "Not particularly, no." It's difficult now for Z'ian to keep that troubled expression at bay, he's not a man with a face built for deceit normally. He slowly breathes out as he unbottons his jacket and slips the now empty and abused flask back inside the pocket it came from. On Teris, "Wishful thinking that maybe it was innocent, that's all." Which it would appear to decidely not be. If the Wingsecond is indeed meeting with the Weyrleaders. "Authority." The word gets mouthed as if he's thinking on it while speaking. Speculatively, "The word say on whose?" Q'tan's, "Hah!" is almost joyous; he's obviously taking a lot of pleasure in this, and perhaps it's payment enough - that, plus the booze he's already drunk. "I'd say it was on your Weyrleaders' authority, but you don't really have any, do you? Hah! He's full of talk, that one. Hard to know if my Weyrleaders believed him or not. You'd think it'd be easy to check." Whether or not his Weyrleaders have, or would, well, that's harder to know. "What do you know, High Reaches?" A low hiss of breath escapes from between Z'ian's teeth. "We don't." - For the joke on having Weyrleaders. Q'tan will likely get plenty of enjoyment out of the bronzerider's reaction to the news. If he's the sort to enjoy discomforted, distracted expressions. He's looking past the brownrider, focused on the greying hide of his lifemate. "What do I know?" It's repeated as he drags his gaze back down to the old rider. "I know that I've got a Wingsecond to have a real friendly conversation with." Like before, he attempts to shake off the tension and more or less succeeds. He nods his head politely in the Telgari's direction, "Thank you for your help. Mal said you could meet him whenever you wanted; just send him word ahead of time." Does Q'tan enjoy that? Probably. Has he picked up some more information to add to his collection? Definitely. Will some of that make it back to his Weyrleaders? It's not impossible. He smiles, a crooked, gap-toothed smile that makes him look more unhinged than ever. "Oh, to be a fly on that wall, hah! You keep yourself out of trouble, High Reaches. Thanks for the drink, and for keeping an old many company." "Anytime. Maybe you'll see more of me." Oh, what a lovely unhinged old man he is. A smile that's closer to what Z'ian would usually produce is allowed to bloom, even if it is wry and crooked tonight. "Can't make any promises on the trouble." The 'Reaches man gives the watchrider a lazy salute before ambling off to his dragon. They don't linger long there on the stones, it's a quick mount up and departure into the skies. |
Comments
Jo (Jolie (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 14 Feb 2013 05:07:37 GMT.
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Haha! This was great. Jo should have tried the watchdragon after that barmaid, but she didn't~ Which makes this all the more great. ;D Enjoyed this scene!
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