Logs:Irreparable

From NorCon MUSH
Irreparable
"Are they? Making it right, I mean."
RL Date: 1 July, 2015
Who: Ka'ge, X'vin
Involves: Fort Weyr, Fort Hold
Type: Log
What: Ka'ge and X'vin have a chat; Ka'ge slips up.
Where: Living Caverns, Fort Weyr
When: Day 23, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10)
Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions
OOC Notes: This takes place between Logs:Making_Friends and Logs:Snobby. For time reference. Beep boop.


Icon Ka'ge glance.jpg Icon x'vin intent.png


>---< Living Cavern, Fort Weyr(#513RIJMas$) >--------------------------------<

  Fort's enormous Living Cavern is a vast, echoing space, with deep set     
  windows carved into the outer wall to let in light and fresh air. Large   
  enough to house the entire human population of the Weyr with plenty of    
  room to spare, the most common use of the living cavern is as a communal  
  eating and gathering space. Long tables with benches usually line the main
  part of the cavern with a table set aside for the Weyrleaders on a raised 
  dais, as well as other smaller tables set along the walls for quieter     
  dining. Tapestries depicting historic moments in the Weyr's history and   
  scenery from the coverage area decorate the walls and lend the space a    
  warmer feel than bare stone.                                              
                                                                            
  To the east, a large doorway leads out to the Bowl, with a sturdy metal   
  door that can be closed during inclement weather or Threadfall. The       
  Nighthearth is tucked away in a little alcove near the door. The large    
  main hearth is used for cooking and for heat, though chairs are often     
  pulled up nearby for the Weyr's elderly to enjoy the heat. A swinging door
  not far from the hearth leads into the Kitchen that shares the wall behind
  the hearth. To the west, a passage opens up into the Weyr's Inner Caverns.


His dragon sleeps. That's the only excuse that a weyrling with such a young dragon could have for being in the living caverns. One of Fort's newest bronzeriders is not with any others of his class. Ka'ge sits at a long table that's near a wall, a great spot really for being able to take in the gigantic cavern's populace. It's a little later than the rush hour of food but not quite the enforced parole of weyrling 'bedtime. The boy has a plate in front of him with an untouched breadroll in the middle of it, fallen on its side. If the Hatching hadn't happened, this wouldn't be a strange place to find him. This particular table is usually occupied by lower caverns staff, known for their chatter. And while Ka'ge doesn't invest himself in that chatter, he appears lost in thought a few chairs down from a pair of little old lady drudges going on and on about "that greenriders bloody children" doing this and that to cause the nannies undue stress. Nothing important. But it'd been over two weeks now that the hooded teen, leaning over the plate on his elbows with face hidden by his self-made shadows, heard anything beyond the murmurs in the barracks, and he's interested even in this.

The means by which X'vin wins people's affection easily assessed: it's in the effervescence of his smile and the look on his face - that genuine joy - when he encounters them. It's a peculiar, almost childlike glee that they are them and that they are there, and it doesn't feel false for a moment. So, then, it stands to reason that when X'vin walks out of the kitchen with a plate of leftover lunch, a stores woman catches the bottom cuff of his jacket with a delighted sound to haul him closer to chat - nothing special, really. Something about a desk. The conversation is long enough that he settles beside her, and very near Ka'ge, and when they complete their business and she turns back to the woman on the other side of her, X'vin moves to stand. It's then that he notices the younger bronzerider, and they're close enough that it's worth it for him to slide down towards him, "Ka'ge. How are you?"

Ka'ge had looked up at the swinging of the kitchens' door, but only long enough to to determine who'd passed through it. The slight familiarity of X'vin, given their brief meeting, catches that sidelong blue-green glance for an extra second's tick before he's back to staring at the table just in front of his plate. A good portion of his attention goes back to conversation of the residents in the interim from kitchen observation and X'vin being seated near enough to be able to be interestingly near enough. Fingers of one hand curl so that the light fist can settle in the open but gloved palm of the other with his elbows still resting some of his weight on the table top. "..X'vin, aye?" Clarification requested but not needed as it seems somewhat dismissive, "I'm fine. Better now, out of that claustrophobic place." The words should be familiar, and the gaze from under the shade studies the Flint wingleader's expression. The slight grin creasing his expression seems to denote this as not an unwelcomed interaction, "Getting along with the Weyr?" A bit all-encompassing, he makes it sound simple.


"Yes," is an answer to both questions, as it were, and X'vin at least feels comfortable finally eating what's on the small plate he has. It's nothing hearty - a small sandwich and cold, uncooked vegetables, one of which he pops into his mouth with a satisfying crunch. "I bet," he commiserates with the boy for his claustrophobia, and says, "I think each weyr is different, maybe," he's unsure about that, surely inexperienced at least, but carries on, "but you'll have your own space, sooner than you think. Even before they give you weyrs, he'll grow so quickly it'll be almost required you have a bigger space." The rest of the vegetable is tossed into his mouth, and he chews it while considering. "Even before that, though, there's always outside." A content little laugh precedes, "I am, in most ways," with a fond look back at the woman he'd just left. "In others, well. It takes getting used to. For everyone." A dismissive shrug. "I take it he's asleep."

Ka'ge unclasps his hands for sake of picking at the lonely roll on his plate, pulling off a squished tuft of a piece and eventually deciding to put it in his mouth. There's a small nod at the wingleader's surely helpful advice, but he doesn't offer details or complaints of weyrlinghood in return to bolster that part of the conversation. Not even the concept of outside is touched upon, considering how swimmingly that went before, though it does earn a slightly wider, uneven grin and a 'hmph' of amusement. "What makes you want to come here and tell a bunch of unfamiliar riders what to do? Or is that just how it works?" It's an earnest thing, that curiosity. The second part is what makes his bluegreen eyes actually consider X'vin a little more thoroughly. He'd been so distracted their brief meeting before, he'd given the older bronzerider little actual attention. He does give an answer to the last, however, a sigh with it. "Yeah, he is. Get in trouble if they're found without us." Something about that displays a hint of amusement, as he glances back down, twisting off more bits of bread.

"Mmm," X'vin says around the mouthful of sandwich he managed to get before Ka'ge's question. He's a courteous bronzerider, since he holds a finger up as he finishes chewing, silently entreating Ka'ge wait. Only once he's swallowed does he say, "It wasn't that I wanted to come tell them what to do. Not exactly. I grew up here. Not here, in the weyr. Out there," a broad gesture for the wall across from them. "My father's Hold," is delivered carefully. "I thought if I came back I could help with..." he is slow in trailing off, his brow furrowing. His smile is dim, almost gone, a rarity as he thinks about it. He suffices with, "Few people are handling this situation properly. I've offered my help to Weyrwoman Lilah and N'muir, as they try to make it right. The knot is incidental." For Zym, all X'vin has is a smile and understanding nod; of course he does.

"Are they? Making it right, I mean." Ka'ge asks in a tone that seems aloof, off-handed even, as he regards the darkest segment of bread he'd dissected. He's patient, the boy is, as X'vin works to clear his mouth before speaking. The weyrling bronzerider is in no rush, offering no pressure. There had been a particular re-assessing glance at the clarification of who the Lord Holder is, but it retreats back to his plate in due time, "And, this far past the disaster," it's said as fact, no emotion collected, "how does it fare?" It's been not all unlike living under a rock since Impression. He's lost in the current scope of things. More words seem ready to be spoken, but he stops there, deciding on leaving the open questions as just that, open.

"It takes longer than a seven," X'vin ventures. He pushes his plate away, apparently done for the moment - or for the night. "I've had several reminders that holds are not built in a day. Or, rebuilt, as the case may be." It's very dry, the way he says it, his gaze unfocused on the table for a moment. There's a small amount of frustration betrayed in the twitch of his jaw, once and done, as his teeth grit down on some word or feeling he doesn't express. No clarification comes, for his relations. "I fear some of the damage is going to be harder to undo than others. The mistrust is palpable, and understandable." It's like a switch flips, though, when X'vin finishes. When he looks at Ka'ge again, it's with that trademark smile again. "Where did you come from, Ka'ge? Before you were a dragonrider. Or a candidate, even."

"To be fixed, yes." Ka'ge urges lightly, "But usually there's hints of progression.. or degression, as it were, in the winds." He speaks relatively slowly, weighing the responses and levels of frustration or otherwise that X'vin offers. None seem to change his expression which remains unphased in it's relaxed slight grin. "I've no doubt some will be irreparable." He offers the first of a personal opinion, a small shrug just notable enough to rustle his grey-attire against the chair back, "Though not the structural." There's a pause that's as much verbal as physical at his question, caught off-guard by the sudden switch and his question. Eventually, he offers something, "I've been here awhile. Traveled a little bit before." Lacking details, perhaps the exhaustion has put him off his game.

"Through where?" is genuinely curious, and polite, and prying.

In the grand scheme of things, the slip is bad enough even if his responses otherwise come without hesitation. And it's least fortunate that his expression doesn't betray him. Ka'ge shifts back in his chair a little bit as if with intent to rise. "A decent sized trader caravan between a number of smaller cotholds around Southern." The answer is smooth, and after no more than a beat, "Zymadiath is awake." An easy excuse, but one that can't be called as a bluff. "It was good to speak with you, wingleader." The title is noted heavier than necessary as he moves to leave the table, plate collected in the process.

To X'vin, Besmernyth has been listening, and now he's piqued, his sudden interest stinging like the onset of frostbite. « The boy lies to you, X'vin, » he provides, slowly, confirming the lingering impression that X'vin's already started to mull over. « Zymadiath still slumbers. What would he hide from us? »

"And you made it all the way to Fort to Impress," X'vin remarks, his low whistle a mockery of awe. It's good that Ka'ge doesn't give him any more time to pick away at defenses, and indeed doesn't seem to want to. That his eyes go momentarily glassy could be telling, if Ka'ge wasn't moving away, if he stayed to pay attention. When he comes back to himself, it's with an edge to his toothy smile, though his words are still pleasant and polite. "Of course, tend to him. I don't want to be responsible for getting you in trouble. You'll have to tell me, someday, of your travels. I'd love to hear more." He turns back to his sandwich, with that, and to the conversation on his other side.

Ka'ge pauses in his retreat in what could be considered listening to X'vin's final words, having missed all of what occurred with his decision to evade. "Of course. If you're not too busy taming a bunch of wingriders." Is equally as polite, touching on Flint's reputation, and then moving on. It's at these times that hood is useful, for his farewell has a curl to it that may be associated with a less-than-polite expression. He'd not linger longer than it would take those words leave him before the plate's deposited and he's dissolving into the few groups coming and going from the cavern tunnels.



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