Logs:Knowing All The Things
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| RL Date: 8 June, 2014 |
| Who: R'hin, Telavi, Bristia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin has a new wing assignment for Telavi. Telavi's suspicious about R'hin's behavior. |
| Where: R'hin's weyr / Somewhere in the Western Isles |
| When: Day 3, Month 13, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Today's wing meeting sees them gather in R'hin's half of the shared weyr he has with Bristia: the contents of which are no more personalized than when they were only here temporarily. It's a fairly standard meeting, with E'nest reporting increasing rumors of ships going missing in Tillek, and A'gon suggesting High Reaches Hold is far too quiet. R'hin spends the meeting standing -- which is normal -- but not striding around thoughtfully -- which is unusual. After, as the wingriders begin to disperse, he catches Telavi's eye. « Stay, » Leiventh relays to Solith, as R'hin eases himself into a chair. That brightens drowsy Solith's interest, but even when she comes across his gaze, Telavi doesn't so much as nod; instead she dawdles until the others have gone, chatting here and there along the way, and returns to lean on the back of the neighboring chair. She tilts her brows up, playing with a hint of a smile: well? Bristia, too, stays behind, arms folded and watching R'hin sharply. The tightness of her expression suggests some sort of contention with R'hin, though the bronzerider's studiously avoiding her gaze. "Let's go on a trip," the Savannah Wingleader says, simply, once everyone else has left. "Open that top drawer over there, grab one for yourself," he says, with a nod towards the drawer in question. Inside is a couple of farseers, lacking the stamp of Journeyman or Master work. Telavi doesn't get between them literally, nor does she seek to do it figuratively, though it might possibly be implied in how she complies; she picks one out and buttons its clasp onto her belt for now, a different sort of questioning look checking whether either rider still needs one too. If so, she'll bring it back; if not-- not. "Anything else special?" R'hin nods briefly at her questioning look, pushing to his feet. "Just your flight gear," he adds, ignoring the press of Bristia's lips. He reaches for his flight jacket, shrugging into it, before heading towards the ledge where Leiventh waits. "This is a scouting mission only. No contact." Whether that's directed at Telavi as much as Bristia isn't clear. Her return nod acknowledges it, swift and businesslike; once he's headed out, Tela's glance to Bristia gives her an opportunity to interject-- if she's going to before the younger greenrider goes, a stop by Solith's small ledge required to gather even heavier garb and a muffler, too, before heading unquestioningly to wherever Leiventh envisions. If Bristia interjects, it's not aloud, and Leiventh shows no signs of it. Launching skyward, Leiventh circles higher and higher while he waits for Solith to join them. When they do, he shares an image: a cloud-filled sky, distant grey outlines of islands far below. Once he's sure she has the image secured, he blinks between. They emerge, high above, too far to see any details of the island below. Leiventh seems content to stay in the lower clouds, R'hin leaning over as far as he straps will allow, pulling out his farseer and inspecting the land below. Telavi could, presumably, seek to look through likewise high-flying Solith's eyes; instead-- more readily?-- she looks through her own farseer on its leash, even if she hasn't been told what she's looking for. Water might mean ships, land might mean habitation, but beyond that? At first glance it's a rocky, barren place. But the longer she looks, the more she can discern signs of life. The first is a ship -- flying no flag -- and a man-made dock leading to the largest, rocky island. After a while she can see people, moving around the beach, further along the shoreline -- going about their seemingly daily lives, oblivious to the people above. An unfamiliar island, not that Telavi's necessarily conversant with each and every lump of rock-- but-- she glances sharply over at Leiventh, and Solith's that much more careful to float within that cloud cover. She gauges what signs of habitation she can see, adjusting her farviewer to try and get a look at their clothing, though at this height... and then there are the numbers: a small seahold? More? « No flag. » Whether that's significant for the lack thereof remains to be seen. R'hin's still watching closely, counting himself. « Just over two score? » the bronze suggests. The clothing of the inhabitants seems better quality than anything the island can solely supply, though undoubtedly they have the ship to thank for that. Those down by the beach look young, too -- children. Solith sends assent; though, with a hesitation that is almost surely hers instead of Telavi's, she envisions an area past the corner of a building that's just come into view. Two more, emerging. « More inside? » Then, with a little humor or perhaps warning, < Lythronath would take the roof off so we could see. » « Then it is good he is not here, » the older bronze says, without a trace of obvious humor. « Pay close attention to the ship. We would like to find it, after. » After what, he doesn't elucidate. R'hin's straightening up, looking thoughtful, looking over towards Telavi. « Yes. » Solith complies, Telavi complies, counting the masts and portholes, the way the bow and stern rake, and similar such matters; with mittens it isn't an easy job to get the also-leashed slate from an outside pocket and record what she can, especially since Solith insists on moving every now and then as the wind shifts and she needs to retain her height. Neither looks back at R'hin just now. Leiventh waits, with that ever patient swirl of cool wind coiling about Solith -- enough to keep track of her, listening and waiting until the other pair are done. Then: « Home. » There's a flash of coldness, of pain, but brief -- as if it isn't meant to be shared. As ever, her warmer breezes flow easily with his-- though then there's a gust of concern that has Telavi looking over, too, right before they disappear. On the other side, home, Solith's apt to still follow Leiventh wherever he goes. In a flash, they're back at High Reaches. It's midday, or close enough, but the day is wintry cool, overcast and raining. Leiventh doesn't circle slowly down for his overview of the Weyr has he normally does, but heads straight for his ledge. It's large enough to accommodate Solith as well, and the invitation appears to be there, though R'hin doesn't wait, heading into the weyr with the hearth going -- Bristia must have done it before she left, though there's no sign of Saindyth now. So Telavi gets dripped on, but it's not like that's anything new at the 'Reaches; Solith too, but she doesn't mind. She stays settled by Leiventh, not so close that she can't look him not-so-subtly over, while Telavi strides after his rider and unfastens her coat along the way. She does peek for Bristia, in case, but then she unclips and proffers the slate. It's not her best handwriting, not aloft, but it's there. "Where were we? Islands, but--" Leiventh seems fine -- the weather doesn't much bother him, and he doesn't seem to mind Solith's nearness -- or holding herself just far enough away. The other door to Bristia's side of their co-habitated weyr is firmly closed and dark. R'hin's stripping off the outer layer of riding gear, leaving it unceremoniously on the floor as he moves to gingerly sink into a seat in front of the hearth. "It's where they rescued the exiles from. I got the image from one of the riders who helped rescue them from the storm. K'son picked up word in one of the local High Reaches bars that they were going back where they came from," he echoes in a suitable redneck-Reachian drawl. Tela's eyes widen, and not because of Solith, who's gradually relaxing in Leiventh's lee; "In that case, they've got a whole lot more perks than the exiles ever had, if anything like rumor is to be believed. Of course, rumor also had it that they were wearing seaweed... do we think it's really the exiles going back?" It's probably not great reinforcement, but she's picking up his gear as she goes along, hanging it with her own where it all can dry. "If it is... they can't do a alot of harm out there. It's all rocks and caves, from what I've been told. Still," R'hin doesn't seem to like that he doesn't know for sure. His fingers tap on the arm of the couch, while pale gaze tracks Telavi's tidying with a rueful twist of lips. "They're too difficult -- too insular to get an in with them. Everyone knows everyone. This is a problem." Because the Savannah Wingleader likes knowing all the things. Her wingleader's not the only one. Rather than join him on the couch, Tela pulls up one of the lighter chairs and sits backwards on it, folding her arms across its back where she can look at him. "It really is. I don't suppose someone could have a bastard daughter hidden under a rock for Turns? No? Hm. At least it must take a while to sail back and forth from there... if it weren't for that ship," or whatever other ships, "they'd be isolated again." R'hin's lips twitch. "They might. But I imagine that's hard to hide on a island. No -- the only way we're getting in is if we recruit someone already in." He's watching her. Is that a challenge he's offering her? "I'm curious to know who owns that ship. I can guess -- I bet we both can -- but I prefer certainty rather than assumptions. I'll make it part of the wing rotation to keep an eye on it once it leaves port." Her eyes darken with the slight dilation of her pupils: interested, even if that weren't all too evident in the way she tips the chair forward, braced with one foot against overturning. "See where it's going, meet it there," Telavi sums up. "I'm also interested in whether they have any kind of guard at all, at night." "It's remote enough that I don't imagine they would. But they'd instantly know you for a stranger," it's warning, even if it's oblique, not to try. "Still," with an exhale, R'hin regards Telavi. "It won't be long before Quinlys takes you back into Flurry, then you'll have other priorities." Telavi gives him a look, if one that's far less overt than she might in some of her other personas; with R'hin, she can get away with subtle. Needs to, sometimes. "They might have firelizards," she allows along those same lines. And then... "You know how much more this is, with our wing. I can keep helping in a way that I can't, there." "I didn't say you couldn't," R'hin counters, leaning forward after a brief grimace. "In fact, I'm counting on it. You'll be able to determine first hand who might be suitable. After all, we have a need to be... selective, that I'm sure K'del will understand. Especially now he's Weyrleader, not just acting." Her head cocks; she's considering R'hin, not just his words. Though what Tela says is, "I suppose. It's not like their behavior while shadowing wings is ever necessarily representative, I know, and they couldn't hide it through a full weyrlinghood, I know," but. She straightens slightly. "I'm hoping to at least join in part-time," she says as a proposal. After a beat of consideration: "If they don't wear you out too much," R'hin allows, "And Quinlys is fine with it." She's still young enough, or open enough with him, that her eyes brighten and her breath sighs out in controlled relief. "It's a deal," Tela says. Then, winsomely, "Ready to go for a run? It's been a few days." "As tempting as that is," and the drop of his voice suggests it's very tempting indeed, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. Tomorrow, maybe?" It's an offer that lacks promise, however, the bronzerider's tone light. A long look later-- "Maybe," Telavi replies, just as lightly. A longer look follows, and her voice lowers. "What's hurting?" It might be a bluff; but the intentness of her gaze suggests certainty that there's something. "My old bones," is R'hin's quick reply, pushing up from the couch. If there's a wince, he hides it well enough, under her sharp gaze. "Go on. There's people I need to talk to. And you," he says, with a sharp look, "Need to build an identity at High Reaches Hold. Something that connects you to the sailors, or the docks. Just in case." And yet it's specific enough not to be just in case. She stands as he does. "I will," Telavi promises; she doesn't ask about the rest again. She might well believe him; she might have chosen to let it go. "I'll pass along what Quinlys says, too, and find out when she expects me to start," and there's similar light talk as she turns her chair around and rounds the couch towards the hearth and what's been drying. The way she swings close to R'hin along the way might even be just a shortcut-- and her hurry making it an accident the way she starts to stumble into him. Habit makes R'hin snatch out a hand to steady her, grunting briefly in the process. His pale eyes are amused, if slightly guarded, as he looks down at her. "Now, now. If you want to feel me up, you have only to ask. I don't stand on formality, sailor." "Thank you," Telavi murmurs with a demure drop of her gaze, and when she looks up again, she makes no attempt to hide the humor-- nor the rueful tinge of vexation at not achieving a less qualified success-- that's joined it for him to see. For the opportunity to conduct a closer examination, "I'd hate to bother your bones when they're feeling so old. Why don't you take a nap, and I'll send up a posset?" It comes with a cheeky smile as Tela moves to slip past, en route to gather her things and go. That earns her a slap on the rear as she retreats. He's not that old that he can't get in the last word -- so to speak. |
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