Logs:Outside Ears
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| RL Date: 9 June, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, T'mic2 |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Ista Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del takes a brief escape from the Reaches, and finally actually meets T'mic. They climb stairs. |
| Where: Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions, N'thei/Mentions, P'ax/Mentions |
| Waterfall Pool, Ista Weyr From high above a majestic waterfall thunders, dropping into a broad, shaded glade and its deep, stone-bottomed pool. The constant roar of the water plunging from the top of the plateau drowns out the sounds of the ocean. A curious stream runs from the pool to the sea through the jungle greenery that keeps the water constantly cool. A few dozen paces from the stone ring of the pool is a flat, grassy area, spotted with occasional wildflowers and little clovers and removed just enough from the splashing water that voices are more easily heard. Behind the pool, the cliff wall is rocky; ancient-carved steps meander up the wall, just far enough from the waterfall to be passable though moss and dampness make the path exciting. Another, less dangerous path seems to lead back to a tight squeeze and a certain shower if one chooses to pass behind the waterfall. It's a lovely evening on Ista Island - even here, with the thunder of the waterfall providing a constant, soothing backdrop and humidity cooling the air to a temperature just the right side of warm enough. A dark green claims nearly the center of the clearing, her rider (or if he isn't, someone very uppity indeed), slathering her with oil. "We'll go see him later," the man promises as the green lets her wing drop, nearly hiding him from sight. He laughs, "Shells!" but that's as much protest as he's willing to give just now. Greeny pale and scrawny, the bronze that swings down towards a splashy landing in the pool is definitely not a local, or maybe that's what can be gleaned from his rider, who wanders in from the beach, his trousers rolled up and chest bare, revealing winter-pale skin. "Don'--" he begins, as his dragon's splash rises from that forceful intrusion, but he's a little late, and can only hold back a laugh, instead. The bronze's head ducks towards the waterfall, letting the water splash right over him, as, heaving a sigh, the rider wanders closer, via a path that at least alerts him to the presence of green and rider, though, as yet, he makes no attempt to hail the pair. The green's head lolls, though prettily, as she casts an eye on the bronze; her rider (or the uppity not-rider) struggles his way out from under her wing, still laughing, and tosses the oily rag onto her shoulder. "See if I oil -you- again!" he threatens, and she cowers, no really, stretching languidly against the grass and still watching Cadejoth. Quieter, then, "I see him," Mic says and turns to try and find the rider, crossing to fetch the discarded rag about the same time he spots the pale-skinned foreigner. He waits, though, for the other man to be in earshot before calling, "Ista's duties!" Despite Cadejoth's obvious infatuation with the waterfall (it's cold! And wet! But not snow-cold! And moving on it's own like that!), and the enthusiastic splashing that he indulges in, it's probably a fair bet that he's seen Aath, too. Even if the water still comes first - for now. His rider, now greeted, turns his attention more directly towards the other man and the green; he returns the greeting in an easy enough tone, accent lightly Tillekian, saying, "And High Reaches', in return." He angles his path closer towards the pair, rather than aiming directly towards his frolicking lifemate, which means he doesn't have to outright yell as he adds, "Lovely evening." T'mic leaves Aath behind - poor Aath, forced to lie on the grass and watch a bronze indulge himself! - in order to toss the oily rag into a bucket and smooth the remnants onto his own forearms, idly. "I'd ask what brings a Reaches rider down here, but I bet I know," he grins, glancing pointedly into the sky. "Welcome. Enjoy the lack of freezing. How long are you staying? I'm Mic," he adds, jerks a thumb over his shoulder, "And that's Aath. She's not proddy." "Make a habit of reassuring people on that score?" K'del wants to know, of Aath's proddiness (or not, as the case may be), though he's grinning lazily as he asks it. "Cadejoth doesn't chase greens anymore, anyway, though, so we'd be safe." He's a few paces away, now, and comes to a halt, at which point he adds, "K'del. And Cadejoth. And right, here for the sun and warmth, but only for a few hours; can't get away for long, sadly." Cadejoth's tail slaps merrily against the water, turning it into a wave pool, much to his own amusement. "Well," Mic says with a flash of a smirk, "She will be, in a few days." Perhaps there's a reason for his pre-emptive warning - certainly the green is watching Cadejoth with a certain intensity of interest that might send up warning flags. But that name - /those/ names - brush the knowing look aside and replace it with one of interest. "-You're-...? Huh. Well, now you're really welcome to Ista, sir. Too bad you can't stay. Sunset's in a couple of hours, if you can stay that long...?" K'del looks briefly amused, for that smirk, and the words that follow it, his head beginning to tilt down into a quick nod right about the point at which the greenrider puts those names to a face, at which point he makes that face an interesting one, all grimacey. "Younger than you expected, or-- wait, you're that Mic, aren't you? T'mic." With an enphasis upon the 't'. "K'del. Or Kas. Really. Not here on business. And," with a glance at Cadejoth, whose latest rumble is /particularly/ enthusiastic, "Reckon I won't get him away anytime soon, anyway. So. A couple of hours, sure, why not." T'mic's smirk returns - no, it's half of a beam, just hung crooked. "Tuh-mic, yeah." With emphasis on the T-apostrophe. "All right, K'del-or-Kas. Which do you like better? Great view from up there," he adds, pointing lazily backwards at the top of the plateau, so high above them. "'Ve you been? Where -have- you been? Want a tour?" K'del grins, which makes him look even younger than he is: utterly carefree, at least for now. "Heard mention of you a few times. Millie. And P'ax. Should've figured I'd run into you eventually. Kas, if you would. Been that longer than anything else." His gaze - tilted up, and turned to get a better view - considers the plateau, then he shakes his head. "Not been up there. Saw some of the jungle with Avey, once. And the beach. Not much more. And sure - a tour'd be good." The greenrider tosses an utterly fond, "Shush," over his shoulder at an unheard comment from Aath before hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "Millie. And P'ax," he repeats with precisely the same emphasis, his grin never fading. "Shoulda known. Better than Emilly, though. And yeah, s'why I go by Mic, still." He turns to consider the heights, traces the path of the steps clinging to the wall and casts the younger (taller) man a semi-challenging look sidelong. "You want the climb? Or there's an easier path over there. Not as much wet-rock-going-to-die to it." "Mostly Millie. P'ax and I--" But K'del seems to decide better of going into that, and simply shrugs instead. "Don't know Emilly that well. Just... Millie's mum." His gaze flicks between the steps and the greenrider, and then, with a grin more lazy than determined-to-meet-the-challenge, "Climb. Trying to get more exercise, anyway. Keep having to miss drills." "Paddy's mum too," Mic reminds with a shrug of his own. "She's... nice." Let the bronzerider read into that pause what he will. He snorts, though, at 'having to miss'. "You're the sharding Weyrleader. The only drills you /have/ to miss are the ones you don't want to go to. Or," he hesitates, tact arriving too late, "Don't they have you leading a wing?" There's a gesture at the stairs: want to do that instead of watching Mic swallow his knee? "Right. And I've met him. But I know Millie better, so I think of her that way." By K'del's expression, he's reading something into that pause, but what it is, exactly, is impossible to determine. Mic's tact, or lack thereof, just makes the bronzerider laugh as, tilting his head into a nod, he begins to make his way towards the stairs. "You can go first, though. No, I've got a wing, but Sisha - she's my Wingsecond - does most of the leading. Don't know a thing about it, honestly, and things keep coming up, so I end up not being there. It's... Well. It is what it is." T'mic says, "You probably've met Remi, then, too?" His hand shoots up to the limit of his arm. Roughly about K'del's height, actually. "Didn't know you knew Paddy. He never tells me anything." As a complaint, it needs a lot of work. Still, he trots gamely after Kas, catching him up and falling into step beside, having to add a quick hitched step only every few strides or so. "Well, climbing the cliff's nothing like flying drills, unless you usually end 'em with your heart trying to either pound out of your chest or climb out your throat." With a laugh, K'del shakes his head. "Know about him - know about most of Millie's family - but haven't met him. Only met P'draig in passing, for that matter, so that'd be a reason he never mentioned it." He tries to keep his stride from getting too long, but his natural walk is pretty fast, so he's not all that successful - a few short steps, then a longer one, and so on. "Hah. No. But I bet climbing it uses muscles I haven't been using much, sitting in meetings and doing paperwork." Pause. "Not that I'm completely sedentary." T'mic tilts a hand - well, yeah - at a possible reason for P'draig not to mention K'del. If he wants to use /logic/...! "You know if we held hands, I wouldn't have to jog to keep up with you," he points out, sending a teasing look sideways and up. "And I promise not to drool if you want to climb the steps first." He's got a short laugh of his own, then. "Yeah, no. You'll be feeling this, in the morning." K'del's amusement at that tilted hand fades rather distinctly under the weight of that teasing look, and the suggestion that accompanies it. "Reckon I'll try and just slow down, thanks all the same," is what he says, however, in a fairly obvious attempt at not-being-offended. Really. Certainly he does do slightly better, for the rest of the distance to the stairs. Meanwhile, "Least it might help me get laughed at by weyrlings less." T'mic does not-offended far better, but then, he's got turns and turns on K'del. It's an easy shrug, an equally easy smile, a wrinkle of his nose that might say 'thanks' to the slackened pace. "Paddy still forgets, sometimes," he says by way of apology. And with another sidelong look, "Weyrlings laugh at you? S'not good. You could take up swimming? S'better, over all, than just climbing stairs." Even -these- stairs, which climb and twist and zig-zag alarmingly. That kind of reaction does quite a bit to further re-relaxing K'del: he can deal with that. Phew. "I always do. Least Millie's tall enough to keep up. Only one weyrling, but it was enough. They're mostly older than me, too; that's embarrassing. Swimming? Not much use at this time of turn. At the Reaches. Try and get some skating in, though." They're pretty impressive stairs, enough so that K'del gives them a thoughtful, considering glance as they approach. "You can definitely go first." "/Skating/," says the greenrider with a Southern's scorn for such a ridiculous pursuit. "And who says you have to stick to the Reaches?" His arm waves back at the pool, at Cadejoth unseen, at the beach past him and the ocean past -that-. "You know -how- to swim, don't you?" There's another quick grin for the no-you-first, but he goes ahead willingly, up a few steps and pausing, looking over his shoulder. "Never skated as a kid - didn't have anywhere to do it, in my corner of Tillek - but I'm gaining an appreciation, now. It's fun." But K'del's defense of the passtime is not particularly determined, amusement visible in his expression again. "Course I know how to swim. And sure, suppose I don't have to stay there, but... Feel bad, leaving too much. Specially at the moment. First time we've been out except within the coverage area in... Months." He's quick enough to follow the greenrider, gaze lifting to meet his as he looks back, though his steps are pretty careful. T'mic says, "Any activity where you have to put /on/ clothes...!" but leaves it at that, just grins wide and swings back to resume his climb. "Why? Eggs've hatched, right? I was going to come, but there, uh. I was busy. Besides," he adds, "It's inter-Weyr relations, yeah? We -like- having people vist." Laughing, "Crazy Istans. Not /everything/ we do at the Reaches involves clothes, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. Got to work with the weather you have, see." K'del's concentration on the climb doesn't stop him from answering questions, though it takes him a minute: got to get to that next step, first, apparently. "Sure they have. But... there's still things going on. Keeping me busy. Can't just walk out on it all." Pause. "Not much, anyway. Take your point, though. Maybe if I visit your Weyrleaders occasionally, it'll be like... like work!" "Once a seven," the greenrider says firmly, sounding like he doesn't expect to be gainsaid, "Twice a month at the very least." Three more steps before he adds, teasing again, "Sir," and sends a laughing look back (now that he's finally tall enough!) into the bronzerider's eyes. "Else it's not going to do you much good now, is it? Besides, would you rather be up there, neck deep in snow and freezing your... fingers off, or down -here-?" Again he sweeps one arm, displaying this time his own light clothing in addition to the jungle greenery. "I'll take that under advisement, Healer Mic," laughs K'del, meeting T'mic's gaze with a grin, as he scales another step upwards. Not that he's taking in the view at all: all steps, all the time, except when he's glancing at the greenrider. "Like the Reaches perfectly well, though, cold or not. Cold's not so bad, whatever you think. It is nice here, though." T'mic shivers dramatically and claps his arms to his chest like the breeze that blows toward the sea whistles straight off a glacier. "No thanks! I went to Tillek, once. One of the last runs before the harbor froze, or something. Thought I was going to -die-." He makes easy work of the steps, at least this low down, his arms swinging naturally. "'Course, I'd come pretty much straight from Southern. But Paddy used to be at Fort." Like this means he ought to get some sort of medal. K'del can, apparently, do nothing but shake his head, a good deal amused, but with a slight roll of his eyes, too. "No tolerance. Careful, or I'll take offense on behalf of my Weyr, not to mention my home Hold. Area, anyway. So you're from Southern, not Ista, originally?" Paddy's being at Fort earns no response; no medals from this one, though the amusement just keeps on going. Mic doesn't look back, but the grin's still evident in his voice. "And do what about it, Weyrleader?" Precisely? At the first switchback he pauses, waiting for Kas to catch up, still breathing easily. "Southern, yeah. You should hear me when I get back from visiting - Paddy laughs. And shells." He squints up at the sky. "We were just talking about that. Aath's ten, so... eleven turns, I think? Something like that. I'm thirty-something. Thirty-two?" In case the bronzerider knows. K'del, without pausing to think, "Cause an inter-weyr incident, and insist on reparations from your Weyrleaders." Only, it'd be pretty hard not to miss the humour in his tone. He catches up before too much longer, his breathing, so far, not much raised above what it was before (though for how long - well, that remains to be seen). "Eleven turns. Huh." What he doesn't say, though it'd be faintly visible in his expression if T'mic glanced his way, is 'so you're almost twice my age, then'. Woe. Though why that'd matter... insecurities are fun. T'mic only snorts, as worried by the threat as Aath was by his scolding. "'Bout that," the older man agrees easily. "I'd been here a few months before I was Searched, and that was pretty soon after the clutching, so..." Let K'del do the math, if he wants. "Oldest one in my weyrling class. Youngest was ten turns younger'n me. Wish I'd Impressed younger, sometimes. Would've made things easier." A wave toward the steps - shall they? - but he doesn't wait for a reply before heading up again. "Only been at the Reaches a few months, if that, even, when I was searched, too," says K'del, having nodded easily through everything T'mic has to say before he speaks. Resuming the climb, a few moments after the greenrider, he continues, "Not so easiest being the youngest, either. Well. Not the /youngest/. Younger. Hard to be taken seriously, when you're young. Did you feel left out because you were older, then? Or just... different." "Mmm," says Mic at first, before falling quiet to conquer a few more steps. "I don't know. Aath took up so much of... well, so much of -everything-. I'm not really close to any of my clutchmates. We go out for drinks and such, but... huh. I don't know." He spares the attention from wet stone to look back again. "I didn't have much in common with them, the younger ones, except that we were all weyrlings together. And Aath's no closer to her clutchbrothers than she is any other male, so there isn't that connection, either." "Right," says K'del, having listened his way through all of what Mic has to say. "Suppose that makes sense." Edging his way up a few more steps, he adds, "Figured I would be close to mine. Only... Two turns since we Impressed, nearly, and I barely talk to the ones I was actively friendly with, during weyrlinghood. Some because we just don't see each other, or have the time, or whatever, but still. Don't suppose it matters, though, so long as we all do have friends." But he still sounds pretty thoughtful about it. T'mic probably doesn't give the climb the attention it deserves, not wet stone, not too high, not with no dragons to catch them - but then again, he's probably made this trip more than once. "It's the friends part that's important," he agrees. "Just because someone's dragon is Cadejoth's clutchsib doesn't mean you have to like them. Any more than you're best friends with someone just because they come from Tillek." Another pause, probably another grin. "Or have blue eyes. It's something in common, something to start from, not the end-all, be-all." Whereas K'del is concentrating very closely indeed, and definitely not looking behind him, at the distance they've covered, or the view beyond. One foot in front of the other, carefully balanced. "Or are my age," he puts in, like it's an important consideration for him, though his slow, even nod continues even for that. "Right. Better off being friends with people we actually like. Though Cadejoth thinks I should be friends with the people who Impressed /his/ babies. Because they'd have to be perfect, or something." Amusement. "Or because they're your age," the greenrider agrees, and pauses at another switchback. It's a good thing that riders aren't, in general, afraid of heights, because halfway up the side of the plateau? Is really, really high. "Yeah, exactly. But - and I'm slapping on my weyrlingmaster hat, here - I'd avoid getting too close to them, at least until they're in weyrs. They've got the babies to think about, and like it or not, you're the Weyrleader. Distracting." And with that he's off again. Cardiovascular workout, ho! High enough that, as K'del shifts to continue on after T'mic after that switchback, he catches a glimpse of the amount of down, and seems to have something of a reaction, a slight twitching of his expression, as his hand grapples to hold on to something. 'In general', then. "What, you think they'll throw themselves at me, too? Like half the caverns girls. Mostly, kind of avoiding them, actually. The weyrlings. Avoided the candidates a bunch, too. Awkward." His breath is beginning to catch a little, but he doesn't seem to be willing to let this slow him down. Just: deep breaths. "You Weyrlingmaster. Like it? Guess you must, if you keep doing it. Or just the extra marks." There are no safety straps on the side of this cliff. No safety railing, either. "Mnh... no? But - well, shells. You remember what it was like, back in the early days? Have to salute everyone, so tired you're walking into walls, and always that twitch in your head that's never been there before. And the /classes/! Hard enough reaching out to anyone outside the barracks, much less the /Weyrleader/. Who was Weyrleader when you were a Weyrling? Can you imagine him coming in, sitting on your cot, wanting to be buddies?" As for the rest, he snorts, cheerful. "Shells, no. Assistant, not the big knot. That's Paddy. I'd make a sharding rotten Weyrlingmaster." But there's a cliff-face, though, at least, and K'del frequently rests his hand up against it: something solid. "Oh." Pause. "Right. Suppose that makes sense. Was pretty... intense. At first." And then, laughing: "Can't imagine him wanting to be buddies, now. N'thei. Still scares me a little, even if we're the same height, so it's not entirely a physical thing. Though he's..." A wave of the hand. Bulkier, maybe. "Meant, weyrlingmaster in general. Assistant, or otherwise. But: Assistant, then." Now T'mic's breathing faster, heavier, and K'del's hardly had to do any work! (Only keep up.) "Yup." He flings another glance back, looks forward, dropping his head like a runner in harness. "So give it a few months. Don't close them out, but don't go chasing after, a'right? No matter how much Cadejoth wants. Distract him with something else." Another switch back. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I do. I like listening, like helping people figure things out. Me and Aath had a rough time, like I said; I don't want anyone else to go through what we did. Watch your feet." Where he's walking the edges of the treads are more than a little worn, more than a little smooth. Tricky. K'del, meanwhile, is outright puffing. Keeping up, it seems, is quite enough work for this young man. For now. "Makes sense. Thanks. Keep it in mind. Didn't know that many of them before they were candidates, so it's not as though there's... history, I guess. So that's good." More head bobbing. And hey, at least the difficult terrain is giving him something to concentrate on that isn't the fall-that-could-happen. Though the 'watch your feet' comment doesn't help anything. Slow, slow, slow. "Makes sense. That you'd like it I mean. Right kind of person to have around, I guess." That's what you get for Impressing bronze and becoming Weyrleader: soft! "As for those girls in the 'caverns," Mic continues, maybe slowing the pace out of sympathy and maybe because he has to, "Most of 'em just want to brag they fucked the Weyrleader. Which, you know, can't blame 'em." He grins back, over his shoulder, eyes bright from the exertion. "Thanks. I try. You ever wanna bend my ear over anything, just lemme know. Ask Millie." Soft... but still hot. He doesn't react to the change in pace - maybe he doesn't even notice, so focused upon keeping on going, one step after another, regulating his breathing as much as possible. It's pretty pathetic. "Yeah," he says, laughing. "And it's not like it's hard going, having so much choice. But... there's a point, you know?" Mic may not be able to blame them, but K'del? Not listening to that, lalala. Between breaths, "Thanks. If you can manage Millie, and all her chatter..." It's a tease, an exceptionally fond one. "Helps, sometimes, outside ears, I guess." T'mic barks a short, breathy laugh. "There's one way to keep Millie quiet. Doesn't involve those lower cavern girls, either." How far up are they? How many switchbacks? How many -more-? "Yeah, they do. And I don't give a wherry's ass about High Reaches or politics in general." So Kas should feel free to babble? Or perhaps he's sketching out boundaries. "Steep bit's coming up," he adds, and goes quiet to save his breath. ...-Steep- bit. Oh goody. It's a laugh that K'del shares: "Yeah, no kidding. More fun than them, too." He's distinctly not checking how much further. Distinctly. "Better than inside ears, determined to make judgments, or influence things. Keep saying things I shouldn't, to people I shouldn't, even with good people around me to talk to. It's... hard." A deep breath, with a swallow, as they reach that steep bit: he even looks up, gauging it. But: "Steep bit it is." He can do it. The steep bit continues past a switchback, past the /next/ switchback, and Mic's got nothing to add to the conversation but loud breathing. Just as K'del's probably wondering if it would be faster and easier to just throw himself off the side because these stairs won't ever /end/... they do. Into another idyllic grotto, with a stream, and a pool that's the source of the waterfall. Chest heaving, Mic grins and claps Kas on the shoulder before kneeling to gulp up water; after that, and after they catch their breath there's time for a quick tour around the bowl before they head back to the plateau. And the greenrider's right about one thing, at least: the sunset from up there is stunning. |
Comments
T'mic (1) (11:19, 6 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
This was surreal to come across... I mean, I knew it was a thing, but seriously.
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