Logs:The Great Breakfast Brawl
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| RL Date: 7 March, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Brieli, Ceawlin, H'kon, Kaeden, K'del, Tiziano, Vienne, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del runs into H'kon. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't go well. |
| Where: Living Caverns / Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. There's strength in numbers, which might be why, despite the increasing number of looks he's been getting from various dragonriders in the past week, H'kon has at least forced himself to Avalanche's table following their morning drills. But now, as some gather for a later breakfast, the table begins to break up. H'kon is among those leaving, an empty mug in hand. The queue for klah is eyed dubiously, a mental debate goes on, standing at the edge of his table, and finally, he moves for the end, keeping his shoulders squared, but his eyes gaze floating as he moves. Ceawlin is tucked away in a corner, being a harper; for once unobtrusive and not really drawing attention to himself beyond the subtle, soft notes of play in the background. Low-toned, bouncy tune that's not too fast and not too slow for the caverns atmosphere. Pale head is bowed, concentration on the instrument and not on much of anything else right this moment. It's probably inevitable that, despite K'del's apparent intention to only smear H'kon behind his back, eventually the two riders would run in to each other. Actually, it's probably more surprising that it's taken this long-- a whole week since the whole debacle began. The bronzerider is on his way in to the caverns, alone, and though his eventual destination doesn't seem to be the klah queue, the sweep of his gaze does eventually pass there. He stops, right there in the middle of the caverns, expression turning abruptly from 'impassive' to 'very nearly murderously angry'. Kaeden has been sitting just as quietly beside Ceawlin, casually writing on a roll of parchment. His attention wanders often to the rest of the cavern, however, so he soon gently nudges his fellow candidate, more of a tap with his elbow, really, his eyes focused on K'del. As usual, Brieli takes her breakfast, and takes her time over it in the living cavern. There's not much of an Aurora wing table, given there's all of two goldriders in the wing, so she sits alone with her mug and her mostly-empty plate, dark sharp gaze crowd-watching for just such a reason. When she spots K'del and follows his gaze, she lifts her mug slowly to cover any expression she might let slip. Vienne has been eating, and though there might be another Snowdrift rider at her table, it's hardly a collective wing-dining experience. Rather, it's a variety of people she's been sitting with, chatting casually. She's put away breakfast with some speed only to stop rather abruptly without finishing. It's likely, over the course of the meal, that she's been among those who glance in H'kon's direction, though hardly the source of pointed looks. Which also means that, as K'del passes through and stops so purposefully, the small bluerider pushes her plate away and starts to get up. Z'ian's pushed himself through another breakfast with a group of people that aren't exactly his biggest fans, but this morning has seemed particularly less tense at Boreal's table than it's been in recent sevens. As the group breaks up, the bronzerider gets rid of his dishes and slips away from the group. Before he goes, he returns to the serving line to get another cup of klah. While waiting in que for his refill, he's allowed the luxury of leaning aginst the counter and surveying the crowd. It's by chance that he spots K'del amongst the mass of humanity, his eyebrows drawing and following his gaze to H'kon. H'kon has drawn up behind a young woman in the line, some resident he doesn't know. She gets just a quick nod when she turns to him. The one who falls in line behind him, too, and there it stops, only his immediate neighbours acknowledged. But even H'kon will start to feel more prickles on his neck than have been the norm, even with the whole gold flight debacle, and all the rest. It sharpens up those green eyes, has him gripping his mug a bit tighter. Has him looking in the direction that so many others are looking. K'del. H'kon lifts his chin faintly, not really a brownrider nod. Only once does the music stumble; that moment when Ceawlin is nudged and attention is grabbed by the coming storm. "Mmmm," quietly murmured to his corner-companion here, and thus the nosy harper's attention is caught on brown- and bronzeriders. Cold blue eyes glance once to the goldrider, perhaps to gauge the Weyrwoman's reaction. For now, it's all the apprentice can do to keep the music playing at the same pace and in the same soft sound as before. "Storm's comin'." Muttered in aside to Kaeden. "You." K'del is loud enough that even those who might not have noticed him, just yet, probably have now: loud enough that a few people jump in fright. The former Weyrleader is not exactly known for explosive outbursts in the living caverns (or, indeed, anywhere), but there's no hesitation in this, now. He doesn't really seem to be aware of anyone else, as if the caverns have emptied out in his mind, leaving just him and the (murderous, traitorous) brownrider - not that stops him from yelling. "Going to come and explain it all away for me? 'Oh, it wasn't me, I don't know how it got there, I had nothing to do with it?'" "Batten down the hatches and hold on," Kaeden agrees, looking almost excited to see what comes next. Parchment is left to roll, pen gets cleaned and stored, then he leans forward, small, capped vial of ink in his hands, fiddled idly between calloused fingers. He also gives Brieli a very quick study, but there's no question where the action is right now. Any reaction from the Weyrwoman (Acting though she may be) is hidden behind the sip she takes from her mug, but Brieli's dark gaze is drawn irrevocably to the disaster about to occur, and unlike certain blue-riding former Harpers that like to go adjusting and fixing, she seems to feel no need whatsoever to get up and try and stop it. If she even could. Well, Iesaryth might, but she doesn't seem to be dragging anyone into the deep just yet. Maybe she figures it's bound to happen anyway? Maybe she's just enjoying it? But for now? She's just a spectator, along with everyone else. Z'ian is ahead of H'kon on that line, his mug just about to get refilled. But he's becoming gradually more distracted by the increase of tension in the cavern. Uncomfortable, he merely nods quickly and politely to the girl behind the line who helps him with his drink. The yelling from K'del does it for him and he drops back, letting the rest of the people who are moving along to get their klah go past him. The Wingleader hangs back by the brownrider, not exactly jumping between the two to stop it but merely standing by as an obvious prescence. Maybe he figures at least some of this has to play out before an intervention should happen. His glance flickers to Brieli across the room and he slides his mug down onto an empty spot of the serving line. H'kon's face pulls flat, lips a hard line, eyes fully focused now. Peripheral vision is the only guide as he makes his way a bit away from the line, from the bystanders, toward that area where the crowds are scattering out of the way, like so many dried leaves swept away by a leaping dragon's wings. He seems - probably is - oblivious to Z'ian's movements. "I do not know of what you speak," comes low, a usual speaking volume sounding all kinds of quiet compared to K'del's yelling. Just what does a miniature bluerider think she can do in this situation? Vienne surely doesn't seem certain. There's concern making her mouth small and her eyes wide as they dart about, looking for, hoping for, some interfering hand to address the situation. But her glance finds few people doing anything other than staring. It doesn't take long for quick steps to put her behind K'del, though she hesitates to do anything further than hope the bronzerider has finished saying his piece and that will be all, as unlikely as that seems. Her eyes dart sideways toward Brieli, just a wordless question, and she spies Z'ian on the other side of H'kon with something a bit more imploring on her face. To all High Reaches dragons, Arekoth is alert, the slightest glow pushing to the Weyr's dragons, too light to have any real colour, though there's certainly an anticipatory coldness to the brown's rare wide-spread imagery. Only Iesaryth might get a little more, a hint of purple centred nearer the sands, where the brown's wings rustle on his shoulders. Count on the stormcrow to show up when shit is getting tense...or worse. Into the cavern pads Alida, looking a little dusty and dirty from being in the middle of cleaning up hearths and such. A pail of dead charcoal depends from one hand, a large pair of cleaner and scooper in the other mitt...and a determined look settled upon the candidate's brow. When the yelling and scowling beyond her is heard and witnessed... well, the young woman doesn't avoid it at all. Instead, she moves in unhurried fashion over to the hearth, and starts banking the fire enough so that she can remove excess coals to the side, in order for them to cool. The yelling is really not necessary, now, not when he's already got the attention of pretty much the entire room - and H'kon in particular - but K'del can't seem to stop himself. "Bullshit you don't," he yells, spittle leaving his mouth with as much force as the words. "Azaylia found Iolene's pendant on your ledge. On your fucking ledge. You fucking-- I trusted you." He's too angry for the tears that have been so frequently his, of late; too angry to do anything but stare daggers at the brownrider, and utterly ignore everyone else. Quiet snickering might be coming from Ceawlin's corner, but further commentary is halted to watch what unfolds. Slowly, the harper's strumming comes to its natural close at precisely the moment K'del's accusations are flung. So now, he watches, instrument cradled in his arms. Oh goodie. Drama. Something to write home about! Kaeden's dark eyes take on a sharper, more intent cast as H'kon turns to face K'del. He gives Ceawlin a quick look, gently taps his ink vial on the table, then slowly gets to his feet. The better to see or move, and move he does, though slowly, angling through the stilling crowd toward Brieli's table. Just because. To all High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth blocks out Arekoth's glow, building up layer upon layer of protective chain: chains, metallic chains, to keep his rider safe. The ends rattle and twist, clattering against bones in a staccato warning bell. Z'ian's gaze continuously moves around the thinning crowd, spying Vienne coming up behind K'del. He gives a nod towards her imploring look. Some of his wing remains behind at their table, watching the former Weyrleader with wide eyes. The bronzerider lifts one hand up casually and a few of the more loyal (and larger) Boreal riders slip to their feet, approaching the two men carefully. But for now everyone stays out of the way of both. For his part, he sticks close to the brownrider, not behind but in front of him. "K'del." It's loud enough to hopefully get his attention, a firm voice that's not playing around. "Stop this." With a little sigh, Brieli sets down her mug, lips pursed. All the glances her way seem to have moved the young goldrider to at least rise from her seat slowly, though K'del's words have her freeze momentarily in the act, have her staring at H'kon for a long, long moment. She can't even return Vienne's glance, process that Z'ian's stepped in, or there's a candidate on the way. Click. Something's occurred to her, that much is unusually transparent with the arch of fine brows - and then they come together as she straightens, one hand at the small of her back, gaze flickering between brownrider and bronzerider. What to do. Vienne shoots a cold, remonstrative look toward that snickering corner. Not funny. And when she turns back to see Z'ian stepping up, there's at least a touch of relief in her eyes. She darts a pointed glance for him, a faint tip of her head toward H'kon, and even though she likely knows K'del is locked in his bubble of rage, she lifts a hand toward his back, a light touch that aspires to break him out of his single-mindedness. Her voice isn't nearly so commanding as Z'ian's, but for her part she says quietly, "K'del. Not here." Now *this* is interesting! And since Alida's rather used to drama of the irate sort, well, she simply continues tending to the hearth in quiet fashion...the oddest little bit of a dark smile playing across her lips, a bit of a feral glint in those clear green eyes. Ohhh, how her ears listen, and how that gaze flicks about now and again to keep things in perspective. Those remaining members of Avalanche are not idle either. Well, not all of them, though surely their loyalties are pressed when it's K'del, of all people, facing off against the rider still to be numbered among their membership. H'kon doesn't much seem to mark them. He lifts his chin the more, stands as straight as he can, though it does little to have him see over a man so tall as Z'ian. It's the block provided by Boreal's wingleader that might be he cause of his projecting his voice a bit more. "I had and have nothing of Iolene. I keep nothing on my ledge." With a bit more of a grating tone, "I would not make any attempt against any weyrwoman's safety." Ceawlin is all innocent looks once Vienne's remonstrative looks are directed their way. However, he then shares a look with Kaeden, eyebrows arching. "S'about to get good," he tells the dockworker-candidate in a low murmur meant for Kaed's ears alone. At least there's no snickering anymore, right? There's a sudden surge, a wave that comes up and over the Weyr with the terrifying power of a tsunami, but it's held back for now, and a saltwater trickle sneaks through Cadejoth's defenses, while bubbly seafoam attempts to soothe Arekoth. But the strength is still there, and Iesaryth will accept no argument from either dragon: « Tell them to take it somewhere else. Not there. » She shows the council room, the guest weyr, a rapid succession of images, just not all the staring faces that her rider is surely seeing. (Iesaryth to all High Reaches dragons) The foam serves as minor amplification, a frothy purple before Arekoth's aurora subsides in favour of hard words. « There's nothing to be taken, » is clearly more directed at Cadejoth, nearly threatening. Let that rattle around in his chains. (Arekoth to all High Reaches dragons) « Off the sands until you control your rider, Arekoth. Now! » Iesaryth is not even dealing with his mouth today, thanks. (Iesaryth to all High Reaches dragons) There's a hand on his back, and more voice than one reminding him of where he is, who he is, what this is-- but K'del is in that bubble of pure rage, and it's all too much. His hands are in fists, now, and it's just too bad that Z'ian is in his way, because it's as though he's being fuelled by some external energy source, acting on instinct to throw himself at that bronzerider to try and get past, and put a (righteous) fist into H'kon's person. "Then why did you have her pendant," he yells--cries--screams. It's only after he's shoved himself at Z'ian that his body goes abruptly stiff, some new force acting upon his momentum. And, okay: now there are tears. "You helped him. You fucking helped him, and you knew." Kaeden has left the table behind that he'd been sharing with Ceawlin, and now settles in a pocket of other onlookers where his modest height allows him a decent view without being too much of a block to anyone behind him. He rests his hands behind him and leans back against a chair, nothing but curiosity in his expression at the moment, head tilted very slightly as if trying to catch every word. Curiosity is quickly replaced by puzzlement, however. He does not exactly know who all the He's and She's are in this dialogue. Half the weyr - more! - might hear Cadejoth's more physical bellow: the one he makes from so high above the Weyr, looking down from the rim over what he still considers to be his. (Cadejoth to all High Reaches dragons) It's only atmospheric crackle - no light - to signal Arekoth's taking to wing, a burst of excitement, as if that command from Iesaryth was a permission he'd been waiting on, the whole time. His shriek answers the bronze's bellow, but any upward motion is no more than that call-out. And then it's a dart over the bowl, to wait outside the cavern's entrance, barely able to keep his feet grounded once he's landed, wings active still, shuffling, restless. (Arekoth to all High Reaches dragons) Z'ian was likely more or less prepared for this to happen. Because when K'del surges at him to try and get at H'kon behind him, the wingleader wraps his arms around the body of his friend and squeezes tightly. The other man still has free arms so if H'kon doesn't get out of the range of fire, well. Z'ian is doing what he can here, okay? K'del's no twig. If he's strong enough, he's paused the other bronzerider in his advance on the Avalanche rider. And if there's any luck for him today he'll be able to push him back some. "Remember yourself, K'del. For fucks sake." That comes out low through gritted teeth into the other man's ear. Oh, moving is not good. When K'del steps forward, Vienne's hand reflexively tries to snag his jacket, as if her ineffective strength has any hope of holding him back. Also, thanks, all you lovely strong wingriders, for standing around and letting the smallest woman in the room attempt this job. "K'del, please," she begs him, though it's unlikely anyone can hear her over the bronzerider's screams. She's dragged forward a step, rather than managing to do anything to stop K'del, but when Z'ian gets himself so firmly in the way, she releases her grip to try to dart around toward H'kon. Aww yeah...this is *living*! This is one of the ultimates in real, in living fully, in the moment...even if it's rage. Alida is one of those people, if she was born into very different circumstance, who would've made a near-perfect Marine, or warrior. Every thew in her form is tensed in subtle fashion, ready to send the young woman into whatever action is wanted, needed, dictated. And yet, she appears oh-so-calm at the hearth, still scraping, shoveling...and watching. It's never as much fun as Brieli wants it to be when there's tears. It's there in the twist of her mouth, the way she lifts slender fingers to her temple as there's a bellow outside, a dragon furious and pained. Something is likely going on mentally with all the riders at this point, and maybe it's something of her own lifemate that pushes her into action, her long legs quick to close the distance between her table and the altercation... though something in K'del's reaction makes her stop by Kaeden's group of onlookers and pick him out. "Help Z'ian get him out of here, would you?" There's not much of a pause for an answer, as she's headed for H'kon as well, with a significant glance for Vienne. "Brownrider." H'kon, obviously. "Get out of here." To all High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth is not going anywhere. You want to make something of it, Arekoth? You come here. The bronze is clearly trying to follow Iesaryth's instruction, unable to fight back against a queen's command... but his rider is another thing altogether. Another bellow follows. Tiziano is given the Look when he invades Ceawlin's space. Maybe the harper apprentice is going to bite it off. "Altercation," he whisper-comments, chin-nodding to K'del, H'kon, and the rest. "Just watch. Accusations are flying." Then he motions for fellow Candidate to shush and watch. Waaaaaaatch. Boreal's bronzerider provides H'kon time enough to take a quick step back, almost light on his feet, while that mug comes out to be held at his side, as if a weapon, old hand-to-hand training coming back for a moment before the brownrider's reminded himself of... well, himself. The mug lowers. "Had I known I would have acted to protect even Iolene," has regained its comparative quiet. His insistence that, "I have not betrayed my Weyr, nor you," is mostly lost when one of Boreal's wingriders, going to help Z'ian, gets a shouted, "Hands off!" from one of Avalanche's. He's going in, and Z'ian, Vienne, H'kon? If they get hit, well, collateral damage. Z'ian may have K'del about the middle, but those arms are free, and rage fuels his strength to a level that would normally be impossible. Unfortunately, this sudden influx of riders into the fray makes actually reaching H'kon impossible, and without a target to reach for, K'del goes abruptly very limp, likely to drop to his knees unless Z'ian keeps him standing. Unfortunately for H'kon, the brawl that's more or less unfolding is not so easily fixed: punches are beginning to fly. And if K'del's lucky, someone else will get H'kon for him, because wouldn't he look so much better with a second black eye? Kaeden doesn't stop to question Brieli's command, quickly moving to follow her toward the group, if a good step behind. His puny white knot doesn't generally get tangled with riders' knots like this, after all. He may have heard the bellow from the bowl, but unlike the riders around him, Kaed has no inner voice influencing him but his own, so when yet more riders get into it, the candidate can only react by following Brieli's original order. He moves next to Z'ian and the suddenly limp K'del, ready to grab the latter, though the newly flying fists give him pause as he glances from one face to the next. Candidate is out of his league, in a hurry. With the punches starting to fly, Alida surges up from the hearth, her eyes glittering, her lips thinned, the candidate's features tensed into lines of utter concentration. Dropping her cleaning apparatus to the floor, the woman steps like a tunnelsnake over towards Brieli, and raps off to her in a voice both flat and yet eager, "Weyrwoman; point me where you need help with them. I can handle it." "Oooooo," Tiziano's mouth even makes an 'O' with his mouth as he says it. Eyes zipping to the situation going down to Ceawlin and back again. The candidate to back to his feet, having sat for only a few moments. Onto his tip toes he goes, trying to watch everything going down. It's an exclamation of surprise as fists start flying. "Shards! Riders are fighting!" He throws a look back over to the other candidate. "You see, you see? They're throwing punches!" As more riders seem to get involved, the teenager does the smart thing and stays where he is. "Shoot, I think Kaeden is going in to fight too. Do we help him, Ceawlin?" Hands go instantly to Tiziano's own face, peeking out between his fingers. Waiting to see what happens. Ceawlin lives by the motto, 'He who runs away, lives to fight another day.' So he's not going to be jumping up anytime soon, and in fact, Alida's sudden action gets a cold look incredulity. The girl's got balls. Tiziano's like the bouncing jack-in-a-box next to him, earning a sharp look of irritation, "Yes, yes, I can see." Despite being wedged in a corner and short. But hey, that's what standing on a chair is for. "You can, if you want. I'm staying right /here/." Where he can observe and keep his pretty face away from fists! "But don't hang back on /my/ account." Z'ian has a really difficult time keeping K'del back when he gets that kick of strength and energy into his blood. And of all the people throwing punches around them suddenly, the person that lands a solid crack to the side of his face somehow? K'del. It's an inarticulate sound that comes from deep within the bronzerider's throat and it looks like he might just want to shake the other man just then. Luckily, Kaeden shows up at that moment. "Help me get him out. Out to the bowl." He tells the candidate through his teeth, a livid red mark already beginning to form on the side of his jaw. He stops K'del from sinking completely but the extra help isn't going to hurt. The brush of an arm surging past is enough to knock Vienne off balance. Kaeden thinks he's out of his league? Trying being a midget of a girl. The tangle of extra bodies all reaching in and pulling at one another has her caught in the middle and, whatever intention she had in trying to reach H'kon, now what chance she has to glance at him is just pleading for help. She takes a good elbow to the side of the head and her arms come up to try to shield any further blows as she's jostled about. Needless to say, Vienne does not have much in the way of fightin' skills. "Wait-" is the most H'kon can get out as riders start to rush in. Then it's attempts at dodging, shoving back, keeping balance. "Vienne," is an attempt to help his would-be friend... just before his height proves to put his face right about at the height of one of his own wingmate's flailing elbows. Right in the nose. It's only then that Arekoth lets out his high shriek of a roar, while his rider attempts to back out with only a vague grab for Vienne as he backpedals. Oh, for fuck's sake. Really? Brieli is nearly in range of the whole argument when it becomes a brawl, and her expression is clear - the first, then a faintly regretful moment. Maybe she should have said something. That is, until a wayward fist has her dodging back more quickly and nimbly than she might be thought capable of, though perhaps only Alida is in the position to notice it, watch the goldrider jump back. Looking at the girl dubiously, guard or no, hand at the small of her back again, "I won't explain to your holder why one of my riders broke your arm, before the hatching, no less. But... the brownrider, the bluerider." H'kon and Vienne aren't doing so well, they shouldn't mind a candidate helping out, right? Right?! After a pause, "We'll see after that. The dragons..." Hopefully. Gaze unfocused, that's where her attention's gone. The woman's got *training*, really. But yes, Alida does have quite a set on her, and she's more-than-willing to utilize both. To Brieli's words of worrying her Holder, Alida clips off a little darkly, "Doesn't matter..." the young woman then padding over on cat-light feet to Vienne and H'kon, and positioning herself like a wall of whoopass in front of them. Protecting like a loyal german shepard. Faranth help anyone who purposely or even accidentally tries to go through her. The candidate stands ready on the balls of her booted feet, arms akimbo, her whole posture readied, alert. K'del may not even be entirely aware of what he's done to Z'ian; honestly, he seems barely aware of either Kaeden or the other bronzerider. Being limp doesn't seem to have stopped his rage, though: they can probably get him out of there relatively easily, but he won't go quietly. "Murderer," he says, not quite yelling anymore, but intense and earnest. He believes. "Murderer!" The wave that's been held back until now is released with the forces of thousands of tons of seawater, washing over the Weyr and dragging them below, leaning on them with the underwater weight she rarely uses, underscored by distant drums. Iesaryth is so, so sorry to punish the dragons for their riders misbehavior, but sometimes it's just the quickest way between point a and point b. Point b being, all their riders NOT FIGHTING ANYMORE THANKS BACK TO YOUR CORNERS SHOW'S OVER. She's not happy. (Iesaryth to all High Reaches dragons) Kaeden has a low, quick "Right" in reply to Z'ian as he finishes a grab for K'del. Maybe between the two of them, they can get the ex-Weyrleader aimed for the bowl. He raises his arm suddenly to block a backswing that intersects his forearm rather than his chin, and when he has a chance to look over K'del toward Z'ian, there just might be more white in his eyes than usual. "Sooner rather than later, right?" Kaed says just before wincing at K'del's repeated accusations. With a bit more repositioning, he gets a grip on the rider's waist. "Nah, nah, I... err... I'll stay back here and... um. Protect you! Yeah. That's right. I got your back, buddy!" Tiziano totally ruffles Ceawlin's hair all quick like, before looking back on the action. "You're my best friend, after all!" Whether he LIKES IT OR NOT. "If'n Kaeden gets hurt, let's totally tell him we had his back." Even though they don't. "And he just didn't see us in the chaos." Self preservation instincts. Tiziano has them. He winces for those in the melee as fists and elbows meet faces. Iesaryth's seawater deluges over Cadejoth's chains, squashing them flat. The bronze goes quite still: he's no longer prancing so high above the bowl, but laying low there, his low keen one of frustration, but no longer anger - his anger is ebbing away with the tide. So mote it be. (Cadejoth to all High Reaches dragons) Tiziano is sooooooo lucky that Ceawlin's gotten himself distracted for a moment, for that hair ruffle would be DEATH otherwise. What distracted the harper? Murderer. Interesting. Tiz's self preservation instincts totally earn him two points back up from his 100 point fall in Ceawlin's esteem with the hair ruffle. "Sounds like a plan." Stan. Anyway, distracted boy is distracted! "Damn it." Z'ian's hand comes up and goes neatly over K'del's mouth. That's quite enough murder talk for one breakfast today, thank you very much. "Yes, sooner than later. Much sooner." With the help of the younger man, they'll begin hauling the inconsolable, rageful bronzerider out of the living cavern and to the bowl. A few Avalanche and Boreal riders join along, keeping them relatively out of the fray except for the few that attempt to stop them out of a misguided sense of loyalty. Without real direct interference, they should make it. With H'kon's vague grab catching Vienne around the wrist, his backward scurry does the oh-so-helpful task of lurching her forward and rather than nimbly follow him out of the fray, she loses her footing. With her hands snagging desperately at his arm, she only gets stepped on a little, someone's boot coming down on her foot and someone else's sidestep knocking her hard in the leg before she can get her other foot under herself and shove herself toward the brownrider. At which point, a glance over her shoulder has her grateful for the barrier of Alida, even if there's no chance for her to show it. H'kon's low centre of gravity is probably the only reason he manages to keep his footing at all once Vienne's fallen into him, though it's hardly a graceful thing. Skidding, shuffling, he manages to keep hold of her and back them away from the fray. Alida's bodily barricade does, surely, help. More so, maybe, the draconic influence that has slowed the brawl so quickly as it started, Iesaryth's reach managing its way to the other dragons, and through them, their riders. H'kon still won't let go of Vienne until he's certain they're out of range. He's pulling for the bowl, where Arekoth waits, just slightly farther away from the entrance than he was a moment ago. K'del's words are effectively muffled by Z'ian's hand, and to that end, it's not so difficult to get him safely out there without further disruption. Surprisingly, he doesn't even seem to be aware that H'kon is also making for the bowl-- once outside, the cold air seems to more or less calm him, leaving him only a shivering wreck, doubled over, all snot and tears and gasping breaths. Show's over. The damage... well. That's already done. Every second of this scuffle is a pinpoint of martial joy for Alida, the guard focused and balanced on her own knife's edge...a strange little hint of an odd smile just ghosting her lips, her eyes cool and watchful. Glancing around quickly, she notices her charges moving off to seperate themselves, and the young woman retreats with them in careful backings of springy feet, making sure their exit is covered from a frontal assault. Once she's sure the combatants have left the arena, so to speak, Brieli has a few choice words for everyone who felt the great need to jump into a situation that required no further help - but beyond that, the damage is indeed done, as the kitchen staff hurries to clean up all that went awry near the serving tables during the fight so things are still prepared for lunch, and a whole lot of people suddenly feel the need to linger over breakfast, or move on to their next duties with a quickness. It'll be all over the caverns in less than twenty minutes. To all High Reaches dragons, Arekoth's atmosphere is flooded; all left underneath is a knot of tension that the queen's pressure won't relieve him of. He gives some space before the bowl, and studiously does not look to Cadejoth. But even Iesaryth's influence won't keep him from issuing a low reminder, as he sees Cadejoth's coming from the caverns, of « We are of High Reaches. » And all that implies. There's no reply from Cadejoth, though he's certainly keeping a close watch on the bowl. Just in case. You never know if you can trust these browns. (Cadejoth to all High Reaches dragons) Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries. Wind, rain, and snow combine to make for miserable, sleety weather today. The sudden difference from living cavern to bowl is felt on several levels. The most immediate is the pelting of sleety snow and wind, making Kaeden give a full body wince. As K'del calms, the candidate lets his grip loosen, though he still keeps one hand on the rider as he looks questioningly to Z'ian, waiting for whatever comes next. His attention then goes back to the hunched over rider, sympathy and bewilderment battling for priority. He raises a hand to wipe precipitation off his face and looks around the bowl, only then noticing they weren't the only ones to make an exit. This would be a lot more bearable if Z'ian had been allowed the chance to put his jacket back on. But that's lost somewhere in the shuffle of the breakfast brawl, with any luck someone picked it up for him. The crack to his face from K'del has picked up some color already and he takes his hand off of the bronzerider's mouth so he can rub at it. His expression is impassive when it's not looking damn sorry for the man hunched over on the ground. He lets his friend go of the bear hug, but he's still keeping one hand on his shoulder. As people stream out of the living cavern, he gives Kaeden a quick shake of his head. "Thanks. Stay for a few minutes." His eyes scan the people. Absently, "What's your name?" Vienne is not particularly good at making H'kon's escape any quicker, having picked up a bit of a limp. While her eyes dart anxiously around -- whether just to see where everyone has ended up or in fear of more elbows swinging at her head -- she stays cleaved to H'kon, using him for balance as her unsteady feet stumble along after him. As they make their way outside, she takes a deep breath of the cold wet winter air, blinking the mixed percipitation from her eyes without really registering it. Surely she can't be blamed for trembling a little. A sideway glance at the pile of men that is Kaeden, Z'ian and K'del makes her grip on the brownrider tighten. The bearers of K'del, and their charge, had a head start, and even without Vienne, chances are H'kon would be in no rush to catch up. He gives a hard look when he recognises the two bronzeriders (Kaeden is less familiar to him), but it stays on them only a moment. "Arekoth," is the first thing spoken, a checking tone that has the brown, whose wings have yet to still, held at bay. His arm is firmly Vienne's, and he only notices it after a good while of speaking to his lifemate. "Are you hurt?" Probably the first he's noticed of her limp, too. K'del crouches, pressing one bare hand to the snow, seemingly oblivious to the cold except for the way he shivers-- and that might well be adreneline. Now that he has his mouth back again, he's started talking, but there's no more yelling. "He had her pendant," he says, low-toned. "Iolene's. The one I gave her. Azaylia found it on his ledge. He had to have known. She had it the day before she died. There's no reason for him to have it unless he was involved. He's getting away with murder. He's getting away with it." That he promptly throws up on the ground right after saying all that is-- well. It just is. At least it makes sure he doesn't glance up, doesn't see Arekoth or H'kon. The candidate with the bronzeriders is quick to nod his assent to Z'ian as he watches the riders and fellow candidate who have also made their ways outside. "Kaeden," he answers quietly before looking from Z'ian to K'del once more. When the latter starts to speak, the candidate crouches down to listen, balancing on the balls of his feet despite the slick snow now covering the bowl. He has nothing to say to the rider, but to his credit, he doesn't move when K'del loses his breakfast. "Sorry for the circumstances. Z'ian." Makeshift introductions done, he's catching sight of H'kon across the way with Vienne. That he notices the limp the bluerider is sporting is obvious in the way he presses his lips together. It's just then that the other bronzerider is beginning to talk again, so he ends up crouching on the ground next to him. His arm ends up around his shoulder and some of K'del's vomit ends up on his boots. He rolls his eyes up to the sky before dropping them again. "No." It's not unkind, but it's firm. "You don't know that for sure. She may have found it there but it doesn't mean he left it there." It might be useless to try and reason with him now, but he tries anyway. "Someone else could have dropped it there to be found. To cast guilt away. To put it on H'kon. Think." Please. The underlying tone is please. Vienne's eyes are stuck on K'del, so she might not notice H'kon's delay while he speaks with his lifemate. The bluerider just stares at the muttering, vomitting man even as she twists to huddle against H'kon for protection from the snowy, rainy sleet if not also the ghosts of violent bodies. It takes a moment for his question to sink in, for her eyes to tear away from K'del, crouched in the snow, and she blinks at her similarly short companion as if she's suddenly surprised that she's not looking all the way up like she normally does. "No," she breathes out, even though there's a bit of bruising bleeding out from her hairline onto her cheek, even if other people have noticed her limp on the way out. "Are you?" Hurt? But her gaze is drawn back to the bronzerider. "He can't help it." It's some sort of apology or explanation on K'del's behalf. H'kon reaches the back of a bare hand up to his nose, blinking almost in surprise at not finding blood there. He gives a sniff, nonetheless, before he nods. "I am- fine." The last comes with a pointed look to his dragon. Arekoth withdraws further, and even, after a time, stops staring at K'del. Even though he really, really wants to. "It will be what it will be," is all sorts of gloomy. His jaw squares, and he looks broodily toward the ground, pointedly not to K'del. And tries to direct their path a bit wide of that whole group. Nobody currently here is more dispassionate than Alida, her place of utter self-control and calm amidst a stormy sea reached, held. Cool greens notice K'del's tossing his cookies, Kaeden's measured response to Z'ian, Z'ian's words of the pendant. A small nod of agreement with the bronzerider transitions into another hawkish look all about by the candidate as the bronzer pleads with his buddy, 'lida hearing Vienne, perhaps even scenting just the faintest hint of the metallic smell of blood about her. Not a single word emerges from the guard, her input not needed at this point. Only her calling exists right now, the urge - no, the *need* - to defend with every iota of her being. With H'kon's movement comes her own, a smooth retreat in that larger arc taken by the brownrider echoed by the woman. K'del spits out some extra vomit, as if to try and clear the taste out of his mouth, before he answers Z'ian. "No," he says, equally firm, and sounding serious, and surprisingly calm... and somehow, desperately sad. "They searched his weyr, before. I'kris couldn't have put it there afterwards, and he's the only other one who could have had it. Nothing else makes sense." There's a long pause, before he adds, without glancing up at either of his companions, "Wanted to hurt him. Never wanted something so much." It's not his fault he glances up right then, catching sight of H'kon for the first time. His gaze narrows - but at least he doesn't move. Kaeden can only watch and listen, as there's very little input he could possibly offer. When K'del starts to speak again, Kaeden eases back up to his feet. And maybe edges a centimeter away from that puke puddle. He swallows hard, a deep frown on his face, then he finally speaks up, dark eyes focused on... possibly the two riders' knots. "When you don't have all the pieces to a puzzle, your head fills them in. Just... something to think about," he finishes, if a little lamely. "No." That pleading is still there as Z'ian tries to puncture through the veil of grief. To the sense that he's hoping is still there. "And what, K'del? He's been walking around with it? Why? Does that make sense, does that sound like H'kon?" He shakes his head slowly, swallowing as he glances up to track the other group. "Why couldn't it be someone else not involved in her death that dropped it there just to fuck with you? Look what finding it did to you." He exhales long and slow at the other rider's last and tightens his grip around his friend's shoulder. It's not to restrict him, he just understands. And he releases him, for better or worse. Kaeden is speaking and Z'ian looks up at him, considering. His nod is slow, agreeable. "Think about it." H'kon's gloomy words have Vienne blinking back at him again, this time her eyes taking a clearer study of his face, sympathy in her gaze as she hunts for signs of damage, physical or otherwise. She draws in another deep breath and its released in a soft murmur that no doubts hopes to drown out some of the accusations that are oozing out of K'del, despite how quiet her words might be. "I'm so sorry. I can't..." But whatever she can't do, she doesn't say. Once he starts to nudge them further away, she's limping again, then wincing as she tries not to -- which she does nearly manage. "You should get out of here." This time Alida does seek to be noticed, but not intrusively. H'kon and Vienne both get silently questioning glances: 'do you need my services any further?' "And you should get to the infirmary," H'kon answers her, having had time, by now, to have inspected her limping - or attempts at not doing so - somewhat further. A flattened look is sent to K'del, with little attention paid to his escort. H'kon is frowning again by the time he's focused once more on the bluerider. "I can at least see you there," comes in a monotone. That candidate only gets a look when she makes herself more known. And Alida gets a shake of his head, at lesat. K'del just shakes his head, over and over again, though he never takes his eyes off H'kon, and doesn't so much as blink when he meets the brownrider's gaze, however briefly. Swallowing back bile, he promises, "Won't try and hit him again. Won't do anything. But I know." Apparently, right now, that's enough for the bronzerider, who finally breaks his gaze from H'kon, glancing from Z'ian to Kaeden, then back again. "Thank you." Beat. "Didn't mean to hit you, Z'ian. I should--" He lifts his hand from the freezing ground, tucking it beneath one armpit, shivering. "Go." "You know there's a new piece," Kaeden insists. Hey, if K'del doesn't want to be called "sir", it's easier not to treat him like a "sir", too. He lets the comment stand alone, though, having no really idea what the other pieces might be. Instead, his attention goes back to Z'ian, who gets a, "Sir?" before he quickly glances at Alida, H'kon, and Vienne. Unable to entirely decipher what might be going on with them from this distance, though, he continues a beat later, "Still need me to stay? Otherwise, might still be some clean-up to be done," Kaed finishes, pointing a thumb back toward the living cavern. Z'ian takes a breath and then just lets it go. Falling silent now, he remains crouched there besides him as he works on getting to his feet. K'del knows what he knows or thinks that he knows anyway, it won't be solved right now. As for that developing mark on his face, the bronzerider just shrugs his shoulders. "Don't worry about it. Anytime." Despite the lack of smiling, there's a certain sense of grim humor beneath the words. "Later?" is directed at K'del. Probably alluding to a conversation to be held later. He doesn't stop him from going. Glancing up again at the candidate, "No, I think we're alright here. Thanks for everything, Kaeden." It's not until H'kon looks to Alida that Vienne seems to actually realize she's had a distant protector all this time. She glances over her shoulder at the candidate, bidding her a quiet, "Thank you," for her part in ensuring their safe retreat. And as her eyes skim back toward K'del, the hitch in her step has nothing to do with the limp. Another shiver catches her, as Z'ian isn't the only to leave a jacket behind. Her shoulders hunched against the sleet, she submits to H'kon's urging and gives him a sorry little nod. Infirmary it is. "It's not bad," she tries to insist, plodding one boot after the other, but she'll allow him to lead her anyway, and take advantage of what help he can offer. A formal bob of Alida's head greets H'kon's shake of his own, the woman then shifting her gaze to Vienne, as Brieli's former words made the bluerider part of the package deal. Apparently the candidate takes her work very seriously, indeed: only with their own purposeful 'okays' will the young woman cease her duties. Those, and her own critical assessment of the situation, of course. "Welcome..." is murmured off to Vienne's thanks, the woman sketching a quick salute to the pair before turning her rather dirty self around...and honestly taking in the whole scene around her for a long moment. Of course, with the reatreat of adrenaline comes the feeling of the cold and snow all about her, and the palest-blonde woman gives a sudden shiver. Still, she's cautious, and turns greens to post-barfing K'del and the other two guys, raised brows again silently inquiring if they want any help. K'del gives Kaeden a long, studious glance when he speaks again, but there's nonetheless no indication that he's really comprehending what the candidate is trying to say. In the end, he shakes his head again, rising unsteadily towards his feet. "Later," he confirms to Z'ian, wearily, running cold hands through his hair. "Later." Both of his helpers get one last glance, and then he turns to leave-- heading off towards the caverns, albeit in a different direction to Vienne and H'kon. Thankfully. In doing so, he quite misses Alida's glance-- clearly, his thoughts are still elsewhere. It's on the tip of Kaeden's tongue to say something like, Nice meeting you, but this doesn't seem the right situation for that, so he closes his mouth again and just nods to Z'ian. He's caught by a sudden shiver, as standing and crouching in windy and sleet and snow isn't exactly good for one's body heat. Icy water is again wiped from his face before he takes a step back, still careful of the vomit getting watery on the ground. "I'll go get a mop," he states in a low voice before adding a quieter, "Good luck," that could be meant for either of them. As he turns, he catches Alida watching them, and sends her an inquiring nod toward the caverns to see if she wants to come along. Then, companion or no, he wraps his arms around himself and starts for the entrance. It is cold and the side of Z'ian's face hurts. He rubs his hands on the sides of his arms and slowly gets to his feet again, wiping the vomit on his boots off into the snow. Kaeden's given a curious glance for wanting to mop up the stuff that's there on the bowl floor, but whose he to argue and stop him? His eyes track after K'del's departure with a sober expression. Alida passes him and he gives the young woman a quick shake of his head, eventually finding his way back to the living cavern himself. Hopefully his jacket didn't get swiped. It's with K'del's retreat and Z'ian's negative on her offer than Alida nods to Kaeden, and trails him back inside. Best to get back to work immediately, given how chilled she is. This puts her almost side-by-side with Z'ian, who's offered the rare 'treat' of her voice mumbling something low to him. Hey, who wants to leave vomit where it could be tracked into the caverns? Kaeden's just falling back on old habits, really. Ever seen passengers debark a ship after a storm? Ugly. "Always something new around this place, huh?" Kaed asks Alida before disappearing back inside. "And we actually want to stay. Feels a little crazy." If there is further dialogue after that, it's lost when they leave the bowl behind. A dark chuff of humor presages Alida's spare, "No shit..." reply to Kaeden as they trail back inside where it's WARM. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:The Great Breakfast Brawl"Jolie (Jolie (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 08 Mar 2013 02:24:39 GMT.
This was a pretty quick fight. I loved the peanut gallery in this. XD H'kon was truly H'kon in this scene!
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 08 Mar 2013 03:07:39 GMT.
YOU PEOPLE RUINED SOME NPCs BREAKFAST. I JUST KNOW IT. You should all be ashamed.
I believe it when you guys said how fun the scene was. It was really fun to read, after all.
H'kon might be vaguely ashamed...
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