Logs:Those Private Things
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| RL Date: 12 June, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, Keysi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Keysi happens upon the "hidden secrets" of her weyr and runs into the just the right person while getting rid of them. |
| Where: Rider's Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: I'zech/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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>---< Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr(#1803RJ) >---------------------------<
About as high up the bowl wall as it is possible to get before hitting
clear sky, right up against the rim, this ledge is tiny, narrow and not
terribly inviting. Though angled towards the sun, there's not enough room
to properly stretch out, and that same angle ensures it receives the worst
of bad weather, with no shelter whatsoever. From above, there's not even
an obvious passage inside, as if this particular ledge is, in the end,
nothing more than a natural outcropping. It's only from atop the ledge
itself that the cleverly concealed entrance becomes clear, angled into the
stone as it is.
Inside, there's a cavernous space, more than making up for the stinginess
of the ledge. There's one large main room, and a much smaller back room
that could probably be used as a bedroom - if this weyr were in
traditional usage. Instead, the main cavern is largely filled with a
collection of mismatched tables and chairs. Towards the back, there's a
bar made out of old, recycled wood, manned during peak hours; there's
plenty of alcohol on display behind it, though most of it tends towards
the cheaper end of the range. Old, but still impressive, hangings cover
the walls, all depicting scenes of High Reaches in glory. The back room
has been turned into a storage area, with several cases of whisky and a
variety of other spirits ready and waiting.
A strange pipe contraption comes through the ceiling and towards the stone
floor, where a large bucket sits beneath it. A lever turns on water from
the pipe: fresh rain or snow, ready for drinking. She certainly didn't want those in what is now her weyr for any longer than the moment she found them. From the trap door under the rug which Telavi helped her move out of the weyr which Keysi noticed upon her return with a replacement rug of less outrageous colorations, she most definitely did not expect to find depictions of female riders in clothing (or lack there of) and positions far unsuited for the eyes of children. Why she had Neianth take her up to the rider's lounge, she didn't even know. Where else sould she take these things? Wrapped in layers hides, stuffed in a satchel and further stuffed into the brown's saddlebags, she hesitates even knowing the security of layers to drag them out. But Keysi does manage to pull the satchel over her shoulder, a rigidity about her as if there's a tunnelsnake coiled within it, knuckles white on the straps. Her face is neutral but noticably on-edge as her gaze crosses the room to see which riders linger within. Should she just leave them here? She certainly couldn't give them to anyone! K'del doesn't spend a great deal of time up at the Lounge these days-- he's too busy, really-- but today is an exception that finds him nursing a drink at a table off by himself. It's too early in the day for the place to be too busy, which makes that easier; it makes it easier, too, for him to catch sight of Keysi as she enters. It's her expression that draws him, surprised obvious, and one hand raises as a result: hello. Something in her melts slightly. But not the good kind of melting, no. If she wasn't so pale, maybe the melting would be the color from her face, but her skin is far too used to northern climates and heavy layers to have that much color to lose. Despite all the excitement Keysi had shown upon seeing K'del the past few times on seeing him amidst weyrlinghood- granted her excitement is as reserved as the rest of her- it's absent now. In fact, she sharding looks near well like she's about to turn tail and run. So far from her comfort zone is she, that when she pivots to do that very thing, the bag on her shoulder slips down her arm. She fumbles, and Keysi doesn't fumble, to collect it back up but the effort upturns the whole thing. Hides hit the floor, partially unwrapping, scattering. A harsh word leaves her lips, though hissed through her teeth too low to hear, but obviously some sort of explative. This is all-- weird. Wrong. K'del sets down his glass and rises in his chair, brows knitting in confusion and concern. And then... then the hides hit the floor, and his gaze drops towards them, though there's no sign that he's aware of what they are, even partially unwrapped. He steps forward, aiming to lean down to start collecting them and, as he does so, "Is... everything all right? Keysi?" Keysi freezes when K'del gets up to help her, one hand hovering over a partially unveiled image, the other poised over the satchel with flap opened. "Sir." It comes out a lot harsher, a lot more pointed than her voice usually achieves. "Yes.. yes of course. I'm just," She fails to muster a white lie in the midst of embarrassment and the excuse goes incompleted. Keysi stands, taking a step or two back after frozen limbs release her, as if space between him is a requirement. "I found a few things in my weyr that I was trying to find a better place for." Honesty works a lot better coming from her mouth, grey eyes watching K'del with a steely reserve if only because looking down would mean looking at the mess and seeing a leg or ... other body part. Throat dry, words hollow, "here was a compartment in the floor. Did you-" Even more of an awkward pause, her fingers even whiter as they curl into her palms, "Know about the spaces?" Oh look. Someting... else. Something... a long way from here. K'del's expression has gone blank, but his cheeks? His cheeks are scarlet. And slowly, now, in preference to looking at Keysi, his gaze drops towards the hides, and what he can now see rather more clearly. "I-- fuck." That would be a 'yes,' then, though it is hastily followed up with, very quietly, "A lot of it was there when I moved in. Found it early on. But..." But he wouldn't be this embarrassed if some of it wasn't his own addition, presumably. "I'll take it. I'm sorry, Keysi." "K'del.." Keysi utters his name before she can chastise herself for using it, "Sir." She corrects almost instantly even if this is a more than not-official circumstance. "They are yours?" Although her words don't fluctuate, her usual unquestionable control reaching to steady them, the disbelief catching her breath punctuates and elongates that question. "I thought they were I'zech's." Comes next, rushed. Certainly not the weyrleader's. "You.." She finds some sort of resolution despite even her cheeks finding color to pigment them, her eyes staring dutifully at a chair next them because it's certainly just that interesting. "You don't need to take them. I can get rid of them." As if it's an imperative job to be done. "No, no, I can--" K'del breaks off, taking a deep breath. "Moved into that weyr when I was sixteen," is what he says, next. "Found the original stash then. Added to it, because..." Sixteen. Male. "And left it there, when Cadejoth caught Iovniath. Guess it may've been through a few hands since then, but at one point it was mine. Doesn't mean it needed to stay, or should've stayed, not really. So no: I will take it, and dispose of it all. I am sorry." He's reaching, now, to try and gather up the pages, to bundle them together so that they're no longer showing anything of concern. Keysi appears to want to do something, whether that be stopping him from picking up the hides and pictures or turn around and leave, it can't be certain since she acts on neither. "You will dispose of everything?" Is asked in a need of confirmation, pointing still at her youth despite how far she's come. But she finally takes a breath and exhales sharply with the realization that she knows better than to ask something so personal. "I didn't think-" Disbelief is heavy. Naivity is hard when one's been so preoccupied as her, "I didn't mean to-" Frustration clears the hint of color from her face as she stabilizes somewhat, "I did not mean to bring these to your attention. I did not expect you to be up here. I am sorry weyrleader." She's still unable to look at him, her eyes narrowed in her off-set stare. K'del stops, abandoning the pages so that he can focus his attention on Keysi herself. "Keysi," he begins. "Deep breath. Don't-- worry about it. I'm sorry that it upset you. You have nothing to apologise for. Yes, I'll dispose of it. Completely. If you like, we can feed it all into the hearth up here, piece by piece, and be done with it. And--" He pauses, hesitating over his words as if he's not quite sure how to phrase it. "Are you okay? Honestly? With..." This. Something. Anything. "It is just that it is-" You. But she can't bring herself to say that. Faranth forbid she ever did. Keysi's rigid stance is unforgiving, but she finally stops staring at that chair. Slowly, storm-grey eyes return to study the weyrleader. Careful indeed to stay focused above the floor. "Of course I am fine." She could be expected to say nothing else. Her expression is neutral and ungiving if that's the truth or not, but her stance gives away uneasiness. "You would feed them into the hearth? Don't they have some significance to you?" Distancing herself, words seem somewhat easier to get out, though the intensity of her gaze puts a lot of weight on her questions. "Now?" K'del's gaze drops, just for a moment, towards the hides. "No, not now. Once... yes." His cheeks have turned faintly pink again, but far less than the intense red of earlier. "That was nearly twenty turns ago. They've not been mine for a very long time, and now... no." His words are quiet, and deliberately honest; he studies Keysi, but if he's drawn conclusions from what little emotion she shares, there's no sign of it in his expression. "Guess I just grew up, somewhere along the line. Or... rather, because there's nothing wrong with those things, it's just that my interests moved on." His honesty seems to serve as a reminder, and the strangeness in the girl slowly dissipates. Keysi's gaze drops too, her fingers relaxing from their imbedded positions in her palms. "I know there's nothing wrong with it. But I," With one fist forced open, she rubs the back her neck, "I know it's none of my business what you did or what you do with them." Her reaction however, becoming recollected and her tone even, denotes that it may not have been her business, but it certainly made the difference. "I didn't look at them." That's probably obvious, but a thing that apparently needs to be said. K'del's cheeks turn pink again. "I wouldn't mind if you had," he says, quietly. "They don't matter. They're--" But he stops, now gathering the entire pile up into his arms and moving to stand again. This time, his, "I'm sorry," is quieter and sadder, as if he's far more aware of something, at least. "I'll take them away. Pretend you never saw them, if you like. Or... I'm sorry." Keysi's eyes very slightly widen at that, though her surprise is retracted, buried, hidden beneath as many layers as rolls of hide as she'd tried to tuck the images in. "I wouldn't dare, sir. But you don't need to-" Apologize, but she stops herself from saying that too. The weyrling brownrider takes a single step towards K'del, reclaiming the distance she'd backed away at the start, but not quite willing to go farther with that big personal space bubble she claims. "I appreciate your... help." That word never sits well on her tongue, but in this instance it seems more than appropriate. "And.." All these words, so foreign to her, "for telling me." Her eyes are narrowed slightly, briefly falling away from K'del then back again, studying the flush of his face. "I won't tell anyone." K'del opens his mouth to say something, and then stops, shaking his head. "It's fine," he promises. "We're fine. Everything's fine. I'm--" Still, apparently, going to take up those hides and take his leave, though he adds, before going, "Won't ever lie to people. Not to you, and not to anyone. Truth's always better, no matter how embarrassing." He doesn't wait for an answer, and though he smiles, as he turns to go there's a suggestion in the line of his shoulders that he doesn't want to be interrupted: a mission, perhaps. Regardless... there's a wrapped package awaiting Keysi on her ledge following drills, the next day, and inside it is a fine-cut decanter, four glasses, and a bottle of wine, with a note: Guess I'd rather you have something better of mine, like wine from my own grapes. Happy weyr-warming. |
Comments
Edyis (03:05, 13 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
This was fantastically awkward!
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