Logs:Weathering The Storm
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 21 March, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh takes an opportunity to ask K'del every question imaginable. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Foggy. Damp. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Teris/Mentions, Prinavi/Mentions |
  |
>---< Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#273RJs) >-------------------------------<
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen
on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a
wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and
organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two
being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves,
while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and
inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public
stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination
is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items
neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of
their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept
floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves
providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though
there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from
the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky
dark of deep caves. The morning may be marked by fog and dampness outside, but the stores are blessedly dry and somewhat warm. It's quiet, unoccupied and-- there's a loud crash and a swear, and that's definitely a laundress standing amidst a collection of previously-clean linens that she's just knocked out off a shelf by accidentally jostling it. "Wonderful," Farideh sighs, closing her eyes as she takes a moment to collect herself. First, there's a handkerchief to pluck off her shoulder, before she bends down to start scooping up the mess; after that will come sorting, refolding, and putting them all away again. She looks appropriately annoyed by the delay in her duties. Immediately following that commotion is the sound of footsteps; within a matter of seconds, K'del's hovering at the entrance to that row of shelving, with one of his boots in hand, one foot in just a sock upon the cool stone floor. "Are you--" A pause, during which time it seems as though he's recognised Farideh, "Okay in here? Need a hand?" "What do you think? Did it sound like a pic--" The initial snippy tone is given before she turns around to see who is hovering in the doorway, and when Farideh does see who it is her lips close tightly and she looks mildly guilty. "I'm fine. I can do it on my own. You look--" Her eyes travel down to the bootless foot, noting the sock with eyebrows raised, before they flick back up to K'del's face. Amused, now, "Busy?" The snippiness draws a raised eyebrow from K'del; but then he softens, corners of his mouth turning up, gaze dropping from Farideh to his boot, and that socked foot. "'Busy,'" he supposes, wryly. "Stupid bootlace broke, and now today'll be yet another missed set of drills for me; no point showing up late." At least, now, his fingers resume detangling the broken lace, pieces tucked tidily into his pocket. "But as long as you're fine." "All over a boot," Farideh answers summarily, but there's a substantial amount of amusement in her voice. "I'm sure they'll understand." It's far from patronizing, perhaps optimistic of her. Thoughtfulness follows, her fingers dragging a nearby towel into her lap. "Can I ask you a question? And can you promise to answer it honestly?" Her eyes study his face after she asks, seeking that candidness that she's talking about or lack thereof. "For the want of a boot..." begins K'del, with a certain amount of amusement all of his own. Some of that fails, though, and leaves him more thoughtful-- more wary-- as Farideh continues. "That," he says, finally, "Kind of depends on what the question is. There's always things I can't answer, for one reason or another. But if I can, I'll certainly not lie to you. That good enough?" While K'del is wary, Farideh's regarding him openly, and his answer is given a slow nod that looks unsurprisingly like courteous acceptance. "It would be unwise of you to tell just anyone anything, right?" She shifts to sitting, cross-legged, and sets aside the towel she'd been fidgeting over in her lap so she can devote herself to staring up at the too-tall Weyrleader with childlike bewilderment. "Why aren't riders allowed to Search people from Igen, specifically?" It's not wholly unexpected, that, question-- surely-- and yet K'del's expression tightens, ever so slightly, as it arrives. Sighing, he drops to a crouch, boot set down in front of him as, having finished removing the old lace, he begins untangling the new one. "Igen doesn't want us to," is the answer that comes, simple enough. "Don't know their reasons, but... well. It's our clutch, even if they're taking some of it back. Searching Igenites, training them, and then sending them back... that's not building relations. That's setting people apart from each other." It's easier to stare, semi-open mouthed, when he's not looming over her. "Igen?" Farideh sounds dumbstruck by that. "They set that term? Why would they--" She worries at her lower lip and makes a thoughtful, 'hm' sound. "They don't want people from Igen." There's something there, some half-formed thought, and a lot of confusion, all mixed together. "Isn't it the same? What they're doing? Not allowing us to search there, that's setting people apart too, right?" She's frowning by the time she finishes. "We wouldn't normally Search at Igen," K'del points out, expression stiffer and sharper, now; he's uncomfortable with the reaction his explanation has caused. "We don't officially Search outside the Weyr, most of the times these days, even, and certainly not in someone else's coverage area. But-- you've seen how people've reacted to the whole situation. People get upset; they start deliberately Searching at Igen, bringing back all the candidates they can. And suddenly, suddenly we've maybe a whole clutch of Igenites who want to return home. Or who want to stay here, and thus aren't available to stand for Igen's next clutch." The laundress might not notice that her reaction has made K'del uncomfortable, or she simply ignores it and continues forward with that same, questioning light in her eyes and curiosity in her voice. "But if you're there, for whatever reason - a vacation, a gather, for family - and your dragon finds someone. Why shouldn't it be appropriate to bring them back? Isn't that how it works? What if you're not bringing them back to the Weyr is stopping them from Impressing the dragon they're supposed to?" Farideh sighs and shakes her head unhappily. "Even without Searching at Igen, everyone still blames them, blames Irianke, you know," and she sounds miserable about it. K'del is silent throughout that outburst; silent even after it has finished. He's forgotten his boot, still mostly unlaced; it sits there, abandoned, as he watches Farideh, blue eyes trained upon her unmoving. "They blame me too," he says, calmly, managing - for the moment - not to sound bitter about it. "Or is that acceptable? Blame K'del, because he was willing to make a few sacrifices for the betterment of the Weyr." "You?" Farideh's eyes widen and her chin lowers; she's somewhat cowed by the Weyrleader's admission. "I-- suppose. Everyone is upset about something, and it's easy to blame Irianke, or you, or Azaylia, and even H'vier. Even if it doesn't affect them directly." She scrunches up her nose, "I don't blame any of you. I hear that Nimae is a shrewd negotiator, but-- you both get something about of it? They'll get over it, eventually--" Except she doesn't sound too optimistic now. Now, finally, K'del reaches for his boot again. "Blame is one of the easiest things in the world," he says. "That's why we do it. Doesn't make it fair, or right, or true; it just is." His chin drops, however, into the shortest of nods. "Nimae got what she wanted. And we-- we get an experienced junior to support and assist Azaylia, and a new queen to come, given the look of that egg. It's not going to be easy; honestly, I do feel for those few who'll end up back at Igen. It's my hope that some will be glad to go, to experience something new. But... in the end, when you accept Search, you accept giving up full control over your life. It's time we reminded people of that." Only at the end does Farideh say anything, and that a simple: "Was it worth it? For you? To give up everything? For this?" This life, this dragon, this Weyrleader, this job, and whatever else he wants to lump into that category. The question surprises K'del into silence. "Yes," he says, after several long moments. The answer is sure, at least. "Can't imagine life any other way. Life without Cadejoth..." he shakes his head. "Can't think there'd be many dragonriders who regret it." Again, Farideh is quiet until he finishes, and follows her last questions with a few more. "What was your life like before Cadejoth? Did you enjoy it? Where do you think you'd be, now, if not a rider?" She's genuinely curious, and a good listener, in this moment. K'del sucks in a breath looking, for a moment, as though he intends to put a stop to the questioning; but then he shakes his head, shrugs, and answers all the same. "Worked as a handyman, here. Not a very good one. I was determined to make something of myself, to be something none of my brothers-- I've six of them, all older-- was. Accepting Search was the most obvious thing in the world, for me. If it hadn't've happened..." He shakes his head. "I've no idea. For a kid with a lot of ambition, I didn't have a lot of solid ideas." It seems as though she's disappointed by the answer. "How do you make that decision? To give up everything before to become someone new, possibly? It's a big-- a very big-- thing. They just say yes without a second thought, to this new life that they might lead. It's--" Farideh looks up. "Scary." The wryness in K'del's expression acknowledges the uselessness of his particular answer. Moreover, there's some quiet self-deprecation in the way he says, running fingers through his hair, "Most people don't think that far ahead; myself included. It's-- people get caught up in the romance of it. And you're right: it is scary. Ought to be a big decision, one of the most important you can ever make. You can't change your mind, after you've Impressed. But then... like I said, most people can't imagine wanting to." "That's a lot of think about." Farideh's mouth draws into a thin line and she reaches for that towel she tossed aside before. "I can't imagine it's easy finding candidates, after--" The Igen thing is left unspoken, and she lifts her shoulders in an indifferent shrug. "I'm sorry, but--" Her eyes flick to K'del's face. "I wouldn't want to be you right now. Without the boot issues." K'del lets out a little sniff of amusement; an exhale, light and only slightly bitter. "Not everyone feels about it as strongly as--" Some people. He's not going to name names. "But, no. It's not ideal. Not sure I want to be me right now. Sometimes, anyway." His boot is re-laced - he moves, now, to put it back on. "Turns back, there was a clutch no one thought would actually hatch. People still Stood for it, though. Things... work out." "You can always pretend to be someone else? Wear a hat, put on a bulky outfit, and call yourself something else. You know," Farideh's lips quirk with suppressed laughter, "Igen is the perfect place to hide, with the scarves and clothing." She presses the knuckles of one hand against her mouth to try and wipe away her humor, and that leaves curious eyes to squint at K'del. "Why didn't they think it would hatch? Was something wrong with the eggs?" The idea amuses K'del, though he lets it go in order to answer that second question. "Iskiveth," and yes, there's a twitch of something akin to-- not grief but certainly nostalgia, perhaps-- as he says that name. "She chewed firestone, as a weyrling. There was serious concern that she wouldn't clutch, and then, when she did..." "Iskiveth," Farideh murmurs. "That-- oh." Her cheeks reddened and she chooses to look elsewhere, in light of the recent-ish grief thereabouts after the Telgari woman's death. "They hatched, though. Were they all alright?" It's a little awkward. K'del manages-- more or less-- to push past it, focusing instead on: "Oh yes. And she clutched any number of times after that. Produced Telgar's senior queen, even. So... no damage done, in the end. But people were afraid, anyway. So. Things will work out." Sounding confident is the same as being confident, right? "What's the saying." Farideh puts her thinking face on and purses her lips. "You've weathered a lot of storms? So, this is nothing?" Her eyebrows lift when she turns to stare at him again, and there, in her eyes, lingers more inquisitiveness, because she's obviously not asked enough questions today. For that, K'del has to genuinely laugh. "Sometimes feels like my entire life is one storm after another," he admits, without sounding too rueful. "Sometimes overlapping storms, at that. Not sure I'd say this is nothing, but... there's been worse. It'll work out. In the end, it's not as though I didn't chase the knot." "You want to be Weyrleader?" is dubiously spoken. "Your dragon didn't just-- chase and you--" Farideh gestures vaguely and then reddens again. Not that kind of gesture, okay!? But it's enough to cause her to blush and make a face. "You like having hundreds of people to look after? Why?" K'del's brows raise ever so slightly, for that blush, though he's an awkward expression of his own to match. "Because it's a job I can do. Because... part of me will always feel responsible for this Weyr. Because I get satisfaction out of it." A lot of reasons, then, and all of them faintly uncertain, given the way he says them. "Wasn't after the knot when we first won it, way back when. Not yet, anyway. But since then... just seems like I can't walk away. It matters." Luckily, no one's come by yet to see the Weyrleader and a laundress having political talk on the floor of the stores. "Couldn't you be a wingleader, or a second? Or the weyrlingmaster? And feel the same?" Farideh pauses, barely switching from embarrassment back into inquisitiveness. "You don't think anyone else could do it as well? Any of the other bronzeriders?" She's not insulting him exactly-- except she is, in that guileless, foot-in-mouth way. K'del hesitates; it rather looks as though he's working through his words very carefully before expressing them. "Spent some time as a Wingsecond," he says. "In between stints as Weyrleader. And I liked it; sure, I'd go back to that. But-- it's not that I think no one else could do it." Sort of. "But I care about the job. About the Weyr, most of all. So we'll chase in Hraedhyth's flights, win or lose, for the foreseeable future, and do the job as long as we win." "Ah," is all Farideh says, giving him side eye, "How politic of you." She's aware that he didn't answer her question, really. "I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Now you'll really be late for drills." On his behalf, she looks sulky, even as she holds the towel up to square and start to fold over onto itself, like a proper laundress should be doing; not asking the Weyrleader about his life story. K'del, though well aware that he's not made Farideh happy with his answer, nonetheless doesn't make any particular attempt to make up for it. Instead, his boot now properly back in place, he rises to his feet again. "Well, good," he says, edging towards awkward. "Have a good one--" He doesn't know her name, but his pause is only momentary. He turns, instead, to leave. Flee! |
Comments
Edyis (04:22, 22 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
I always love Farideh's convictions, equally the patient role that K'del often plays. Guiding, but not a pushover.
Leave A Comment