[Log] Good Times
Who: K'del, Tiriana
When: Day 18, Month 2, Turn 19
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana and K'del, at it again.
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.
Contents:
K'del
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
It's late enough in the evening that the caverns have cleared out some, and what's left on the serving tables is probably less than fresh. That would make the leftovers on K'del's plate - long since abandoned to congealment - even /less/ fresh, and distinctly distasteful. The young rider is eating (or, rather, /ignoring/) his late dinner for the sake of a group of lower caverns girl giggling a few tables over; he's on his own, sipping at whatever it is in his mug, instead of actually consuming his food.
It's late, but some people are still going against the drift of people back out of the caverns: Tiriana is one of these, just now arriving. She picks through the food for the best portions left, then turns about to seek out a seat. There are plenty to choose from, which seems to make the task harder; but when her eyes settle on a familiar shock of hair, she pauses only half a second before she heads that way. "Evening," she tells K'del, settling in the chair opposite him with a broad, smug smile.
K'del's view of the giggling girls is obstructed by the arriving goldrider, so he lifts it to meet her face levelly, his eyebrows arching in exaggerated surprise. "Deigning to speak to the lowly bronzerider are we this evening?" he asks her, instead of returning the greeting, as he lets his mug return to the table in front of him. "Or-- no, you're looking smug. What is it you want to laugh at me about?"
"Not blocking your view, am I?" Tiriana wonders, glancing back over her shoulder in mockingly apologetic fashion. She does not move, however, and instead folds her hands in front of her, delaying the meal for a moment to continue looking serenely self-satisfied. "Deigning, maybe. Maybe I thought I could make my peace. Bury the hatchet, or whatever it is they say," she tells him, and finally picks up her fork to take a first bite. "After all, I heard congratulations were in order." And though she feigns interest in her meal, she shoots a sly look up at him again anyway.
K'del's cheeks go instantly pink at mention of congratulations, his smile thinning slightly. When he responds, however, his tone is mild. "Not at all, Tiriana. You simply replaced a decent view with something far lovelier; my thanks. As for burying the hatchet - well, that's very grown up of you, though the congratulations, I think, belong to Cadejoth." His hands cling rather tightly to his ceramic mug, though he doesn't move to drink from it again.
"I'm just sorry it took me so long to get to do it," Tiriana says, and at least she sounds sincere about that part, judging by her triumphant grin when he pinkens. "But you know how it is, busy with weyrwomanly things. And, well--yes, I'm sure Cadejoth flew amazingly, but really, it can't hurt when you and the greenrider are already so close." She's fishing, eyes continuing to track him while she eats; a parody of polite interest.
"Oh, I heard you were distinctly less busy these days, now that Satiet's gone off you," retorts K'del - though manages to look and sound almost genuine. Almost. If his lips have pursed just a little tighter, well, that's to be forgiven. "Actually, it had more to do with the fact that Yyth and Cadejoth are very close. P'ax and I merely get along. Still. Cadejoth's a good flier."
Point for K'del. That smirk just tightens, but Tiriana keeps it determinedly in place as she corrects, "I'm still busy, even if I'm not spending my days following along after her." Still, she's ticked enough about that jibe that she takes a few moments to eat in silence before she comes up with a suitable retort of her own, a wistful, "Still, it's too bad he's so sweet on that bitch of a green. Iovniath was very sad to hear all about it."
That point in his favour is enough to relax K'del just a little - enough, at least, that he leans back in his chair, and picks up his mug again to take a sip while she eats. "Of course you are," he agrees, soothingly. "No doubt it's equally important work, too." As his mug returns to the table, his lip twitches slightly, a reaction he can't quite control. "Well, you can't blame him, really. A man has his needs - and Iovniath is taking her sweet time."
"You better believe she is," snaps Tiriana, an instinctive response to his slight. But a beat, and a deep breath, later, she adds, "We're waiting for the right moment. The right bronze, too--just when she thinks she might have one picked out, he always has to go do something really dumb." She smirks, but her fork stabs her food rather sharply still. "Of course, Iovniath, she'd never actually /say/ any of this, but I know when she's hurt."
"Of course," says K'del, nodding his head in an admirable, if far from perfect, attempt to look sage. The girls he was staring at earlier depart, and to his credit (well, questionably, anyway) he doesn't so much as glance at them as they pass: aww, Tiriana has all his attention. "Far too regal, our Iovniath, to actually /say/ this kind of thing. Very convenient." Beat. "What'd you do, anyway, to get the Weyrwoman all pissed off at you?"
Tiriana shrugs. "She doesn't like people knowing what she's really thinking," she explains. "Makes it too easy. Lucky I'm here to clue you in, actually." And nonchalant, she takes another bite before that latter question has her scowling. "So how's it feel, having P'ax do you up the butt?" The hatchet has officially been dug up.
K'del opens his mouth to respond to the first of Tiriana's words, but ends up without any to actually say as she asks her question. Point to Tiriana. Flame-red, and clearly hopping mad, he makes soundless word-shapes for several seconds before he can actually get anything out. "I. Wouldn't. Know. /He's/ the greenrider."
"Oh," says Tiriana, like this enlightens her. "/Oh/, I thought that just mattered as far as the /dragons/ went. Sorry, my mistake." Pause. She's silent and smirky for just a second longer, one more bite of food. Then, "So. How's it feel, doing him? Any better?"
K'del keeps his voice low, though he can't keep the hiss out of it. "/No one/ does me 'up the butt'." He takes a few long, deep breaths before he can respond to the rest of her questions, which is enough, at least, that his tone is a little more conversational when he does speak, "Why so interested? Does it turn you on, the idea of me and P'ax? Or is it just me, in any form, you can't get enough of thinking about?"
The hiss in his voice just makes Tiriana's smirk solidify, confident that she's ahead right now. "Oh, it's you, all you," she drawls. "Do you know just how long I've been waiting to ask you that? It's been a shitty month, but you so red, making fish faces at me, makes up for all of it." And still grinning, she leans back in her chair, pushes her plate away; and finally, lazily, offers him the answer he wanted in the first place. "She was giving me a hard time about stuff, so I told her she could go die or something."
K'del's mouth opens again, and then, shuts, lips sliding into a thin, ill-content grimace of a smile. "Delighted, of course," he drawls, "to provide you with such entertainment. My role in life, etcetera, etcetera." He lips his mug from the table again, cradling it in both hands as she finally gives him that answer; by the time he speaks, his expression is more even, though his tone is outright incredulous. "Shells, Tiriana. Are you twelve or something? No wonder she doesn't like you anymore. She's better off with Lujayn, anyway. At least she acts like an adult."
As if the whole conversation hadn't served already to illustrate Tiriana's emotional age, she looks offended now, scowling at K'del. "She brought it up," she says, as though this makes it better. "And I agreed. No, well--actually I /didn't/ agree and then she got really pissy, so I said fine, go on then. Not like I /meant/ it or anything."
K'del gives Tiriana an openly dubious glance. "Right, 'cause telling your superior to go ahead and die is a great way to prove to them that you're mature and responsible and whatever else it is she thinks you might be." Wrongly, clearly, if K'del's expression and tone are anything to go by. "You're doing a bang up job at being the kind of person people respect and trust. No, really!"
Tiriana snorts. "Please. Like I care if /you/ respect or trust me. You're screwing P'ax," she tells him, affecting a certain lofty tone, hollow though it might be. "Plenty of other people do. Met a girl just the other night--our new herder. And then there's... there's other ones, anyway. --Those traders! They liked me. They wished I wasn't a rider so I could go be a trader with them." Which is not exactly how the offer went, but oh well. She latches onto it anyway.
"I'm /not/ screwing P'ax," K'del retorts, with a curl of his lip marking his distaste. "And you should care. You're supposed to be a leader; can't be much of one if the only examples of people who /like/ you you can think of are some new herder girl and some traders who don't even live here." Now, he pauses to take a sip from his mug, though by his expression, and the haste with which he sets it down, it must be cold, whatever it is. "You may not care, but I for one am glad that Satiet's alive and well, and even if she wasn't, Lujayn's her favourite now."
"Lujayn is not her favorite," Tiriana says, her voice rising slightly. "I'm still her favorite. It's--tough love, that's what it is. I am still her favorite. She just..." There's really no good way to end that, and Tiriana trails off with a glower at K'del still. "She'll get over this soon and it will be back like before."
Rather than actually respond with words, K'del merely lifts his eyebrows at Tiriana, as if to say 'really? Are you sure?'
She's quieter now, though, trailing off and reaching for her fork to twiddle it. For a dinner that began so promisingly, it sure doesn't seem to be going Tiriana's way now. "She will," she insists again, petulant. "She /has/ to. Can't hate me for the rest of her life."
"Why not? Have you given her any reason not to hate you?" K'del's smirk doesn't quite match the quietness of his words, as though he's almost willing to feel sorry for her, but can't help himself, all the same. "You're not exactly an easy person to like."
"Oh, and /she's/ so cuddly?" The question draws a sneer back out in Tiriana, a disdainful glare aimed at K'del. "Like she can complain about me not being likable. I think she's worse than me, even. Better at it." She hovers somewhere between her own self-pity and that unblunted idol worship, at once sullen and wistful.
K'del's shoulders shrug; he looks amused all over again. "She's someone you respect. You're not." Positively pleased with himself - or perhaps just at her bad temper - he adds, "You'll never be anything on her." Hah!
"You should watch your mouth, bronzerider." Back to that title, coldly, and though Tiriana's voice manages to stay frosty, her hatred is still written in the snarl on her lips. "Because I might not have anything on /her/, but you're nothing. Worthless little kid--the only thing that matters about you isn't even you, it's Cadejoth. And we have other, better bronzes already."
"Nothing, am I?" The jibe clearly doesn't just wash over K'del. His posture changes, his shoulders pulling back, his head lifting: no more lazy slouch. "We'll see about that. You can dislike me all you like, /Tiriana/, but that doesn't change the fact that I am /not/ nothing. I won't be. Wait and see. You'll be a lousy Weyrwoman, but one day? I am going to be an exceptional Weyrleader." The ego, right there.
"There's not a queen in this place that would let Cadejoth touch her," Tiriana answers, with a vicious smile now that she's been able to rattle back again. "Not Teonath and not Iovniath and not even Rielsath, and she's by far the dumbest one of them. Even if you did pull it off? You wouldn't have shit on /N'thei/, and he's the worst Weyrleader I've seen. And I've seen a lot of them."
Dripping with sarcasm, "And I thought Iovniath was so /sad/ about Cadejoth disappointing her. How wrong I was! How gullible!" K'del's expression has hardened to a determined mask, his posture unchanged since it straightened so sharply. "Because I'm honest, and don't threaten people, and don't spend all my time drunk and gambling? Sure, that makes me worse than N'thei. At least half the weyr doesn't hate /me/. At least I didn't get kicked out when I'd barely graduated. At least Satiet doesn't hate /me/." Admittedly, it's hard to hate someone you barely know. But. The laundry list gets thrown out with increasing satisfaction, not to mention lung-power: the caverns may not be busy, but people are staring, now.
"And that," Tiriana declares, triumphant, "is why he's not ever going to get near here again." She's heedless of watchers, seems in fact to be enjoying the attention she gets from both them and K'del. Still, her voice is lowered slightly; a hiss just for him. "No. She doesn't even think/ of you."
That flick of the lips is K'del's only mostly buried reaction to the barbs: they hurt, whatever else he says or does. That said, he manages a response in a tone that is almost conversational, except that it's too loud for that. "Just wait, Tiriana," he tells her. "Just you wait and see."
And she laughs, not happily. "Oh, I will. You'll just show us all up, won't you, Mr. Bigshot Weyrleader," she drawls. "I'm looking forward to it already. --You know, I almost wish he would, someday," is added, almost musingly. "Just so I could laugh when you fall on your ass."
"Well I /don't/ wish that you end as Weyrwoman," says K'del, snapping, this time, his ego crushed just a little too much to retain that civility he'd briefly regained. "Because I care too much about this weyr to see you ruin it."
Tiriana just smiles, and this time, she scoots her plate back just a touch further and stands. "Mmhmm, right. That's why you want to run it," she agrees. "Well. /I/ have duties to attend to, so if you'll excuse me. Goodnight, K'del. Say hi to P'ax for me, will you?"
There goes K'del's face again: flame red. His mouth opens, and once again, no words come out. Except, "You--" She can, no doubt, fill in the blank as she chooses.
There's a lot of words for her, and Tiriana's probably heard them all many times by now. Still, K'del's inability to get any of those out leaves her laughing again, and she wiggles her fingers at him in parting as she takes her leave.
K'del loses. Once she's gone, he thumps the table with his fist in frustration. Good times.
When: Day 18, Month 2, Turn 19
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana and K'del, at it again.
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.
Contents:
K'del
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
It's late enough in the evening that the caverns have cleared out some, and what's left on the serving tables is probably less than fresh. That would make the leftovers on K'del's plate - long since abandoned to congealment - even /less/ fresh, and distinctly distasteful. The young rider is eating (or, rather, /ignoring/) his late dinner for the sake of a group of lower caverns girl giggling a few tables over; he's on his own, sipping at whatever it is in his mug, instead of actually consuming his food.
It's late, but some people are still going against the drift of people back out of the caverns: Tiriana is one of these, just now arriving. She picks through the food for the best portions left, then turns about to seek out a seat. There are plenty to choose from, which seems to make the task harder; but when her eyes settle on a familiar shock of hair, she pauses only half a second before she heads that way. "Evening," she tells K'del, settling in the chair opposite him with a broad, smug smile.
K'del's view of the giggling girls is obstructed by the arriving goldrider, so he lifts it to meet her face levelly, his eyebrows arching in exaggerated surprise. "Deigning to speak to the lowly bronzerider are we this evening?" he asks her, instead of returning the greeting, as he lets his mug return to the table in front of him. "Or-- no, you're looking smug. What is it you want to laugh at me about?"
"Not blocking your view, am I?" Tiriana wonders, glancing back over her shoulder in mockingly apologetic fashion. She does not move, however, and instead folds her hands in front of her, delaying the meal for a moment to continue looking serenely self-satisfied. "Deigning, maybe. Maybe I thought I could make my peace. Bury the hatchet, or whatever it is they say," she tells him, and finally picks up her fork to take a first bite. "After all, I heard congratulations were in order." And though she feigns interest in her meal, she shoots a sly look up at him again anyway.
K'del's cheeks go instantly pink at mention of congratulations, his smile thinning slightly. When he responds, however, his tone is mild. "Not at all, Tiriana. You simply replaced a decent view with something far lovelier; my thanks. As for burying the hatchet - well, that's very grown up of you, though the congratulations, I think, belong to Cadejoth." His hands cling rather tightly to his ceramic mug, though he doesn't move to drink from it again.
"I'm just sorry it took me so long to get to do it," Tiriana says, and at least she sounds sincere about that part, judging by her triumphant grin when he pinkens. "But you know how it is, busy with weyrwomanly things. And, well--yes, I'm sure Cadejoth flew amazingly, but really, it can't hurt when you and the greenrider are already so close." She's fishing, eyes continuing to track him while she eats; a parody of polite interest.
"Oh, I heard you were distinctly less busy these days, now that Satiet's gone off you," retorts K'del - though manages to look and sound almost genuine. Almost. If his lips have pursed just a little tighter, well, that's to be forgiven. "Actually, it had more to do with the fact that Yyth and Cadejoth are very close. P'ax and I merely get along. Still. Cadejoth's a good flier."
Point for K'del. That smirk just tightens, but Tiriana keeps it determinedly in place as she corrects, "I'm still busy, even if I'm not spending my days following along after her." Still, she's ticked enough about that jibe that she takes a few moments to eat in silence before she comes up with a suitable retort of her own, a wistful, "Still, it's too bad he's so sweet on that bitch of a green. Iovniath was very sad to hear all about it."
That point in his favour is enough to relax K'del just a little - enough, at least, that he leans back in his chair, and picks up his mug again to take a sip while she eats. "Of course you are," he agrees, soothingly. "No doubt it's equally important work, too." As his mug returns to the table, his lip twitches slightly, a reaction he can't quite control. "Well, you can't blame him, really. A man has his needs - and Iovniath is taking her sweet time."
"You better believe she is," snaps Tiriana, an instinctive response to his slight. But a beat, and a deep breath, later, she adds, "We're waiting for the right moment. The right bronze, too--just when she thinks she might have one picked out, he always has to go do something really dumb." She smirks, but her fork stabs her food rather sharply still. "Of course, Iovniath, she'd never actually /say/ any of this, but I know when she's hurt."
"Of course," says K'del, nodding his head in an admirable, if far from perfect, attempt to look sage. The girls he was staring at earlier depart, and to his credit (well, questionably, anyway) he doesn't so much as glance at them as they pass: aww, Tiriana has all his attention. "Far too regal, our Iovniath, to actually /say/ this kind of thing. Very convenient." Beat. "What'd you do, anyway, to get the Weyrwoman all pissed off at you?"
Tiriana shrugs. "She doesn't like people knowing what she's really thinking," she explains. "Makes it too easy. Lucky I'm here to clue you in, actually." And nonchalant, she takes another bite before that latter question has her scowling. "So how's it feel, having P'ax do you up the butt?" The hatchet has officially been dug up.
K'del opens his mouth to respond to the first of Tiriana's words, but ends up without any to actually say as she asks her question. Point to Tiriana. Flame-red, and clearly hopping mad, he makes soundless word-shapes for several seconds before he can actually get anything out. "I. Wouldn't. Know. /He's/ the greenrider."
"Oh," says Tiriana, like this enlightens her. "/Oh/, I thought that just mattered as far as the /dragons/ went. Sorry, my mistake." Pause. She's silent and smirky for just a second longer, one more bite of food. Then, "So. How's it feel, doing him? Any better?"
K'del keeps his voice low, though he can't keep the hiss out of it. "/No one/ does me 'up the butt'." He takes a few long, deep breaths before he can respond to the rest of her questions, which is enough, at least, that his tone is a little more conversational when he does speak, "Why so interested? Does it turn you on, the idea of me and P'ax? Or is it just me, in any form, you can't get enough of thinking about?"
The hiss in his voice just makes Tiriana's smirk solidify, confident that she's ahead right now. "Oh, it's you, all you," she drawls. "Do you know just how long I've been waiting to ask you that? It's been a shitty month, but you so red, making fish faces at me, makes up for all of it." And still grinning, she leans back in her chair, pushes her plate away; and finally, lazily, offers him the answer he wanted in the first place. "She was giving me a hard time about stuff, so I told her she could go die or something."
K'del's mouth opens again, and then, shuts, lips sliding into a thin, ill-content grimace of a smile. "Delighted, of course," he drawls, "to provide you with such entertainment. My role in life, etcetera, etcetera." He lips his mug from the table again, cradling it in both hands as she finally gives him that answer; by the time he speaks, his expression is more even, though his tone is outright incredulous. "Shells, Tiriana. Are you twelve or something? No wonder she doesn't like you anymore. She's better off with Lujayn, anyway. At least she acts like an adult."
As if the whole conversation hadn't served already to illustrate Tiriana's emotional age, she looks offended now, scowling at K'del. "She brought it up," she says, as though this makes it better. "And I agreed. No, well--actually I /didn't/ agree and then she got really pissy, so I said fine, go on then. Not like I /meant/ it or anything."
K'del gives Tiriana an openly dubious glance. "Right, 'cause telling your superior to go ahead and die is a great way to prove to them that you're mature and responsible and whatever else it is she thinks you might be." Wrongly, clearly, if K'del's expression and tone are anything to go by. "You're doing a bang up job at being the kind of person people respect and trust. No, really!"
Tiriana snorts. "Please. Like I care if /you/ respect or trust me. You're screwing P'ax," she tells him, affecting a certain lofty tone, hollow though it might be. "Plenty of other people do. Met a girl just the other night--our new herder. And then there's... there's other ones, anyway. --Those traders! They liked me. They wished I wasn't a rider so I could go be a trader with them." Which is not exactly how the offer went, but oh well. She latches onto it anyway.
"I'm /not/ screwing P'ax," K'del retorts, with a curl of his lip marking his distaste. "And you should care. You're supposed to be a leader; can't be much of one if the only examples of people who /like/ you you can think of are some new herder girl and some traders who don't even live here." Now, he pauses to take a sip from his mug, though by his expression, and the haste with which he sets it down, it must be cold, whatever it is. "You may not care, but I for one am glad that Satiet's alive and well, and even if she wasn't, Lujayn's her favourite now."
"Lujayn is not her favorite," Tiriana says, her voice rising slightly. "I'm still her favorite. It's--tough love, that's what it is. I am still her favorite. She just..." There's really no good way to end that, and Tiriana trails off with a glower at K'del still. "She'll get over this soon and it will be back like before."
Rather than actually respond with words, K'del merely lifts his eyebrows at Tiriana, as if to say 'really? Are you sure?'
She's quieter now, though, trailing off and reaching for her fork to twiddle it. For a dinner that began so promisingly, it sure doesn't seem to be going Tiriana's way now. "She will," she insists again, petulant. "She /has/ to. Can't hate me for the rest of her life."
"Why not? Have you given her any reason not to hate you?" K'del's smirk doesn't quite match the quietness of his words, as though he's almost willing to feel sorry for her, but can't help himself, all the same. "You're not exactly an easy person to like."
"Oh, and /she's/ so cuddly?" The question draws a sneer back out in Tiriana, a disdainful glare aimed at K'del. "Like she can complain about me not being likable. I think she's worse than me, even. Better at it." She hovers somewhere between her own self-pity and that unblunted idol worship, at once sullen and wistful.
K'del's shoulders shrug; he looks amused all over again. "She's someone you respect. You're not." Positively pleased with himself - or perhaps just at her bad temper - he adds, "You'll never be anything on her." Hah!
"You should watch your mouth, bronzerider." Back to that title, coldly, and though Tiriana's voice manages to stay frosty, her hatred is still written in the snarl on her lips. "Because I might not have anything on /her/, but you're nothing. Worthless little kid--the only thing that matters about you isn't even you, it's Cadejoth. And we have other, better bronzes already."
"Nothing, am I?" The jibe clearly doesn't just wash over K'del. His posture changes, his shoulders pulling back, his head lifting: no more lazy slouch. "We'll see about that. You can dislike me all you like, /Tiriana/, but that doesn't change the fact that I am /not/ nothing. I won't be. Wait and see. You'll be a lousy Weyrwoman, but one day? I am going to be an exceptional Weyrleader." The ego, right there.
"There's not a queen in this place that would let Cadejoth touch her," Tiriana answers, with a vicious smile now that she's been able to rattle back again. "Not Teonath and not Iovniath and not even Rielsath, and she's by far the dumbest one of them. Even if you did pull it off? You wouldn't have shit on /N'thei/, and he's the worst Weyrleader I've seen. And I've seen a lot of them."
Dripping with sarcasm, "And I thought Iovniath was so /sad/ about Cadejoth disappointing her. How wrong I was! How gullible!" K'del's expression has hardened to a determined mask, his posture unchanged since it straightened so sharply. "Because I'm honest, and don't threaten people, and don't spend all my time drunk and gambling? Sure, that makes me worse than N'thei. At least half the weyr doesn't hate /me/. At least I didn't get kicked out when I'd barely graduated. At least Satiet doesn't hate /me/." Admittedly, it's hard to hate someone you barely know. But. The laundry list gets thrown out with increasing satisfaction, not to mention lung-power: the caverns may not be busy, but people are staring, now.
"And that," Tiriana declares, triumphant, "is why he's not ever going to get near here again." She's heedless of watchers, seems in fact to be enjoying the attention she gets from both them and K'del. Still, her voice is lowered slightly; a hiss just for him. "No. She doesn't even think/ of you."
That flick of the lips is K'del's only mostly buried reaction to the barbs: they hurt, whatever else he says or does. That said, he manages a response in a tone that is almost conversational, except that it's too loud for that. "Just wait, Tiriana," he tells her. "Just you wait and see."
And she laughs, not happily. "Oh, I will. You'll just show us all up, won't you, Mr. Bigshot Weyrleader," she drawls. "I'm looking forward to it already. --You know, I almost wish he would, someday," is added, almost musingly. "Just so I could laugh when you fall on your ass."
"Well I /don't/ wish that you end as Weyrwoman," says K'del, snapping, this time, his ego crushed just a little too much to retain that civility he'd briefly regained. "Because I care too much about this weyr to see you ruin it."
Tiriana just smiles, and this time, she scoots her plate back just a touch further and stands. "Mmhmm, right. That's why you want to run it," she agrees. "Well. /I/ have duties to attend to, so if you'll excuse me. Goodnight, K'del. Say hi to P'ax for me, will you?"
There goes K'del's face again: flame red. His mouth opens, and once again, no words come out. Except, "You--" She can, no doubt, fill in the blank as she chooses.
There's a lot of words for her, and Tiriana's probably heard them all many times by now. Still, K'del's inability to get any of those out leaves her laughing again, and she wiggles her fingers at him in parting as she takes her leave.
K'del loses. Once she's gone, he thumps the table with his fist in frustration. Good times.