[Log] Playing Nice
Who: K'del, Tiriana
When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 20
Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr
What: Another turn, same as last one.
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
Heavy rain in the middle of winter only means that the temperature is only a few degrees above freezing; it's more miserable for the soaking torrents.
Contents:
K'del
Obvious exits:
Diving Cliff Lake [Gardens] Bowl [Far End of Lake] [Sky]
It's the rare clear winter day, with not a cloud in the sky; but instead of precipation, the Reaches gets bitter cold, and the residents are by and large bundled up more than usual when they have to venture out. Iovniath is at the feeding grounds, though rather than catching her own kill, she's letting one of the young browns of her clutch demonstrate his skills. The beast he catches is old, one of the weyrling culls, but he's quite excited to offer it to his mother at any rate. Tiriana ignores them all, tramping down toward the lake as she tries to keep moving and keep warm, feet stamping in the snow.
It is not also feeding time for skinny bronzes, but that doesn't meant Cadejoth hasn't interrupted whatever he was doing on the lakeshore (which involves K'del being utterly covered in snow) in order to wing his way over and admire the work of both mother and son. It leaves his rider free to shake some of the snow off of his shoulders and bare head, and to then blow on his presumably quite frozen hands before he digs for his gloves again. Tiriana's approach seems not to surprise him too much, because despite his state of snow-coveredness, his greeting is a relatively dignified, "Afternoon, Tiriana."
Dignified? From K'del, to Tiriana? Tiriana regards this new development with some suspicion, mouth pursing slightly. But it's too cold, maybe, for being disagreeable, so she instead reaches her gloved hands up to pull her furry hat down over her ears a little more, then says, "Hey." It is doubtless an auspicious start.
Dragon> Her eyes are only for her son, as she takes those first bites of the kill he's brought her, declares it good no matter how old and stringy the meat is. But for Cadejoth and his attentions, there's a burst of cold sent his way, good-natured. (Iovniath to Cadejoth)
Even with the application of his gloves, K'del smacks his hands together and then shakes them, attempting to warm them up some more. /He/ doesn't seem too concerned by the exchange thus far; he even /smiles/ at her, though it's not exactly a warm smile. Blame the weather. None of this means he doesn't struggle with following his greeting up with something more conversational. Silence, for a few moments, and then, "Weyrlings are looking good. Flying, already!" Smooth. Really.
Dragon> In return, Iovniath gets a flurry of snowflakes, no doubt a mental recreation of the ones that coat his hide already, from too many snowballs. Though he provides some suitably paternal pride to their son, his remark to Iovniath is a laughing one, << Bit old looking. Still, that was sweet of him, wasn't it? Killing for you. >> (Cadejoth to Iovniath)
The strained moments of coming up with something conversational to say seem to amuse Tiriana more than anything else: her mouth tilts into a smirk, and she steps over closer, with a look back at the weyrling dragon. "Yeah. Flying," she agrees, laemly. "Kids--they grow up so fast." And she mimes wiping away a tear.
K'del? Not unaware of that amusement, though it shows only in a twitch of his expression, and the brief stilling of both of his hands before off they go again, warming up. "All right, so you don't particularly care about that," he says, rolling his eyes. "Only trying to be civil."
"Yeah. I know," says Tiriana, snorting. "It's funny. You, me. Civil." Not that she's laughing, exactly, but. Her smirk fades somewhat. "They are big, though. The weyrlings. Be grown soon. Be /more/ soon, if we're lucky." And her eyes narrow slightly, but at Iovniath rather than at K'del. Iovniath, however, pays the riders no mind, too occupied assuring her eager weyrling that yes, it's wonderful herdbeast.
Dragon> That cold tightens into icy points, prickles against Cadejoth's mind. << It is a sweet gesture, and you will say nothing else to him, >> she declares firmly, just to him, quite maternal about her weyrling. (Iovniath to Cadejoth)
From K'del, a shrug, lazy, mostly muffled through the weight of his coat. "Got to keep trying. Still got to work together." Beat. "More? Yeah, that'd be good. Suppose Iovniath won't be due again for ages, but there's Rielsath." He appears to be very deliberately not following her gaze towards Iovniath; he's definitely well aware of her glance. "Guess we don't /need/ more, but it never hurts, right? These ones've been pretty cool."
Dragon> Instantly: << Of course. I wouldn't! It's adorable. >> He backs off a little, too, aside from that little coil of chain that slinks back towards her, like a hand intending to soothe, though it doesn't actually touch. << It's neat, that they can catch their own food, now! And for us. I guess they'll get better at taking down the good ones, though, eventually. >> (Cadejoth to Iovniath)
"Don't have to be civil," Tiriana differs with a shake of her head. "I'm just as happy not. Even if we do have to work together--not like we really do /that/ much together." Her shoulders lift, a half-shrug before she leaves it alone. Instead, mockingly, "Pretty cool. Really, that's the best you can come up with to say? Really?" Snort.
"It's better for the weyr if we are," insists K'del, firmly, narrowing his gaze upon the Weyrwoman. "/I'd/ prefer it, in general. Don't actually want to dislike you, Tiriana." He ignores - which is actually pretty impressive, really - her last barb, jamming his hands into his pockets sharply, instead. "Guess they'll be getting weyrs in another few months. Wonder if someone'll move into my old one."
Tiriana's eyes roll, just for a moment. "Just because /you/ don't have the balls for a real fight," she answers. "What, you don't dislike me yet? You expect me to believe that, too." She doesn't, not for one moemnt. Instead, she drawls, with a saccharine little smirk this time, "Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure to keep it open for you."
K'del's lips tighten, as though he's been sucking on a lemon. "No," he says. "Because I don't see any point in being this childish over everything. What the fuck is your problem, anyway, Tiriana? It's not as though you're missing anything in your life to make you so desperately unhappy you need to try and make other people miserable, too." It's yet another case of not answering things he doesn't want to, though his shoulders straighten, drawing him up to his full height.
"The fuck's my problem?" It just amuses Tiriana, as though transferring her ill humor to K'del leaves her only cheerful in turn. "You think you know so much about what I've got to make me unhappy? Don't think that's any of your business, and anyway, like you're so secure in /your/ happiness? If I can just walk up and ruin your whole day every time..." She shrugs, smirks.
K'del's voice belies what his words say: "You haven't ruined my whole day, Tiriana. Don't be an idiot. Honestly? I don't care what it is that makes you such a miserable, unhappy person; just wish you'd stop taking it out on people /trying/ to be nice, make a difference, and do their fucking jobs." He pauses for breath, dropping his shoulders sharply, and then concludes, "You're a child, still attempting to steal other people's toys, just to make yourself laugh."
"And you're... just a child." Anything more cutting trails off, his age apparently enough of a jibe to make her snicker. "Are you going to run back to your mommy now and complain about how I'm such a meanie and I made you cry? Milani, maybe. Go bury your head in her--skirts."
K'del does, at least, seem relatively immune now to jibes about his age, because he doesn't flinch at that, nor even at what follows it. "No," he says. "Believe it or not, you don't actually have that much power over me. I don't care that much about what you think." Beat. "Actually, I don't really care at all, but I'm trying to be the adult here and meet you half way. Which clearly isn't going to work, so - forget it."
"I don't get it," says Tiriana after a moment, a touch more thoughtful, though still smirking. "How playing at being nice, acting like you like people when you hate their damn guts--how that's supposed to be the adult thing to do. Adults ought to be able to tell each other exactly what they think of each other, and since neither one of us obviously cares what the other thinks, I don't know why you keep going in circles trying to play nice every time."
"And that's how it's obvious that you're not an adult, yet," concludes K'del, more smoothly than he really has any right to, given how close he was to blowing up not that long ago. "/I/ still don't get why you hate my guts so much, but I've resigned myself to that, and no, I really don't care. Just prefer to have good working relationships with people. Don't actually like people hating my guts."
Tiriana waves a hand. "Liking's not the same thing as respecting," she retorts. "You, that's your problem. Always so worried about how everybody else sees you. They can like you all they want, but they're still going to think you're just a little boy playing dress-up. And that's why I don't like you."
"But you obviously don't respect me, either." K'del's getting cold, bouncing up and down from one foot to the other in attempt not to completely freeze, but he's not exactly making moves to leave, either. "So, you don't like me because you think I'm a little boy playing dress-up, or because I'm worried about how everybody sees me? Because either of those are just /excellent/ reasons to hate someone's guts. Really."
"They are," Tiriana says, stubbornly. "You're just a kid. You look ridiculous. You make /me/ look ridiculous." This, apparently, does not qualify as hypocrisy in /her/ mind. "And then there's stuff like those raiders, where they've been /kidnapping/ our people, and you still don't want to hurt them."
K'del's eyebrows raise, and he fastens a low, long look at Tiriana. "One of these days, you should take a good long look at yourself, Tiriana." Head shaking, he adds, then, "No, I don't. Punish, yes, but I still don't believe in killing people, and I bet you'll find a pretty large proportion of the weyr who agree with me. Whatever they've done." His lips draw together again, and then: "Forget it. You can't see anything beyond your protected little worldview, your disdain, your ego, your self-importance. Grow up, Tiriana. /I/ don't have time for that." He turns to leave.
"I see plenty," Tiriana snaps off at once. "I see enough to know I have to take care of my fucking Weyr whatever it takes. If it means killing everybody who comes against us. You can't play nice with these people, K'del. Hell, most of the time I can't even with the people here. Nice people just get walked over and forgotten."
K'del doesn't turn back around to answer this, but he does, before his footsteps take him too far away, note, "You can't play nice with anyone, Tiriana. Not everyone deserves to die."
Tiriana mutters, "Just have to think they could." But that's mostly to Iovniath, as she turns to meet her dragon, who quickly makes her excuses to her weyrling. He looks sad, and she's likely still hungry after just that one scrawny beast, but nevermind that. Tiriana, plainly upset, needs her, and so Iovniath escorts her hastily home. Chalk this one to K'del.