[Log] Fucking Exiles
Who: K'del, Tiriana
When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 26
Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: There is a body. In K'del's weyr.
The party is in full swing, and not long ago, K'del was out there having a (reasonably) good time. But then there was Cadejoth-- Cadejoth, who was alerted by the screams of a resident sent to find the toy firelizard Nikalas has been bleating about all afternoon. Cadejoth, who stuck his head into the weyr to see what was going on. Cadejoth, who alerted /everyone/. So K'del runs, scrambling past people, taking the steps several at a time, swearing under his breath: "Fuck, fuck, fuck, are you sure, Cadejoth? /Fuck/."
In a dress and those fancy shoes? Tiriana isn't at fast as she could be, but she still hurries toward the ledges as soon as word starts to leak out. Iovniath is already back in her customary spot, curled up as nonchalantly as possible though the ice in her mind vibrates against Cadejoth's with barely-contained fury. And her rider's only just behind K'del as they hit the steps and she demands, "What the /fuck/ is going on now?"
Cadejoth is half stuck in the entrance to the weyr, pushed as far in as he can manage, which leaves his hindquarters flailing ungraciously in the air behind him. Charming. His panic still reverberates through the weyr, though Iovniath's presence seems to help some; enough, at least, that his tail stops flailing. "I don't /know/," spits out K'del, less malice aimed at the goldrider than the breathlessness that comes with running at such speed - and the obvious fear. The poor girl is still screaming, and it's audible, now: louder and louder as K'del bursts through into the weyr and comes to a gasping halt, eyes wide and face white with terror.
<< Would you /hush/, >> Iovniath finally snaps, weighting down the flailing bronze with her goldiness. << You are going to panic my Weyr and ruin the party. >> She's not so worried about said party as the appearance of said party, at least. Tiriana's no less testy as she barges along behind K'del into the weyr: it's the screaming girl that earns her attention first, even before the body on the floor. "Shut the fuck up and get out of here. And if you say a word to anybody--" she snaps off at the unfortunate first responder.
Thus commanded, Cadejoth /does/ hush, subsiding into anxious - but not overwhelmed - concern, which tangles his chains into knots and sends them spranging -- it's better than nothing, though. The poor girl seems even more terrified by Tiriana than the body, but at least the Weyrwoman wants her to do what she clearly wants to do herself: she flees. That leaves the two weyrleaders alone in the weyr with the dead girl; it takes K'del several moments after the girl has left before he can take a half step forward. But then he stops again, staring blankly. "Tiriana. There's a body on the floor."
Tiriana watches after the girl with the sort of expression that says if she talks, she may well find herself on the floor like the first dead body. It's only after the discoverer is gone that the Weyrwoman steps forward. "That's... a lot of blood," she observes, wonderingly. She picks up the hem of her dress to make sure it doesn't drag through the half-congealed pool.
Snappishly; "Is that all you can say?" K'del's crossing directly towards the dead girl, now, reaching down as if he intends to check for her pulse, though he seems, in the end, to think better of it. "She's dead. Why is there a dead girl in my weyr, Tiriana?" Now, after all of this, he sounds surprisingly calm. There's just a faint edge to his voice, holding back the torrents of emotion.
"It's better than 'there's a body on my floor'," is Tiriana's retort, hands balling up like she's about to hit him. She does not, at least. Instead, she extends one foot very carefully to nudge said body in the shoulder before she jerks back a step. "You didn't do it?" she asks then; just as quickly it's dismissed in a shake of her head. "No, you don't have balls for /that/. --She was one of Them, wasn't she."
K'del doesn't rise to the bait of that retort, instead squatting beside the body in an obvious attempt to get a better look at her face, bloodstained though it is. He's noticed the little stuffed firelizard, too, his mouth hardening as he regards it. "If I was going to kill someone, it wouldn't be-- she's Seani. Was. She was one of the nannies; Nik talked about her all the time. She-- she'd really tried to fit in here. Make a new life for her. She was nice."
"Did you fuck her?" Tiriana wants to know. It's relevant, really!
Silence - but during that silence, K'del shoots a glance at Tiriana. "/No/."
"Damn it," and Tiriana sounds genuine about that much, at least. "That'd be too easy, if it was some kind of--jealousy thing. Between your women." She studies the body some more, but doesn't lean down close to it like he does. She shoots a glance to the ledge, where Iovniath is still acting unfussed but clearly offering some suggestion. "So one of them killed her for... liking us? Being one of us?" Tiriana ventures that theory.
Eyebrows raised, K'del gives Tiriana a long glance. "Some kind of jealousy thing. Really." But he has more immediate concerns, and they win out over sniping with the Weyrwoman. He sucks in a breath. "She could be right." Iovniath. Where else could it be? Not Tiriana. "Seems... like some of them don't /want/ to integrate. And after today..." A low breath. "They'll probably blame us, though."
"Unless it was one of ours instead," Tiriana adds, scowling down at Seani like this will somehow fix their problem. "Except, why is she in /your/ Weyr? --Everybody always blames us. Fucking exiles."
"She has Nik's toy." Like this explains everything - or even anything. K'del doesn't pick up the toy, though: it's pretty much ruined, at this point. "I-- guess we'll have to call in the harpers? And the healers, maybe? Don't even know. I'd assume."
"Not exactly sure what a healer is going to do here," is Tiriana's dubious comment, as she eyes the body splayed out there on the floor. "But--I guess. Iovniath'll send for them." There's a look out to the gold on the ledge, the woman's eyes unfocusing for that moment. Then she breathes out, deeply, and just shakes her head. Generously, "You can have our couch, if you want. For the night."
K'del waves a hand, vaguely, explaining, "Deal with the body, I guess. Whatever healers do." He stands, now, wiping his hands on his trousers for all that they haven't touched anything. "I--" he begins. "Thanks. Appreciate the offer. Milani's still got a room, though. I think we'll stay there. Rather than put you out. What with Nik and all." He scrubs at his chin, looking uncomfortable. "This place is never going to feel comfortable again, is it?"
The offer made, Tiriana still looks relieved to have it turned down. "That's a lot of blood," she repeats her earlier obversation instead, eyeing the pool again as it soaks into the stone. "What else are you going to do?"
K'del squints at the blood, shaking his head. "Else? What, about the blood? How well does blood come out of stone, anyway?" There's a pause, accompanied by the running of his hand through his hair. "Guess we'll see what the harpers say, about the rest. Whether-- what kind of investigation they can do. See if anyone saw anything. But everyone was at the hatching, right? It could've happened then and no one would see anything."
"Depends on the stone, I guess," Tiriana says, like she's never really thought about it before. Then again, usually she's more about blood-letting than blood-scrubbing. "What do you do if it's not comfortable," she corrects only idly, too. "So we just need to figure out who of several /thousand/ people wasn't at the hatching and there's our answer. Great." Beat. "We're fucked."
K'del's oh is barely audible. "There's that other junior weyr, the one we use as a guest weyr, sometimes," he suggests, after a moment. "We could move in there. At least for a while." His shrug is vague; he hasn't really thought this out yet. "I-- yeah. We're fucked. Like we didn't have enough fucking problems already."
Tiriana shrugs. "I guess," she concedes that point. "We won't need it for a while, at least." And that thought's enough to darken her expression again, eyes narrowing at K'del. "What were you /thinking/, anyway? You fucking let them on the sands!" Because they haven't had /that/ fight yet. Nevermind there's a body on the floor beside them.
That-- was not a smart thing to remind Tiriana of, and it shows visibly in K'del's expression. "She--" He breaks off. "It's a long story. Anyway, it wouldn't have mattered: if she hadn't been on the sands, probably that queen would've found her in the stands. It's not like it hasn't happened before." Beat. "They're not /all/ my fault, though, I swear it. I had nothing to do with the one who got the dragon with the weird wings."
"That bitch was the worst one!" Tiriana retorts, taking a step toward K'del. Her hands are balled up like she's going to hit him now. "We could at least make the effort, damn it. And to hell with it if it makes a scene; it's better than half the clutch being /exiles/."
K'del's fists go out reflexively, though Faranth knows he's not exactly known for his self-defense skills. "It is what it is," he spits back at Tiriana. "She's a nice girl. Iolene. It'll probably do good things, if the exiles feel like they have an ear. You've got two others; it's not as though you'll have to /rely/ on her. Or whatever. Fuck you." Beat. "If you knock me into that blood, the harpers will murder us both."
For a moment--just a moment!--Tiriana looks like she's thinking better of what she's about to do. Except, this is Tiriana and she doesn't think better: she punches. In this case, she punches K'del, aiming a fist right for his jaw; let's hope he's smart enough to stumble /away/ from the blood. "This. Is still. Your fault. From the flight on--even before that! You ruin /everything/."
In the end, it probably isn't 'smart enough' so much as 'blind luck' that has K'del falling /away/ from the crime scene. He ends up on his knees, bracing his hands against the rug, his head tilted up so that he can glower at the Weyrwoman; his body is tensed, but - thus far - he doesn't seem inclined to launch himself at her. "Me. /Really/. Because you're such a paragon; wouldn't know a mistake if it hit you in the face. Fuck off." Now he stands, nose in the air, making to leave.
"We wouldn't have dead exiles if it weren't for you. We wouldn't exiles on the sands if it weren't for you," Tiriana says, ticking those off on her fingers. "We wouldn't have exiles at /all/ if it weren't for you. And you think /I'm/ the bad guy." She sniffs, and when he makes to leave, she's quick to dodge around so /she/ can be the first to leave, petty as that may be. "It's your weyr; you deal with the harpers," she announces.
K'del's not /unwilling/ to leave Tiriana be the first to leave, though he hardly looks pleased to be left alone with the dead girl. "Because punishing innocent people with something their ancestors may or may not have done - Faranth, I'm a terrible person," he snaps, arms crossed in front of him. "Fuck off."
"You said that already," Tiriana says, as she does just that. /Some/body has to do party crowd control, after all. And she's the pretty one!
Which leaves K'del and the dead body. Ho-- wait. No. Gross.
Too far. Too soon.
Never did have a good feel for that.
It's about the only thing you didn't feel.
So? I'm a /dude/.
You killed my internet. :(
Again.
MWAHAHAHAH.
Tiriana sulks.
Tiriana ditches.
Tiriana makes you post the log.
Tiriana goes home.