The Mother's Wrath
I think we have a moral obligation to our children that can be easily summarized: number one, protect them from harm. ~Tom Allen
OOC Date: February 26, 2010
IC Date: Day 22, month 1, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Elie, K'del
Where: Council Chambers, HRW
Gabrion's mother, Elie, confronts K'del about her son's candidacy, to no avail.
Earlier this afternoon, K'del was trying to work in the nighthearth, but evidently that got too crowded, because here he is, back in the Council Chambers, uncomfortable seats and all. He /has/ brought a pillow with him, which he's sitting on carefully, and it seems to be helping in as much as he's working quite diligently, ignoring the cold klah sitting next to him, and the plate of cookies that some helpful soul has provided.
In strides an older woman, fairly short, with a big nose and bushy eyebrows. She's dressed in riding gear and wearing a greenrider's knot, though helmet and goggles are not in evidence. She's also obviously got a bee in her bonnet about something, for her lips are set into a thin line and her eyes are snapping with intensity. She doesn't wait to be invited into the room, and doesn't offer any kind of polite greeting at all - in fact, the first word out of her mouth, when she stops about half a dozen paces from K'del and plants her feet, is, "/You./"
/K'del/. The bearer of that name visibly starts, gaze flicking upwards to focus directly on the greenrider, then hovering there, awkward. He looks rather like a small animal caught in the sudden glare of a glowlamp, and it takes him a good couple of questions before he can say, as pleasantly as he can possibly manage, "Can I help you, greenrider?"
Elie has been a mother for many, many Turns. She arches one eyebrow like a pro, if there were pros at staring down teenagers. "I certainly hope so," she says briskly. "My son Gabrion seems to be under the impression that /you/ gave him permission to stand at the upcoming hatching." This, her tone implies, cannot possibly be correct: it's all the result of some misunderstanding that will be rectified as of three seconds ago.
The dawning of understanding on K'del's expression is pretty obvious. To his credit, he doesn't drop his gaze, doesn't turn pink, and really, doesn't do much more than swallow-- though that's probably enough to illustrate his nervousness. After a moment's pause he says, quietly, "That's correct: I did. He's every right to do so." Even if K'del looks like he might want to sink into the floor.
Elie's eyebrow arches upward another notch. "He has no business on those sands. I've made that clear to him since he was small, but he seems to be developing a stubborn streak. Not so very unlike..." she doesn't complete that sentence, but presses her lips firmly closed. Then, abruptly, her tone switches to a bright and reasonable one, and she even smiles at K'del. "It's easily mended, though. You'll simply call him in, and let him know that you made a mistake, and that in fact he is /not/ to Stand." Ever generous, she adds, "You can even blame it on my objections. He'll understand."
K'del, however, does not return the smile. "I'm afraid," he tells her, in what is probably intended to be a reasonable and even tone, though the effect is rather ruined by a faint shake in it. "That that isn't possible. Simply isn't. You know as well as anyone that weyrchildren have the right to stand, if they choose. And he /does/ choose." His gaze has gone sharper, and by the end of his words, he even sounds more authoritative. "I'm sorry for what you've been through, but Gabrion is considered an adult under weyr law, and thus, he gets to make his own decisions." Beat. "It's /Interval/. He's going to be fine. Perfectly safe."
"Weyr law," Elie repeats, in an amused-sounding tone, and snorts faintly. "Remind me, young man," she says, again pinning K'del with that teenager-quelling stare. "How many turns do you have? I seem to have forgotten."
Ouch. It's true, that's usually a very good way to get K'del where it hurts-- at this moment, though, it seems to be doing as much a good job of firing him up as embarrassing him. The blush may not help his cause, but at least his words are firm. "My age is hardly relevant, /Greenrider/."
"Mmmmhmmmm." Elie manages to contradict K'del without even using words. "And remind me," she drawls slowly, "how many turns you fought Thread?"
K'del is beginning to get pissed off, now; that much is clearly obvious. "I am /not/ going to rescind Gabrion's permission to stand, Greenrider, so you can stop trying to convince me otherwise."
"I'm simply trying to explain to you how things are /really/ done in a weyr," Elie says firmly. "Someone's told you what the rules are, and so you think you have to go by the book, and do things exactly the way you've been told they ought to be done. That's all well and good. But you're the weyrleader, for some reason none of us can fathom, and what you have to realize is that a /leader/ doesn't simply go by the book. Because sometimes there isn't one. Especially in Threadfall." A twitch of a bushy eyebrow reinforces the reminder that one of them knows Thread intimately, and the other does not. "A leader does what he needs to do. And if you're any kind of leader, you'll get the power to do it from somewhere - book be hanged. I've given a son to the cause of Pern's protection already. I don't intend to lose another. One is more than enough to ask of any mother. I'm sure you understand my position." She looks at him expectantly.
K'del is silent during that speech, and the only thing that really gives away his increasingly heady anger is the clenching of his fists atop the table. It's through extreme force of will - most likely - that he manages to keep his tone as civil as he does, when it's his turn to reply. "I am genuinely sorry that you lost a son," he tells her. "Genuinely. /But/. There is no thread. And it is your /son's/ choice to make, not yours. And as a leader, /that/ is my judgement on the matter. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to get used to the idea, because I happen to /hope/ that Gabrion Impresses. He's got a good head on his shoulders, and he knows what he wants."
That draws from Elie an expression that is vaguely related to a smile, but it's not a smile. It's more like a baring of teeth. Her eyes have gone eerily wide, and her face flushes. "Well. Your judgment as a /leader/. Is it?" Her voice is shaky with barely controlled anger. "This is not finished," she warns K'del. "I will be speaking with my son." She turns on her heel, and walks out. A moment later, a gentle-but-distracted mindtouch from Freyath conveys a sense of deeply sincere apology to Cadejoth, tinged liberally with worry. << She will not bother yours again >> she says. Then her presence fades as she returns all of her attention to the task of getting her rider back to her weyr and back to some semblance of reasonable-ness.
K'del is not actually shaking any less, but he, at least, is sitting down, and doesn't /have/ to say anything more. And he doesn't: he watches her go in cold, expressionless silence. What he /does/ do is send a weyrchild to deliver a message to Gabrion, reiterating that a message has gone out to Healer Hall, and he has the full sport of the Weyrleadership to stand, regardless of anything. Cadejoth's response to Freyath is understanding, and perhaps as equally apologetic: << We understand. We hope-- all will be well. >> A rattle of bones and chains marks his touch, though he lets her leave without pressing for anything more.
OOC Date: February 26, 2010
IC Date: Day 22, month 1, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Elie, K'del
Where: Council Chambers, HRW
Gabrion's mother, Elie, confronts K'del about her son's candidacy, to no avail.
Earlier this afternoon, K'del was trying to work in the nighthearth, but evidently that got too crowded, because here he is, back in the Council Chambers, uncomfortable seats and all. He /has/ brought a pillow with him, which he's sitting on carefully, and it seems to be helping in as much as he's working quite diligently, ignoring the cold klah sitting next to him, and the plate of cookies that some helpful soul has provided.
In strides an older woman, fairly short, with a big nose and bushy eyebrows. She's dressed in riding gear and wearing a greenrider's knot, though helmet and goggles are not in evidence. She's also obviously got a bee in her bonnet about something, for her lips are set into a thin line and her eyes are snapping with intensity. She doesn't wait to be invited into the room, and doesn't offer any kind of polite greeting at all - in fact, the first word out of her mouth, when she stops about half a dozen paces from K'del and plants her feet, is, "/You./"
/K'del/. The bearer of that name visibly starts, gaze flicking upwards to focus directly on the greenrider, then hovering there, awkward. He looks rather like a small animal caught in the sudden glare of a glowlamp, and it takes him a good couple of questions before he can say, as pleasantly as he can possibly manage, "Can I help you, greenrider?"
Elie has been a mother for many, many Turns. She arches one eyebrow like a pro, if there were pros at staring down teenagers. "I certainly hope so," she says briskly. "My son Gabrion seems to be under the impression that /you/ gave him permission to stand at the upcoming hatching." This, her tone implies, cannot possibly be correct: it's all the result of some misunderstanding that will be rectified as of three seconds ago.
The dawning of understanding on K'del's expression is pretty obvious. To his credit, he doesn't drop his gaze, doesn't turn pink, and really, doesn't do much more than swallow-- though that's probably enough to illustrate his nervousness. After a moment's pause he says, quietly, "That's correct: I did. He's every right to do so." Even if K'del looks like he might want to sink into the floor.
Elie's eyebrow arches upward another notch. "He has no business on those sands. I've made that clear to him since he was small, but he seems to be developing a stubborn streak. Not so very unlike..." she doesn't complete that sentence, but presses her lips firmly closed. Then, abruptly, her tone switches to a bright and reasonable one, and she even smiles at K'del. "It's easily mended, though. You'll simply call him in, and let him know that you made a mistake, and that in fact he is /not/ to Stand." Ever generous, she adds, "You can even blame it on my objections. He'll understand."
K'del, however, does not return the smile. "I'm afraid," he tells her, in what is probably intended to be a reasonable and even tone, though the effect is rather ruined by a faint shake in it. "That that isn't possible. Simply isn't. You know as well as anyone that weyrchildren have the right to stand, if they choose. And he /does/ choose." His gaze has gone sharper, and by the end of his words, he even sounds more authoritative. "I'm sorry for what you've been through, but Gabrion is considered an adult under weyr law, and thus, he gets to make his own decisions." Beat. "It's /Interval/. He's going to be fine. Perfectly safe."
"Weyr law," Elie repeats, in an amused-sounding tone, and snorts faintly. "Remind me, young man," she says, again pinning K'del with that teenager-quelling stare. "How many turns do you have? I seem to have forgotten."
Ouch. It's true, that's usually a very good way to get K'del where it hurts-- at this moment, though, it seems to be doing as much a good job of firing him up as embarrassing him. The blush may not help his cause, but at least his words are firm. "My age is hardly relevant, /Greenrider/."
"Mmmmhmmmm." Elie manages to contradict K'del without even using words. "And remind me," she drawls slowly, "how many turns you fought Thread?"
K'del is beginning to get pissed off, now; that much is clearly obvious. "I am /not/ going to rescind Gabrion's permission to stand, Greenrider, so you can stop trying to convince me otherwise."
"I'm simply trying to explain to you how things are /really/ done in a weyr," Elie says firmly. "Someone's told you what the rules are, and so you think you have to go by the book, and do things exactly the way you've been told they ought to be done. That's all well and good. But you're the weyrleader, for some reason none of us can fathom, and what you have to realize is that a /leader/ doesn't simply go by the book. Because sometimes there isn't one. Especially in Threadfall." A twitch of a bushy eyebrow reinforces the reminder that one of them knows Thread intimately, and the other does not. "A leader does what he needs to do. And if you're any kind of leader, you'll get the power to do it from somewhere - book be hanged. I've given a son to the cause of Pern's protection already. I don't intend to lose another. One is more than enough to ask of any mother. I'm sure you understand my position." She looks at him expectantly.
K'del is silent during that speech, and the only thing that really gives away his increasingly heady anger is the clenching of his fists atop the table. It's through extreme force of will - most likely - that he manages to keep his tone as civil as he does, when it's his turn to reply. "I am genuinely sorry that you lost a son," he tells her. "Genuinely. /But/. There is no thread. And it is your /son's/ choice to make, not yours. And as a leader, /that/ is my judgement on the matter. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to get used to the idea, because I happen to /hope/ that Gabrion Impresses. He's got a good head on his shoulders, and he knows what he wants."
That draws from Elie an expression that is vaguely related to a smile, but it's not a smile. It's more like a baring of teeth. Her eyes have gone eerily wide, and her face flushes. "Well. Your judgment as a /leader/. Is it?" Her voice is shaky with barely controlled anger. "This is not finished," she warns K'del. "I will be speaking with my son." She turns on her heel, and walks out. A moment later, a gentle-but-distracted mindtouch from Freyath conveys a sense of deeply sincere apology to Cadejoth, tinged liberally with worry. << She will not bother yours again >> she says. Then her presence fades as she returns all of her attention to the task of getting her rider back to her weyr and back to some semblance of reasonable-ness.
K'del is not actually shaking any less, but he, at least, is sitting down, and doesn't /have/ to say anything more. And he doesn't: he watches her go in cold, expressionless silence. What he /does/ do is send a weyrchild to deliver a message to Gabrion, reiterating that a message has gone out to Healer Hall, and he has the full sport of the Weyrleadership to stand, regardless of anything. Cadejoth's response to Freyath is understanding, and perhaps as equally apologetic: << We understand. We hope-- all will be well. >> A rattle of bones and chains marks his touch, though he lets her leave without pressing for anything more.