LOG: Ruling everything
Date: Day 9, Month 1, Turn 26
Location: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Tom and Rhae plot.
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
It's the middle of the night, actually, creeping on into morning, and very few people are up and around in the weyr. Rhaelyn sits alone near the fire that's still blazing away. The room is very warm, obviously she's been keeping the flame over-fed for some time. A plate of finger sandwiches and a bottle of wine sit nearby, her glass is almost empty though.
Enter Tom, barefoot, and looking as though he has recently been curled up in bed asleep. His hair is rumpled, waves flattened by the pillow, and his expression is inclined towards grumpy. He looks genuinely surprised to see Rhaelyn, and crosses immediately towards her, dropping to a lazy collapse in the chair opposite hers. "You're up late."
Rhaelyn startles up from her daydream at the unexpected sound of a body falling into the chair, "What do you think..." She snaps the words out before registering who it is, "Oh -Tom-, it's you." Happy enough to see the other exile. "I am just doing some thinking. Figured I could do it somewhere warm and -quiet-. No snivling brats in here. What are you doing up this early?"
Tomaeran aims an amused expression at Rhaelyn for her initial reaction to his presence; he seems somehow smug about it, to be honest. "Ever since he was sick, Riehvan's been snoring his arse off every night. He woke me up, I decided murdering him might help no one, I came here." It's very restrained of him, really. "What are you thinking about?"
Rhaelyn chuckles at the response Tomaeran returns to her for her greeting and rolls her eyes. She reaches for her glass of wine, "Care for something to drink? I may as well press on until morning. I wouldn't recomend the food though." Hovering near the wine in case he wants some she looks at him, bemused, "Since when did you become so thoughtful? Why didn't you launch a pillow at him?" His question gets a shrug, "Got lots of things on my mind."
Tomaeran's head shakes: no, presumably for the wine. He draws his feet up onto the edge of his chair, instead, wrapping arms around his trousered legs and leaning his head upon his raised knees. "Oh, I tried that, too. He sleeps like the dead, honestly. I was going to smother him with the pillow-- but that's when I decided that might look bad. For us. /I/ don't want them thinking of us as criminals." His brows raise, presumably intending to encourage further explanations. "What? About how you're going to get a gold dragon out of that flight or something?"
Grinning, Rhae draws her wine glass to her, settling back into the chair, "You should drag him and the cot out of doors. Imagine his face when he wakes up with his mouth full of snow." And the payback would be wonderful. The smile from behind the wineglass is cruel for a moment before she takes a sip. "Thinking about ... what?" The way she says it, grasping at his question, suggests that she her mind was fixed on another problem. "Have you thought about such things?"
Splaying his fingers over his legs, Tom smirks. "That," he tells Rhaelyn, contentedly. "Would be amazing. Pity there's no way we could get the cot out there." Note the 'we', of course. Something glints in his expression at her reaction to his last suggestion, though he raises his eyebrows as he says, "No? Not for you. Shells, I don't know. But it seems like the riders around here are the ones who get the perks. The /bronze/ and the /gold/ riders, mostly. And everyone keeps saying that since that senior gold rose, there are going to be eggs."
"I am sure with some creative moving, we could get it out there." Rhaelyn is confident, where there is a will to make trouble, she'd make a way for it. Another sip of wine glosses over her reaction to him not thinking of 'her' and promoting 'her', such a pitty. "Well, you're right about that. That goldrider that keeps that beast that made the weyr crazy, she told me she owns this place. Now wouldn't -that- be something? But surely they won't let us anywhere near them eggs. I didn't think....honestly, I've been so caught up on....other things. What have you heard?"
Tomaeran's smile, though, is too lazy for that; there's no will there. "To own this place? Shells, yes. I bet you and I could do a better job; better than the kid and the bitch." He allows, however, "I don't know if they'd let us anywhere near them. Shells, though, I intend to /try/. No one's said anything either way about us, but from what I hear, the dragons choose people to stand. So... I don't know. Maybe we could find riders interested in giving us a go." Beat. "What /have/ you been thinking about, then?"
Rhaelyn smirks and though she knows no one else is around, her eyes still shift back and forth before settling, "You're not wrong certainly, but better not to wag your tongue so freely I think." She's come a long way from speaking her mind, keeping everything closer to the vest now. "The bitch as you call her, thinks she can see right through me. Thinks she's so clever." Her gaze drops to the wine glass and she sighs softly, "I am trying to find a way here. I want my own room. My own 'things'. I went and applied for the Harpers." She smirks a touch at that, at her being a Harper, mostly because of 'why' she's doing it. "They didn't say right away if they liked me. I don't know how long such things take."
Shrugging his shoulders, Tom declares, "There's no one but us here, right now. It's not like I intend to walk up to their leaders and announce that I intend to replace them. I get it: we have to work together for now, and make sure we get the advantage later. But I /intend/ to get the advantage." It's a long speech, and it leaves him silent at the end of it for several long moments before he adds, "The harpers? Shells. You and that harper girl working together?" He must mean Emmeline. "They'd be morons not to take you. They took /her/."
Not forgetting what Tom had asked before, Rhae adds a sly smile, "I have made friends with two dragonriders and even touched one of their dragons." Her eyes twinkle, "Perhaps it will put me on good footing to be asked to have an egg." Her eagerness shows in the nod of her head, "You and I would be much better rulers. We could make those holders /pay/." She chews at her lower lip, uncertain about how much to share, even with her partner in previous crimes. "I wouldn't work with her. I would do my own thing. Can you imagine her -face- though? When she sees me there in her classes? After all those turns when I wasn't 'good enough' to learn her harpering ways."
Tomaeran's head gets tipped towards Rhaelyn, approvingly. "There you go. You're making progress already. Just don't go and leave me behind, you hear?" He seems comfortable enough with what she /has/ shared, his expression no longer seeking out more information. "I wish I could be there, when you are," he tells her, apparently genuine in that much. The smugness has returned. "You'll be an excellent harper. And it'll be an excellent preparation for when we take over this weyr." None of which says anything about what /he/ is doing to prepare himself. Or in general.
"If you wouldn't be out 'hiding' all the time." Is the dark-haired woman's cool reply as she sips her wine gingerly. "What have you been doing to keep yourself so scarce? I half thought you ran off with those half-wit savages." thick contempt for her foolish, exile brethren. "Thank you for your support. I will be sure to speak highly of you once I read Master rank." A timespan she expects to be short from her tone.
"Me?" Tomaeran sounds genuinely surprised. "The only hiding /I/ have been doing it staying out of the way of people who seem to think I ought to be working." He gives Rhaelyn a sidelong look, then shakes his head, apparently dismissing something. "You'd better, anyway. Got to know who your friends are, right? I'm sure there will be things I can do for you, when the time comes."
Rhaelyn admits quietly, putting her drink aside now, "I have found a very good way of making it look as though you're busy. Although, I'm not sure that you'd like it. Or you might." Her look takes on a sharper edge, "I hear both sexes of dragon-folk like men." One leg swings lazily, her skirt coming up over one ankle. "Anyway--will you make me a deal? Will you share information with me if you get it? About how we can win those eggs for our people? Against their will if we must. Can you imagine how we could change this place?" There's more than a hint that she really has tossed the idea around in the back of her mind, just guarded her thoughts too carefully until now.
Anger darkens Tomaeran's expression. "If you're going to be like that, then maybe we /can't/ work together," he snaps, already beginning to unfurl his limbs as if he intends to leave. "How /dare/ you."
Rhaelyn rolls her eyes, not phased at all, "Oh Tom. Sit down." Her voice silky sooth. She judges if he's going to draw out and only then leans forward to try to brush up against his hand, "Wait...I only said it because I heard one of our boys got mixed up with a rider-boy."
Mollified, but not entirely calm, Tom says, "Well, it /wasn't/ me. Never. That's absolutely disgusting." The petulance in his tone doesn't fade, even though he settles back on his chair, fastening a wary glance at the other exile. "If you say things like that, I won't be sharing anything. But... yes. Yes, we can work together. If you don't."
Rhaelyn pulls Tom closer, "Aawww, "Tommy." She laughs softly at the petulance and pulls again, showing that the wine is affecting her. "Honestly, do you think I'd bait you if I thought it were YOU? I wanted to share the news with you is all." And have some sport while she's at it. Once he's sitting again, and staying, she curls back into her chair. "I'll share my information if you share yours. Two works better than one."
The wariness in Tom's tone turns into something more difficult to define as Rhaelyn pulls him closer; he doesn't resist, though, and ultimately settles back down. A short, sharp nod seems to indicate his resolve. "Next time, don't imply such things," he tells her, a little sharply, but calm. "Much better. It's a deal, then. Together, between us, we'll work out how to make it happen. Even if I have to debase myself in front of /them/." Disgust highlights itself in his tone, but so, too, does resolve. "We're going to rule everything."
"Oh please. You've known me long enough to know that I can't help it sometimes." Trying Tomaeran's patience that is, and most other people's too. Looking pleased about this union she smiles to herself. "And take everything we want. Make them pay." A lock of hair twists between her fingers, her gaze far away. "Who else do you think would be willing to work with us?"
Tomaeran fixes a bland expression on Rhaelyn. "And you know me well enough that if you do it too often, I'll just walk away." He won't. But he seems to mean it. For the rest, though, he has only a shake of his head; he doesn't seem sure. "I'll think about it. It has to be the right people: the ones who aren't always wailing about how awful things are, but who aren't... I don't know. Sitting back and taking it, either."
"But the ones who wail...if they could be made to have an egg....ah, impress the dragons...they would be bound. Wouldn't they? They couldn't just leave by themselves. They would have to follow the leader." In this particular 'script' Him and Her as key figures. "Wouldn't they? The dragon rider E'dre says his dragon isn't very nice but he would do anything to keep him safe."
Frowning, Tom hesitates before answering. Slowly, he allows, "I suppose so? I don't know. I haven't really made much of an effort to-- if that's true, then all we have to do is push everyone into it. Like... onto the sands? Or however it happens. I think we'd better find out more about that. And then we could have the whole lot of them. And then we really /would/ have all the power." The idea seems to please him: a smug smile spreads across the contours of his face.
The response from Tomaeran makes Rhae smile ever so sweetly. "I will ask more questions. Perhaps you can drop a word with your uncle and see how he and the elders are feeling about our people on dragons? Or?" Her voice trails off, "What if we made a rumor that the elders wanted everyone to make themselves available to the dragons if asked." Even if they have to bend the truth their direction.
"You do that," says Tom, firmly; his plotting hat is on. "And I--" trailing off, he pauses, evidently thinking on it. "I will talk to Jaques. I think he and I should spend some time together, anyway; I know Evie's still pretty upset. He might be able to help with my uncle. And if he can't," he nods, firmly. "/Then/ we start a rumour."
Rhaelyn's hand comes up to her lips, "I'm sure some story about the: 'Sea being upset by not obeying' or some-such rot like that would go a long way with some of those non-bathers." Re-collecting herself, she pretends to cough into her hand. "Jaques. Right. And Devaki? To see where he weighs in with things?" She uncoils from her chair with a yawn at last, "I think that I will try to catch a little sleep before checking in with the Harpers."
Tomaeran's eyes roll, but he nods. Several times, even. "Sleep well, Rhae. Throw my pillow at Rievhan again, if you need to."
Location: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Tom and Rhae plot.
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
It's the middle of the night, actually, creeping on into morning, and very few people are up and around in the weyr. Rhaelyn sits alone near the fire that's still blazing away. The room is very warm, obviously she's been keeping the flame over-fed for some time. A plate of finger sandwiches and a bottle of wine sit nearby, her glass is almost empty though.
Enter Tom, barefoot, and looking as though he has recently been curled up in bed asleep. His hair is rumpled, waves flattened by the pillow, and his expression is inclined towards grumpy. He looks genuinely surprised to see Rhaelyn, and crosses immediately towards her, dropping to a lazy collapse in the chair opposite hers. "You're up late."
Rhaelyn startles up from her daydream at the unexpected sound of a body falling into the chair, "What do you think..." She snaps the words out before registering who it is, "Oh -Tom-, it's you." Happy enough to see the other exile. "I am just doing some thinking. Figured I could do it somewhere warm and -quiet-. No snivling brats in here. What are you doing up this early?"
Tomaeran aims an amused expression at Rhaelyn for her initial reaction to his presence; he seems somehow smug about it, to be honest. "Ever since he was sick, Riehvan's been snoring his arse off every night. He woke me up, I decided murdering him might help no one, I came here." It's very restrained of him, really. "What are you thinking about?"
Rhaelyn chuckles at the response Tomaeran returns to her for her greeting and rolls her eyes. She reaches for her glass of wine, "Care for something to drink? I may as well press on until morning. I wouldn't recomend the food though." Hovering near the wine in case he wants some she looks at him, bemused, "Since when did you become so thoughtful? Why didn't you launch a pillow at him?" His question gets a shrug, "Got lots of things on my mind."
Tomaeran's head shakes: no, presumably for the wine. He draws his feet up onto the edge of his chair, instead, wrapping arms around his trousered legs and leaning his head upon his raised knees. "Oh, I tried that, too. He sleeps like the dead, honestly. I was going to smother him with the pillow-- but that's when I decided that might look bad. For us. /I/ don't want them thinking of us as criminals." His brows raise, presumably intending to encourage further explanations. "What? About how you're going to get a gold dragon out of that flight or something?"
Grinning, Rhae draws her wine glass to her, settling back into the chair, "You should drag him and the cot out of doors. Imagine his face when he wakes up with his mouth full of snow." And the payback would be wonderful. The smile from behind the wineglass is cruel for a moment before she takes a sip. "Thinking about ... what?" The way she says it, grasping at his question, suggests that she her mind was fixed on another problem. "Have you thought about such things?"
Splaying his fingers over his legs, Tom smirks. "That," he tells Rhaelyn, contentedly. "Would be amazing. Pity there's no way we could get the cot out there." Note the 'we', of course. Something glints in his expression at her reaction to his last suggestion, though he raises his eyebrows as he says, "No? Not for you. Shells, I don't know. But it seems like the riders around here are the ones who get the perks. The /bronze/ and the /gold/ riders, mostly. And everyone keeps saying that since that senior gold rose, there are going to be eggs."
"I am sure with some creative moving, we could get it out there." Rhaelyn is confident, where there is a will to make trouble, she'd make a way for it. Another sip of wine glosses over her reaction to him not thinking of 'her' and promoting 'her', such a pitty. "Well, you're right about that. That goldrider that keeps that beast that made the weyr crazy, she told me she owns this place. Now wouldn't -that- be something? But surely they won't let us anywhere near them eggs. I didn't think....honestly, I've been so caught up on....other things. What have you heard?"
Tomaeran's smile, though, is too lazy for that; there's no will there. "To own this place? Shells, yes. I bet you and I could do a better job; better than the kid and the bitch." He allows, however, "I don't know if they'd let us anywhere near them. Shells, though, I intend to /try/. No one's said anything either way about us, but from what I hear, the dragons choose people to stand. So... I don't know. Maybe we could find riders interested in giving us a go." Beat. "What /have/ you been thinking about, then?"
Rhaelyn smirks and though she knows no one else is around, her eyes still shift back and forth before settling, "You're not wrong certainly, but better not to wag your tongue so freely I think." She's come a long way from speaking her mind, keeping everything closer to the vest now. "The bitch as you call her, thinks she can see right through me. Thinks she's so clever." Her gaze drops to the wine glass and she sighs softly, "I am trying to find a way here. I want my own room. My own 'things'. I went and applied for the Harpers." She smirks a touch at that, at her being a Harper, mostly because of 'why' she's doing it. "They didn't say right away if they liked me. I don't know how long such things take."
Shrugging his shoulders, Tom declares, "There's no one but us here, right now. It's not like I intend to walk up to their leaders and announce that I intend to replace them. I get it: we have to work together for now, and make sure we get the advantage later. But I /intend/ to get the advantage." It's a long speech, and it leaves him silent at the end of it for several long moments before he adds, "The harpers? Shells. You and that harper girl working together?" He must mean Emmeline. "They'd be morons not to take you. They took /her/."
Not forgetting what Tom had asked before, Rhae adds a sly smile, "I have made friends with two dragonriders and even touched one of their dragons." Her eyes twinkle, "Perhaps it will put me on good footing to be asked to have an egg." Her eagerness shows in the nod of her head, "You and I would be much better rulers. We could make those holders /pay/." She chews at her lower lip, uncertain about how much to share, even with her partner in previous crimes. "I wouldn't work with her. I would do my own thing. Can you imagine her -face- though? When she sees me there in her classes? After all those turns when I wasn't 'good enough' to learn her harpering ways."
Tomaeran's head gets tipped towards Rhaelyn, approvingly. "There you go. You're making progress already. Just don't go and leave me behind, you hear?" He seems comfortable enough with what she /has/ shared, his expression no longer seeking out more information. "I wish I could be there, when you are," he tells her, apparently genuine in that much. The smugness has returned. "You'll be an excellent harper. And it'll be an excellent preparation for when we take over this weyr." None of which says anything about what /he/ is doing to prepare himself. Or in general.
"If you wouldn't be out 'hiding' all the time." Is the dark-haired woman's cool reply as she sips her wine gingerly. "What have you been doing to keep yourself so scarce? I half thought you ran off with those half-wit savages." thick contempt for her foolish, exile brethren. "Thank you for your support. I will be sure to speak highly of you once I read Master rank." A timespan she expects to be short from her tone.
"Me?" Tomaeran sounds genuinely surprised. "The only hiding /I/ have been doing it staying out of the way of people who seem to think I ought to be working." He gives Rhaelyn a sidelong look, then shakes his head, apparently dismissing something. "You'd better, anyway. Got to know who your friends are, right? I'm sure there will be things I can do for you, when the time comes."
Rhaelyn admits quietly, putting her drink aside now, "I have found a very good way of making it look as though you're busy. Although, I'm not sure that you'd like it. Or you might." Her look takes on a sharper edge, "I hear both sexes of dragon-folk like men." One leg swings lazily, her skirt coming up over one ankle. "Anyway--will you make me a deal? Will you share information with me if you get it? About how we can win those eggs for our people? Against their will if we must. Can you imagine how we could change this place?" There's more than a hint that she really has tossed the idea around in the back of her mind, just guarded her thoughts too carefully until now.
Anger darkens Tomaeran's expression. "If you're going to be like that, then maybe we /can't/ work together," he snaps, already beginning to unfurl his limbs as if he intends to leave. "How /dare/ you."
Rhaelyn rolls her eyes, not phased at all, "Oh Tom. Sit down." Her voice silky sooth. She judges if he's going to draw out and only then leans forward to try to brush up against his hand, "Wait...I only said it because I heard one of our boys got mixed up with a rider-boy."
Mollified, but not entirely calm, Tom says, "Well, it /wasn't/ me. Never. That's absolutely disgusting." The petulance in his tone doesn't fade, even though he settles back on his chair, fastening a wary glance at the other exile. "If you say things like that, I won't be sharing anything. But... yes. Yes, we can work together. If you don't."
Rhaelyn pulls Tom closer, "Aawww, "Tommy." She laughs softly at the petulance and pulls again, showing that the wine is affecting her. "Honestly, do you think I'd bait you if I thought it were YOU? I wanted to share the news with you is all." And have some sport while she's at it. Once he's sitting again, and staying, she curls back into her chair. "I'll share my information if you share yours. Two works better than one."
The wariness in Tom's tone turns into something more difficult to define as Rhaelyn pulls him closer; he doesn't resist, though, and ultimately settles back down. A short, sharp nod seems to indicate his resolve. "Next time, don't imply such things," he tells her, a little sharply, but calm. "Much better. It's a deal, then. Together, between us, we'll work out how to make it happen. Even if I have to debase myself in front of /them/." Disgust highlights itself in his tone, but so, too, does resolve. "We're going to rule everything."
"Oh please. You've known me long enough to know that I can't help it sometimes." Trying Tomaeran's patience that is, and most other people's too. Looking pleased about this union she smiles to herself. "And take everything we want. Make them pay." A lock of hair twists between her fingers, her gaze far away. "Who else do you think would be willing to work with us?"
Tomaeran fixes a bland expression on Rhaelyn. "And you know me well enough that if you do it too often, I'll just walk away." He won't. But he seems to mean it. For the rest, though, he has only a shake of his head; he doesn't seem sure. "I'll think about it. It has to be the right people: the ones who aren't always wailing about how awful things are, but who aren't... I don't know. Sitting back and taking it, either."
"But the ones who wail...if they could be made to have an egg....ah, impress the dragons...they would be bound. Wouldn't they? They couldn't just leave by themselves. They would have to follow the leader." In this particular 'script' Him and Her as key figures. "Wouldn't they? The dragon rider E'dre says his dragon isn't very nice but he would do anything to keep him safe."
Frowning, Tom hesitates before answering. Slowly, he allows, "I suppose so? I don't know. I haven't really made much of an effort to-- if that's true, then all we have to do is push everyone into it. Like... onto the sands? Or however it happens. I think we'd better find out more about that. And then we could have the whole lot of them. And then we really /would/ have all the power." The idea seems to please him: a smug smile spreads across the contours of his face.
The response from Tomaeran makes Rhae smile ever so sweetly. "I will ask more questions. Perhaps you can drop a word with your uncle and see how he and the elders are feeling about our people on dragons? Or?" Her voice trails off, "What if we made a rumor that the elders wanted everyone to make themselves available to the dragons if asked." Even if they have to bend the truth their direction.
"You do that," says Tom, firmly; his plotting hat is on. "And I--" trailing off, he pauses, evidently thinking on it. "I will talk to Jaques. I think he and I should spend some time together, anyway; I know Evie's still pretty upset. He might be able to help with my uncle. And if he can't," he nods, firmly. "/Then/ we start a rumour."
Rhaelyn's hand comes up to her lips, "I'm sure some story about the: 'Sea being upset by not obeying' or some-such rot like that would go a long way with some of those non-bathers." Re-collecting herself, she pretends to cough into her hand. "Jaques. Right. And Devaki? To see where he weighs in with things?" She uncoils from her chair with a yawn at last, "I think that I will try to catch a little sleep before checking in with the Harpers."
Tomaeran's eyes roll, but he nods. Several times, even. "Sleep well, Rhae. Throw my pillow at Rievhan again, if you need to."