LOG: Unforgiven
Date: Day 27, Month 11, Turn 26
Location: Stables, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: K'del catches Iolene hiding in the stables.
Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
Stables, High Reaches Weyr
Taking advantage of a natural overhang in the side of the mountain for its roof, this building boasts sturdy stone construction braced by beams of tough-as-nails skybroom. Just inside a pair of broad doors, the ceiling rises a full two stories high for the full length and half the width of the building. Beneath the overhang, wide windows admit light and more fresh air, while opposite is the second-story hayloft.
The stables' main focus, however, is the double rows of stalls that line the walls below: one large stall serving as tack room, the rest housing a remarkable variety of beasts. (+views)
There aren't many places in the Weyr a person can hide and not be found, eventually, but probably the last place most people might search is the hayloft. So it's up there that Io's carved out a little peaceful nook of study. On her belly, legs up in the air, and her blonde hair falling into her face. But if she's truly hiding, she's not doing a great job of it, as she's perched just along the beams that overlook the stable itself. And if she's truly studying, she's also not doing a great job of that as she keeps getting distracted by the animals and people below, particularly throwing things at a particularly cute stablehand. It's raining hay.
The stables are not a common haunt of K'del's: no doubt he rode runners, once upon a time, but Cadejoth has rather put an end to that. Still, master of his domain as he is, this afternoon finds him on his way in on a visit, accompanied by the stablemaster - a grey-bearded man old enough to be the Weyrleader's father. Their conversation is quiet and formal, but as hay keeps raining down not far from them, the young bronzerider can't seem to help but to glance upwards, seeking - if he can - the identity of the assailant.
There's an indolent smile on Iolene's face, what's visible of it at any rate, which from K'del's vantage point might only be delighted dark blue eyes, a high brow, and a cloud of blonde hair, She hasn't noticed that her hay rain of terror has been spotted by anyone other than the intended victim, who is abashedly working on grooming a runner. The runner is more bothered by the hay that keeps falling into his face, twitching about the nose and ears whenever a piece grazes against his body. A giggle escapes the blonde high above and when the boy turns to look, she ducks so only the top of her head can be seen.
Whatever his business with the stablemaster, it doesn't take long: within a matter of minutes, the older man is on his way, and K'del-- K'del hesitates, his gaze flicking back towards the now-hiding Iolene. His brow furrows, just ever so slightly, and then, heedless of the fact that he's now being stared at by some of those working in the stables (not to mention a handful of runners), he crosses the room, and begins to climb the ladder. He's not exactly subtle about it, either: his boots clomp, the ladder rattles.
It'd be hard to miss all those telltale signs of someone coming up, but by the time Iolene peeks upwards, just those blue eyes to look over the edge, the person coming up that ladder isn't on the ground anymore. And it's certainly not the cute stablehand which leaves the blonde teenager confused, and a little apprehensive. /Someone/ is coming up that ladder and there's not many places to hide except behind a big bale of hay, which isn't quite enough cover for a lanky girl.
As if he can read her mind, K'del speaks up, right about then, keeping his voice low, but still conversational. "You don't have to hide or anything." Beat. His head appears over the edge, and he looks-- faintly amused? And also, faintly concerned. "Thought it might be you. Hello, Iolene." Without waiting for a reaction, the tall Weyrleader hoists himself up into the loft and off of the ladder, crouching low with both hands hanging down towards the floor beneath him.
She might not have recognized the gait coming up, those boots clomping against the floor and the rattling ladder being a rather specific sort of thing that isn't heard often. But that voice? It's all too familiar and it stills Iolene's not-so-hidden body. The recognition that she can't /hide/ here, especially when called out, sinks in a long silent moment later, but it doesn't hurry Io from crawling out from behind that bale. Instead, from behind there, she calls out, "I was trying to find some place quiet to study, unbothered." /See/, a small stack of papers rises above the top of the hay and waves around, there's real work going on here.
"Okay," is K'del's answer, unbothered, not that it sends him back down the ladder or anything: in fact, he stays right where he is, seeking her out with his gaze through the hay. "That you telling me to go away and leave you to your," beat, "study? Just thought I'd say hi. See how things were going, maybe." Because he's heard nothing at all-- or perhaps rather more than that. "Not aiming to get you in trouble, anyway, if that's what you think."
If he could only see her, K'del might see Iolene's face vacillate, warring between the friendly face K'del has been in the past and her skewed perception of Weyr life now. But, the loft isn't big enough for her to remain hiding with K'del out there and slowly, the blonde head of hair peeks out from the side, a sheepish smile on her face. "I don't know why I hid. I thought you might be the stablemaster telling me not to bother his workers anymore," which might mean she does this quite often and /that/ happens quite often, "Hi," says the hay-strewn weyrling, her free hand lifted in a wave. "Don't go. I wanted to talk to you for a while but you always seem busy and I'm always busy and..."
Regardless of anything else he might be feeling right about now, K'del is clearly distinctly amused by the fact that Iolene is apparently regularly told off for 'bothering' the stablehands. Except that that brings him back - or so it seems, from his expression - to something /else/, and draws his expression tighter all over again. A beat; then, he nods, settling down cross-legged on the hayloft floor. "Not quite the location I invisioned for answering more of your questions, but-- if you need something, Iolene, you shouldn't be afraid to come and ask. I'm not too busy for that."
"No questions. Well," Iolene has the grace have a smile accompany her flush. "Maybe, but nothing off the top of my head. How are you?" Pause. "Wait, that's a question but not really a question, right?" On fours, she crawls over the rest of the way to where K'del sits and takes her own cross-legged spot not far from the Weyrleader. The transition from amused to tense is lost on Iolene, for now and those dark eyes look with something akin to open amusement at the bronzerider. It's either amusement or some semblance of happiness. "How are you?"
K'del's brows raise, though, surely, he's mostly teasing: "No questions? I've been supplanted." His hands drape loosely over his knees; he has surprisingly good posture, too, even in this position. "I'm well," he says in answer to her question. "The tithes have all come in, no problems, so-- that's a weight off my shoulders. Winter's coming, but we're prepared. My kids are healthy. Cadejoth's happy." His shoulders shrug: what more can he ask for? "How are /you/?"
"S'thyn doesn't really answer questions," is Iolene's response to being supplanted, what might pass for reassurance flitting across her face and then settles into the lightest of teases. "If I had real questions, I promise, I'll only come ask you. But since you asked, I'm doing well I think. Everyone-, /everyone/, keeps trying to help me and I don't really know if they should. I don't really know what I'm doing or what I should be learning and a lot of it is-" She doesn't have to say it likely, it's written all over her face: she's in way over her head. "But I'm trying." And hiding. "But sometimes, it's hard to sit in there and have people whisper about how I should be trained and how I'm not, and then having E'gin and Quinlys pass me notes and tell me what they think I should know. Do people tell you what they think you should know too? Tell you want to do?"
S'thyn. There goes K'del's expression again; a faint twitch. But, "You'd better. No one likes to be replaced." /That/ teasing remark, however, does not stop the seriousness from creeping back in, and his hands from tightening upon his knees, gripping as though that might give him-- something. Whatever it is he needs. "They certainly did when I first became Weyrleader," he says, quietly, eventually. "It's hard, isn't it? Daunting. And har-- well." Whatever he was going to say, he stops short at it, and says, instead, "It does get easier. Most things do. Nothing is ever as bad or as hard as it seems."
A tired little hand finds her face, smearing against and rubbing at her cheek. "I'm glad to know that. Right now," Iolene sighs a little and flops backwards into the hay, still cross-legged. "Right now I just want to go somewhere warm and look up at the stars until my mind goes completely blank. So blank. Too blank for even Ysavaeth to find any lingering thought there. Do you ever wish you could have a moment of quiet away from Cadejoth? Does thinking this make me a bad dragonrider? I hurt her once, did you know?" Or many times, but only once of importance.
Were you expecting it? Is it surprising that it took this long? Quietly, but with feeling: "Oh, Iolene." He hasn't graduated to nicknames with her yet; the sentiment, though, is very much there. K'del's gaze follows Iolene as she flops backwards, though he makes no move to shift his own position. "Yes," he says. A pause. "I mean, rather, yes, I used to wish that a lot, particularly when we were weyrlings. It's better, now. What did you do to hurt her?"
"I told Jaques that I wish we were never rescued. That I could live blissful on the island, even cold and hungry as we were sometimes, /blissful/ with a husband and a family. I want-," Iolene's seventeen year old voice that shouldn't know what she wants cracks in that painful sad sort of way, "I want children. I want babies." She won't say it, but she might have wanted specific babies. "And I think. I know I meant it then. That I would have traded Ysavaeth for the chance to live normally." Or her version of normal. "And- I don't know if she's ever forgiven me." The last is quiet, that sort of moment's realization where a piece finally clicks in the puzzle of Iolene and Ysavaeth's relationship.
K'del is silent, after that, looking, now, not at Iolene, but at that hay bale towards the back of the loft. The silence lasts long enough that it may, briefly, seem as though he isn't going to say anything. Finally, though; "Do you still mean it? Iolene."
Quietly, almost as if she's afraid Ysavaeth might be listening in despite the afternoon nap the gold's taking elsewhere, Iolene answers after the longest silence where her breath is the only sounds up in the hayloft, though below is another story. "Sometimes. And I think she knows. But I miss my grandmother and my grandfather. I miss- I miss being happy. She makes me happy, she's everything. But..." Some, after such a confession to the _Weyrleader_ might not be able to meet his eyes. Io, on the other hand, turns her head in the hay to look at K'del with an earnest sort of plea in her eyes. Please don't hate her.
K'del is oh-so clearly troubled by these revelations - perhaps even floored by them. Despite his discomfort and unease, however, he's not unwilling to meet Iolene's eyes all the same, conveying, somehow, an enormous amount of sympathy-- and perhaps an equal dose of pity. "It's been an overwhelming turn for you, hasn't it." Not a question. "Everything changed. And I guess we haven't helped much; all of this." He sucks in a deep breath, studying her cautiously. "Is there anything we can do, to make things easier on you?"
"Could I go home?" is Iolene's very quiet, very tiny, very quickly spoken request, almost as if she's afraid of it being denied even before she can get it all out. It's nearing the one year anniversary of their rescue, not that Iolene would remember dates or know. It's been a long time is enough to suffice for her deep-rooted homesickness. "I mean, not forever. But... we never thought that would be the last time we'd see our island." They were supposed to go back, eventually.
It's pretty obvious that K'del jumps to the wrong conclusion on that request, at least at first: he's opening his mouth to respond even as Iolene is clarifying. The clarification strikes him dumb, silent except for the audible swallow that follows. His hands flatten stiffly on his knees, and, finally, "I'm sorry. That we took you away, and--" Never took you back. He doesn't get that far, though. "I think we could take you back." He sounds thoughtful, too, now. "It's too far to fly straight, so either-- a group could go, adult dragons taking you Between. Or just you, I guess, but it seems like maybe the others would want to go... Or if you could wait-- hm. That, or we send you all camping there, in a few months. After you can Between." All of them. Exile weyrlings and not exile weyrlings.
"Could we? Could I now?" Perhaps Iolene has a better sense of time than she lets on. "I'd like to take Tom with me if I can." The lanky blonde gets slowly up, her arms bracing her leaned backwards position before she comes up fully to crawl on all fours to K'del. Her stop sets her back onto her knees and she looks to the Weyrleader. "Please? We can go again? You can take us or maybe S'thyn can or that brownrider down in the barracks with us. E'dre!" She remembers the name at the last minute, both triumph and hope bringing a different sort of happiness to her voice. "Please? His- his sister died on the islands, last turn, around this time. Please?"
The name 'Tom' doesn't necessarily ring a bell, but Iolene's current happiness makes it likely that K'del will agree to just about anything - anything, in the hopes that this version of the weyrling stays current. "Tom," he agrees. "Sure." If he seems less sure about S'thyn - or E'dre, for that matter - he's not /completely/ obvious about it and says, instead, "I'll take you, or we'll find someone who can. One way or another. I promise, Iolene. Just let me get it organised, and clear it with Meara, okay?" He's smiling at her, though, and there's a certain amount of apparent /relief/ in his expression.
"Oh, K'del!" So pleased, Iolene throws herself at the other rider and gives him a hug designed to push him over. It might even result in a laugh that causes people in the stables to look up bemused. "Yay."
It's a good thing there's hay all over the floor, because (even though it really probably shouldn't) Iolene's hug takes K'del by surprise, and propels him backwards sharply. He's grinning, though, albeit with a small amount of bemusement of his own, as he returns the hug with a light squeeze. "Glad to help," he tells her, genuinely.
She should have asked for the world. If only she knew how close she was to getting anything her little heart desired. Instead, Iolene merely (or not so merely) smiles down at K'del, with that spark in her eyes of something to look forward to. "Can I ask a question?" Of course she wants to.
Her loss! Mistake. Something. That question, though? It makes K'del laugh - unrestrained, utterly amused. "Of course you can."
"Do you not like S'thyn?" Iolene asks, a genuine sort of innocence drawing up question marks of her brows. "You look like you have bugs in your pants whenever I mention his name. See, watch, S'thyn. S'thyn." The name is uttered twice as she looks down upon him, watchfully waiting for those twitches.
But there are no twitches, this time, only an eyebrow raised glance. The laughter has stopped, though, and K'del pauses obviously before he speaks. "No, actually; I like him fine. He's a pleasant enough guy. Just not sure-- why do you like him so much?"
Iolene tumbles off her half-hug, half-sprawl on K'del and turns to study the bustle of the stables below. "He- doesn't care who I am. Or what I am. Or what he thinks I am. You still do, even when you're being nice. Everyone else seems to have an opinion and he doesn't. He's... simple." It might not be the most flattering descriptive of the greenrider.
No longer sprawled upon, K'del shifts back into a seated position, his head turned so that he can watch Iolene rather than the stables below. "Ah," he says, finally; whether or not he really understands is more difficult to discern. "Like why I take my knot off when I get to far off gathers, sometimes."
"Does that really work?" asks Iolene, turning from staring at the cute stablehand below, the one who lingers long past his quitting time, to turn and look to K'del.
K'del's answer is honest: "Sometimes." A pause, and then, "Sometimes, people know who I am, anyway. But if you pick somewhere remote... It's easier to be just another person." He looks sad as he adds, "But it's better when there's someone who really cares about you, who doesn't care about any of it, and just cares about you for you."
Iolene is quiet a long time. She's no longer looking to K'del or the cute stablehand who, after a glance up to find the weyrling goldrider with the Weyrleader flushes and traipses off. When she speaks, it's quiet again, a little sad, and spoken to the arms that drape over her bent knees. "I know."
It's a trap K'del didn't know was there; he looks awkward, now, and glances away from the saddened weyrling to stare at the straw at his feet. "I'm sorry." He's clearly not entirely sure what for, but the words are genuine nonetheless.
"No, it's ok. I know it's better that way but," Iolene shrugs a little and adopts her brave face for K'del's awkwardness. "Sometimes. I guess... I don't want to wait for that anymore. Besides. There's too many pretty girls here for me to compete with." A smile pushes itself out as the 'real' reasons for why she doesn't want to stay at High Reaches emerge. "There weren't as many on the island, y'know? It's-," but if that fails to convince her hayloft companion, she'll concede, "- I know. Thank you. For worrying about me."
K'del looks-- faintly amused, somehow, but not convinced. At least, cheerfully, "The nice thing about the weyr is that you don't have to wait around for the right one, I guess." Beat. "Once you're allowed to, anyway." Is it a quiet chiding? Does he even know? "I do worry about you. And-- if you need things, you know where I am, okay? I feel bad." It's a round-about-way of saying 'you're welcome', presumably.
Chides only work when you know you've done wrong. Iolene? Oblivious enough to ask, albeit in a tease, "So you'd sleep with me if I asked?" But at least she's smiling again, maybe even laughing a little, even as she's flopped backwards into the hay again. "Maybe I'll become the first goldrider to join a fighting wing." Cause clearly, Tiriana will just never let her fly in the queens' wing or actually be a weyrwoman.
Hasn't Iolene /heard/ K'del's reputation? His answer comes with a crooked little smile; he might be teasing. He might not be. "After you're allowed to, sure." At least she's smiling again, even if the rest of what she has to say doesn't make the Weyrleader all that thrilled. "It won't-- don't think it'll come to that. Sweeps are boring, anyway. Believe me, you probably don't want in on that."
"Sweeps mean I can fly out of here, doesn't it?" Iolene looks to the rafters, her chin bobbling as if counting something up there. "I never see Rielsath or Iovniath or Iski-," a beat doesn't complete that name. "They never seem to leave much."
Iskiveth. A pause from K'del; his expression is unreadable. "Yeah, but it's enforced flying. The others-- they /can/ fly out. They just don't always do so. No one's going to force you to stay within the weyr, at least once you're cleared for flight."
"Oh. So they're allowed to but they don't." Iolene parses this and considers aloud. "Is it because they're busy?" Because if it is, that not so subtle trail off of her voice might indicate there's even more reasons not to become a weyrwoman for real.
There's a fine line here, and K'del's pause before he answers must make him teeter in one direction on it. But: "Well, they're a bit busy. But not so busy they can't leave, no. I mean /I/ do, and I guess I'm more busy than Lujayn is? Three Weyrwomen would make more time for everyone."
"What are you busy with?" Iolene, for all she's seen him being Weyrleader and learned her exile-rehabilitation and weyrling lessons, has to ask.
K'del can't help but raise his eyebrows, ever so slightly, in Iolene's direction in receipt of that question. He'll answer it, though, and without sounding too teacher-y about it. "The wings are my responsibility, and dealing with the Holds and Crafts in the sweep area. Problems with riders get passed up to me, problems between the weyr and the rest of the sweep area, problems with weyrlings... It's a lot of making nice with people. But solving problems, too. Making sure the weyr doesn't starve."
Iolene's, "High Reaches Hold?" comes off more pointed than the teenager might actually be capable of. Then she latches onto something else, "Problems with weyrlings." Which just begs to have a question attached to it, but for now, the young woman restrains herself.
A pause. "Sometimes." sometimes, High Reaches Hold. "We have a reasonable relationship with them, generally. Sometimes less so." K'del doesn't seem terribly inclined to give out too many details on that front, and his expression remains neutral. "Right. I'm Meara's boss. One of them, anyway. So sometimes, she calls me in. Not that often, though, but sometimes."
That question is just /itching/ to be asked. It shows in the anxious twist of Iolene's hands as they press into her belly. Or even in that aimless fidget of her head as it shifts back and forth trying to find comfortable in a sea of hay-pointy discomfort. But, somehow, she does not ask it. Maybe she's growing up. A little. Or something. What she chooses to say is clearly not what she desperately wants to in regards to problem weyrlings, it lacks the urgency all her tells point towards. "I'd like to know more about High Reaches Hold. Some day. But-," Io expels a sigh. "Not now. My head is too full."
K'del is watching: he can't possibly miss all those tells. His gaze narrows, slightly, waiting for the inevitable question; he seems genuinely surprised when it doesn't come, and instead... "Another time," he agrees, quietly. "Of course. When things are less... as they are." Beat. "You can ask me anything, anytime. You know where to find me."
Iolene tries to still her fingers in a clasp over her tummy, and yet they continue to tremble very slightly for all she would ask and is training herself not to. "You should go back to work. I want to stay here a little while longer. Or," she turns her chin ever so slightly to K'del and considers him with those deep blue eyes, "You could stay and pretend to see the stars up there," against the stone ceiling, "With me. I can be quiet too. I bet you've never seen me quiet for a long time."
Clearly, K'del would like very much to ask about the question Iolene isn't asking; he doesn't. Instead, with reluctance that may well be entirely genuine, he admits, "I ought to get back. Other places to visit, check in on. Enjoy your stars, Iolene-- and look after yourself, mm?" He rises back onto his knees, awkwardly, backing towards the ladder as though afraid he's going to hit something - or fall - if he's not careful. Given his height, it may not be an unreasonable precaution.
Iolene? She just stays there, looking at her stars, remembering better days and not moving until Ysavaeth awakens and beckons her back. By then, that stablehand is long gone and Iolene's long forgotten him. Poor guy.
Location: Stables, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: K'del catches Iolene hiding in the stables.
Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
Stables, High Reaches Weyr
Taking advantage of a natural overhang in the side of the mountain for its roof, this building boasts sturdy stone construction braced by beams of tough-as-nails skybroom. Just inside a pair of broad doors, the ceiling rises a full two stories high for the full length and half the width of the building. Beneath the overhang, wide windows admit light and more fresh air, while opposite is the second-story hayloft.
The stables' main focus, however, is the double rows of stalls that line the walls below: one large stall serving as tack room, the rest housing a remarkable variety of beasts. (+views)
There aren't many places in the Weyr a person can hide and not be found, eventually, but probably the last place most people might search is the hayloft. So it's up there that Io's carved out a little peaceful nook of study. On her belly, legs up in the air, and her blonde hair falling into her face. But if she's truly hiding, she's not doing a great job of it, as she's perched just along the beams that overlook the stable itself. And if she's truly studying, she's also not doing a great job of that as she keeps getting distracted by the animals and people below, particularly throwing things at a particularly cute stablehand. It's raining hay.
The stables are not a common haunt of K'del's: no doubt he rode runners, once upon a time, but Cadejoth has rather put an end to that. Still, master of his domain as he is, this afternoon finds him on his way in on a visit, accompanied by the stablemaster - a grey-bearded man old enough to be the Weyrleader's father. Their conversation is quiet and formal, but as hay keeps raining down not far from them, the young bronzerider can't seem to help but to glance upwards, seeking - if he can - the identity of the assailant.
There's an indolent smile on Iolene's face, what's visible of it at any rate, which from K'del's vantage point might only be delighted dark blue eyes, a high brow, and a cloud of blonde hair, She hasn't noticed that her hay rain of terror has been spotted by anyone other than the intended victim, who is abashedly working on grooming a runner. The runner is more bothered by the hay that keeps falling into his face, twitching about the nose and ears whenever a piece grazes against his body. A giggle escapes the blonde high above and when the boy turns to look, she ducks so only the top of her head can be seen.
Whatever his business with the stablemaster, it doesn't take long: within a matter of minutes, the older man is on his way, and K'del-- K'del hesitates, his gaze flicking back towards the now-hiding Iolene. His brow furrows, just ever so slightly, and then, heedless of the fact that he's now being stared at by some of those working in the stables (not to mention a handful of runners), he crosses the room, and begins to climb the ladder. He's not exactly subtle about it, either: his boots clomp, the ladder rattles.
It'd be hard to miss all those telltale signs of someone coming up, but by the time Iolene peeks upwards, just those blue eyes to look over the edge, the person coming up that ladder isn't on the ground anymore. And it's certainly not the cute stablehand which leaves the blonde teenager confused, and a little apprehensive. /Someone/ is coming up that ladder and there's not many places to hide except behind a big bale of hay, which isn't quite enough cover for a lanky girl.
As if he can read her mind, K'del speaks up, right about then, keeping his voice low, but still conversational. "You don't have to hide or anything." Beat. His head appears over the edge, and he looks-- faintly amused? And also, faintly concerned. "Thought it might be you. Hello, Iolene." Without waiting for a reaction, the tall Weyrleader hoists himself up into the loft and off of the ladder, crouching low with both hands hanging down towards the floor beneath him.
She might not have recognized the gait coming up, those boots clomping against the floor and the rattling ladder being a rather specific sort of thing that isn't heard often. But that voice? It's all too familiar and it stills Iolene's not-so-hidden body. The recognition that she can't /hide/ here, especially when called out, sinks in a long silent moment later, but it doesn't hurry Io from crawling out from behind that bale. Instead, from behind there, she calls out, "I was trying to find some place quiet to study, unbothered." /See/, a small stack of papers rises above the top of the hay and waves around, there's real work going on here.
"Okay," is K'del's answer, unbothered, not that it sends him back down the ladder or anything: in fact, he stays right where he is, seeking her out with his gaze through the hay. "That you telling me to go away and leave you to your," beat, "study? Just thought I'd say hi. See how things were going, maybe." Because he's heard nothing at all-- or perhaps rather more than that. "Not aiming to get you in trouble, anyway, if that's what you think."
If he could only see her, K'del might see Iolene's face vacillate, warring between the friendly face K'del has been in the past and her skewed perception of Weyr life now. But, the loft isn't big enough for her to remain hiding with K'del out there and slowly, the blonde head of hair peeks out from the side, a sheepish smile on her face. "I don't know why I hid. I thought you might be the stablemaster telling me not to bother his workers anymore," which might mean she does this quite often and /that/ happens quite often, "Hi," says the hay-strewn weyrling, her free hand lifted in a wave. "Don't go. I wanted to talk to you for a while but you always seem busy and I'm always busy and..."
Regardless of anything else he might be feeling right about now, K'del is clearly distinctly amused by the fact that Iolene is apparently regularly told off for 'bothering' the stablehands. Except that that brings him back - or so it seems, from his expression - to something /else/, and draws his expression tighter all over again. A beat; then, he nods, settling down cross-legged on the hayloft floor. "Not quite the location I invisioned for answering more of your questions, but-- if you need something, Iolene, you shouldn't be afraid to come and ask. I'm not too busy for that."
"No questions. Well," Iolene has the grace have a smile accompany her flush. "Maybe, but nothing off the top of my head. How are you?" Pause. "Wait, that's a question but not really a question, right?" On fours, she crawls over the rest of the way to where K'del sits and takes her own cross-legged spot not far from the Weyrleader. The transition from amused to tense is lost on Iolene, for now and those dark eyes look with something akin to open amusement at the bronzerider. It's either amusement or some semblance of happiness. "How are you?"
K'del's brows raise, though, surely, he's mostly teasing: "No questions? I've been supplanted." His hands drape loosely over his knees; he has surprisingly good posture, too, even in this position. "I'm well," he says in answer to her question. "The tithes have all come in, no problems, so-- that's a weight off my shoulders. Winter's coming, but we're prepared. My kids are healthy. Cadejoth's happy." His shoulders shrug: what more can he ask for? "How are /you/?"
"S'thyn doesn't really answer questions," is Iolene's response to being supplanted, what might pass for reassurance flitting across her face and then settles into the lightest of teases. "If I had real questions, I promise, I'll only come ask you. But since you asked, I'm doing well I think. Everyone-, /everyone/, keeps trying to help me and I don't really know if they should. I don't really know what I'm doing or what I should be learning and a lot of it is-" She doesn't have to say it likely, it's written all over her face: she's in way over her head. "But I'm trying." And hiding. "But sometimes, it's hard to sit in there and have people whisper about how I should be trained and how I'm not, and then having E'gin and Quinlys pass me notes and tell me what they think I should know. Do people tell you what they think you should know too? Tell you want to do?"
S'thyn. There goes K'del's expression again; a faint twitch. But, "You'd better. No one likes to be replaced." /That/ teasing remark, however, does not stop the seriousness from creeping back in, and his hands from tightening upon his knees, gripping as though that might give him-- something. Whatever it is he needs. "They certainly did when I first became Weyrleader," he says, quietly, eventually. "It's hard, isn't it? Daunting. And har-- well." Whatever he was going to say, he stops short at it, and says, instead, "It does get easier. Most things do. Nothing is ever as bad or as hard as it seems."
A tired little hand finds her face, smearing against and rubbing at her cheek. "I'm glad to know that. Right now," Iolene sighs a little and flops backwards into the hay, still cross-legged. "Right now I just want to go somewhere warm and look up at the stars until my mind goes completely blank. So blank. Too blank for even Ysavaeth to find any lingering thought there. Do you ever wish you could have a moment of quiet away from Cadejoth? Does thinking this make me a bad dragonrider? I hurt her once, did you know?" Or many times, but only once of importance.
Were you expecting it? Is it surprising that it took this long? Quietly, but with feeling: "Oh, Iolene." He hasn't graduated to nicknames with her yet; the sentiment, though, is very much there. K'del's gaze follows Iolene as she flops backwards, though he makes no move to shift his own position. "Yes," he says. A pause. "I mean, rather, yes, I used to wish that a lot, particularly when we were weyrlings. It's better, now. What did you do to hurt her?"
"I told Jaques that I wish we were never rescued. That I could live blissful on the island, even cold and hungry as we were sometimes, /blissful/ with a husband and a family. I want-," Iolene's seventeen year old voice that shouldn't know what she wants cracks in that painful sad sort of way, "I want children. I want babies." She won't say it, but she might have wanted specific babies. "And I think. I know I meant it then. That I would have traded Ysavaeth for the chance to live normally." Or her version of normal. "And- I don't know if she's ever forgiven me." The last is quiet, that sort of moment's realization where a piece finally clicks in the puzzle of Iolene and Ysavaeth's relationship.
K'del is silent, after that, looking, now, not at Iolene, but at that hay bale towards the back of the loft. The silence lasts long enough that it may, briefly, seem as though he isn't going to say anything. Finally, though; "Do you still mean it? Iolene."
Quietly, almost as if she's afraid Ysavaeth might be listening in despite the afternoon nap the gold's taking elsewhere, Iolene answers after the longest silence where her breath is the only sounds up in the hayloft, though below is another story. "Sometimes. And I think she knows. But I miss my grandmother and my grandfather. I miss- I miss being happy. She makes me happy, she's everything. But..." Some, after such a confession to the _Weyrleader_ might not be able to meet his eyes. Io, on the other hand, turns her head in the hay to look at K'del with an earnest sort of plea in her eyes. Please don't hate her.
K'del is oh-so clearly troubled by these revelations - perhaps even floored by them. Despite his discomfort and unease, however, he's not unwilling to meet Iolene's eyes all the same, conveying, somehow, an enormous amount of sympathy-- and perhaps an equal dose of pity. "It's been an overwhelming turn for you, hasn't it." Not a question. "Everything changed. And I guess we haven't helped much; all of this." He sucks in a deep breath, studying her cautiously. "Is there anything we can do, to make things easier on you?"
"Could I go home?" is Iolene's very quiet, very tiny, very quickly spoken request, almost as if she's afraid of it being denied even before she can get it all out. It's nearing the one year anniversary of their rescue, not that Iolene would remember dates or know. It's been a long time is enough to suffice for her deep-rooted homesickness. "I mean, not forever. But... we never thought that would be the last time we'd see our island." They were supposed to go back, eventually.
It's pretty obvious that K'del jumps to the wrong conclusion on that request, at least at first: he's opening his mouth to respond even as Iolene is clarifying. The clarification strikes him dumb, silent except for the audible swallow that follows. His hands flatten stiffly on his knees, and, finally, "I'm sorry. That we took you away, and--" Never took you back. He doesn't get that far, though. "I think we could take you back." He sounds thoughtful, too, now. "It's too far to fly straight, so either-- a group could go, adult dragons taking you Between. Or just you, I guess, but it seems like maybe the others would want to go... Or if you could wait-- hm. That, or we send you all camping there, in a few months. After you can Between." All of them. Exile weyrlings and not exile weyrlings.
"Could we? Could I now?" Perhaps Iolene has a better sense of time than she lets on. "I'd like to take Tom with me if I can." The lanky blonde gets slowly up, her arms bracing her leaned backwards position before she comes up fully to crawl on all fours to K'del. Her stop sets her back onto her knees and she looks to the Weyrleader. "Please? We can go again? You can take us or maybe S'thyn can or that brownrider down in the barracks with us. E'dre!" She remembers the name at the last minute, both triumph and hope bringing a different sort of happiness to her voice. "Please? His- his sister died on the islands, last turn, around this time. Please?"
The name 'Tom' doesn't necessarily ring a bell, but Iolene's current happiness makes it likely that K'del will agree to just about anything - anything, in the hopes that this version of the weyrling stays current. "Tom," he agrees. "Sure." If he seems less sure about S'thyn - or E'dre, for that matter - he's not /completely/ obvious about it and says, instead, "I'll take you, or we'll find someone who can. One way or another. I promise, Iolene. Just let me get it organised, and clear it with Meara, okay?" He's smiling at her, though, and there's a certain amount of apparent /relief/ in his expression.
"Oh, K'del!" So pleased, Iolene throws herself at the other rider and gives him a hug designed to push him over. It might even result in a laugh that causes people in the stables to look up bemused. "Yay."
It's a good thing there's hay all over the floor, because (even though it really probably shouldn't) Iolene's hug takes K'del by surprise, and propels him backwards sharply. He's grinning, though, albeit with a small amount of bemusement of his own, as he returns the hug with a light squeeze. "Glad to help," he tells her, genuinely.
She should have asked for the world. If only she knew how close she was to getting anything her little heart desired. Instead, Iolene merely (or not so merely) smiles down at K'del, with that spark in her eyes of something to look forward to. "Can I ask a question?" Of course she wants to.
Her loss! Mistake. Something. That question, though? It makes K'del laugh - unrestrained, utterly amused. "Of course you can."
"Do you not like S'thyn?" Iolene asks, a genuine sort of innocence drawing up question marks of her brows. "You look like you have bugs in your pants whenever I mention his name. See, watch, S'thyn. S'thyn." The name is uttered twice as she looks down upon him, watchfully waiting for those twitches.
But there are no twitches, this time, only an eyebrow raised glance. The laughter has stopped, though, and K'del pauses obviously before he speaks. "No, actually; I like him fine. He's a pleasant enough guy. Just not sure-- why do you like him so much?"
Iolene tumbles off her half-hug, half-sprawl on K'del and turns to study the bustle of the stables below. "He- doesn't care who I am. Or what I am. Or what he thinks I am. You still do, even when you're being nice. Everyone else seems to have an opinion and he doesn't. He's... simple." It might not be the most flattering descriptive of the greenrider.
No longer sprawled upon, K'del shifts back into a seated position, his head turned so that he can watch Iolene rather than the stables below. "Ah," he says, finally; whether or not he really understands is more difficult to discern. "Like why I take my knot off when I get to far off gathers, sometimes."
"Does that really work?" asks Iolene, turning from staring at the cute stablehand below, the one who lingers long past his quitting time, to turn and look to K'del.
K'del's answer is honest: "Sometimes." A pause, and then, "Sometimes, people know who I am, anyway. But if you pick somewhere remote... It's easier to be just another person." He looks sad as he adds, "But it's better when there's someone who really cares about you, who doesn't care about any of it, and just cares about you for you."
Iolene is quiet a long time. She's no longer looking to K'del or the cute stablehand who, after a glance up to find the weyrling goldrider with the Weyrleader flushes and traipses off. When she speaks, it's quiet again, a little sad, and spoken to the arms that drape over her bent knees. "I know."
It's a trap K'del didn't know was there; he looks awkward, now, and glances away from the saddened weyrling to stare at the straw at his feet. "I'm sorry." He's clearly not entirely sure what for, but the words are genuine nonetheless.
"No, it's ok. I know it's better that way but," Iolene shrugs a little and adopts her brave face for K'del's awkwardness. "Sometimes. I guess... I don't want to wait for that anymore. Besides. There's too many pretty girls here for me to compete with." A smile pushes itself out as the 'real' reasons for why she doesn't want to stay at High Reaches emerge. "There weren't as many on the island, y'know? It's-," but if that fails to convince her hayloft companion, she'll concede, "- I know. Thank you. For worrying about me."
K'del looks-- faintly amused, somehow, but not convinced. At least, cheerfully, "The nice thing about the weyr is that you don't have to wait around for the right one, I guess." Beat. "Once you're allowed to, anyway." Is it a quiet chiding? Does he even know? "I do worry about you. And-- if you need things, you know where I am, okay? I feel bad." It's a round-about-way of saying 'you're welcome', presumably.
Chides only work when you know you've done wrong. Iolene? Oblivious enough to ask, albeit in a tease, "So you'd sleep with me if I asked?" But at least she's smiling again, maybe even laughing a little, even as she's flopped backwards into the hay again. "Maybe I'll become the first goldrider to join a fighting wing." Cause clearly, Tiriana will just never let her fly in the queens' wing or actually be a weyrwoman.
Hasn't Iolene /heard/ K'del's reputation? His answer comes with a crooked little smile; he might be teasing. He might not be. "After you're allowed to, sure." At least she's smiling again, even if the rest of what she has to say doesn't make the Weyrleader all that thrilled. "It won't-- don't think it'll come to that. Sweeps are boring, anyway. Believe me, you probably don't want in on that."
"Sweeps mean I can fly out of here, doesn't it?" Iolene looks to the rafters, her chin bobbling as if counting something up there. "I never see Rielsath or Iovniath or Iski-," a beat doesn't complete that name. "They never seem to leave much."
Iskiveth. A pause from K'del; his expression is unreadable. "Yeah, but it's enforced flying. The others-- they /can/ fly out. They just don't always do so. No one's going to force you to stay within the weyr, at least once you're cleared for flight."
"Oh. So they're allowed to but they don't." Iolene parses this and considers aloud. "Is it because they're busy?" Because if it is, that not so subtle trail off of her voice might indicate there's even more reasons not to become a weyrwoman for real.
There's a fine line here, and K'del's pause before he answers must make him teeter in one direction on it. But: "Well, they're a bit busy. But not so busy they can't leave, no. I mean /I/ do, and I guess I'm more busy than Lujayn is? Three Weyrwomen would make more time for everyone."
"What are you busy with?" Iolene, for all she's seen him being Weyrleader and learned her exile-rehabilitation and weyrling lessons, has to ask.
K'del can't help but raise his eyebrows, ever so slightly, in Iolene's direction in receipt of that question. He'll answer it, though, and without sounding too teacher-y about it. "The wings are my responsibility, and dealing with the Holds and Crafts in the sweep area. Problems with riders get passed up to me, problems between the weyr and the rest of the sweep area, problems with weyrlings... It's a lot of making nice with people. But solving problems, too. Making sure the weyr doesn't starve."
Iolene's, "High Reaches Hold?" comes off more pointed than the teenager might actually be capable of. Then she latches onto something else, "Problems with weyrlings." Which just begs to have a question attached to it, but for now, the young woman restrains herself.
A pause. "Sometimes." sometimes, High Reaches Hold. "We have a reasonable relationship with them, generally. Sometimes less so." K'del doesn't seem terribly inclined to give out too many details on that front, and his expression remains neutral. "Right. I'm Meara's boss. One of them, anyway. So sometimes, she calls me in. Not that often, though, but sometimes."
That question is just /itching/ to be asked. It shows in the anxious twist of Iolene's hands as they press into her belly. Or even in that aimless fidget of her head as it shifts back and forth trying to find comfortable in a sea of hay-pointy discomfort. But, somehow, she does not ask it. Maybe she's growing up. A little. Or something. What she chooses to say is clearly not what she desperately wants to in regards to problem weyrlings, it lacks the urgency all her tells point towards. "I'd like to know more about High Reaches Hold. Some day. But-," Io expels a sigh. "Not now. My head is too full."
K'del is watching: he can't possibly miss all those tells. His gaze narrows, slightly, waiting for the inevitable question; he seems genuinely surprised when it doesn't come, and instead... "Another time," he agrees, quietly. "Of course. When things are less... as they are." Beat. "You can ask me anything, anytime. You know where to find me."
Iolene tries to still her fingers in a clasp over her tummy, and yet they continue to tremble very slightly for all she would ask and is training herself not to. "You should go back to work. I want to stay here a little while longer. Or," she turns her chin ever so slightly to K'del and considers him with those deep blue eyes, "You could stay and pretend to see the stars up there," against the stone ceiling, "With me. I can be quiet too. I bet you've never seen me quiet for a long time."
Clearly, K'del would like very much to ask about the question Iolene isn't asking; he doesn't. Instead, with reluctance that may well be entirely genuine, he admits, "I ought to get back. Other places to visit, check in on. Enjoy your stars, Iolene-- and look after yourself, mm?" He rises back onto his knees, awkwardly, backing towards the ladder as though afraid he's going to hit something - or fall - if he's not careful. Given his height, it may not be an unreasonable precaution.
Iolene? She just stays there, looking at her stars, remembering better days and not moving until Ysavaeth awakens and beckons her back. By then, that stablehand is long gone and Iolene's long forgotten him. Poor guy.