LOG: Crazy or Something
Date: The day after the escapees are caught
Location: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: K'del finds out from G'brion what happened with the exiles in the stables.
Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest.
Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention.
A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind.
It's morning on the day after the recapture of the escapee exiles, and the snow is coming down heavily... again. Cadejoth's chime of discordant metal comes out of nowhere, breaking through the morning's gloom to jangle at Pterath until, << Mine would like to have a word with yours in the council chambers. >> It doesn't /seem/ like they're in trouble. << At your convenience. >> In the chambers, K'del's got klah and a breakfast pastry, plus the ever-present stack of reports to go through, one of which he's thumbing through as he eats, his brows furrowed in thoughtfully.
Pterath is sleeping in, in the sun. She wakes up just enough to lazily acknowledge the communication; and G'brion's convenience doesn't take too long to arrive. He pauses just outside the council chamber to tuck in his shirt, and when he enters, he's looking presentable, his hair showing signs of recent attention. He salutes and smiles at K'del. "Morning, Weyrleader."
If Cadejoth is disappointed that he doesn't get any fun and games from Pterath, he doesn't show it: he withdraws, silently, and goes back to (probably) rolling around in the snow. Go figure. As G'brion enters, K'del sets down the remains of his pastry and pushes the hides away, beckoning the greenrider towards an opposite chair with an easy smile. "Morning, G'brion. Just wanted to get your side of what happened last night, if you can spare me a few minutes?"
G'brion blinks owlishly at that wording. "My... side? Okay," he says, and carefully settles himself into the chair. "So um... I was... ah... well, this friend and I, right, we were just kind of... messing around? And we went into the stables and we climbed up into the hayloft. And then this guy jumped out at us with a sword or a knife or something. And there were some others, but they didn't have weapons. So, I pulled out my knife and started telling him to drop it, and -- my friend took off down the ladder to go get help, and Pterath was flipping out, and anyway, right when the other riders got there, for some reason one of them just took off running and jumped right off the hayloft, and that kind of distracted the sword guy so I kicked him in the hand and made him drop it. And then the other riders got there and grabbed him, so I went outside to get Pterath to stop trying to tear down the stable and... that's about it, I guess." His forehead creases slightly as he frowns, eyes on K'del to see his reaction to this tale.
K'del opens his mouth as though he intends to say something, but G'brion starts his story before he gets the chance to; he subsides, listening, his expression largely unreadable. By the end, though, he's scrubbing at his eyes. When his hands drop back to the table, he says, "/Shells/. I guess we're lucky no one actually got hurt. Not," he hastens to add, "that I think you did wrong. From the sounds of it, they started it."
G'brion relaxes a little. "Yeah. I mean - I think that guy with the sword - I think he's crazy or something," he confides, making a little face. "He seemed to think I was there to, like, attack them or something. They were all pretty freaked out, I guess. And," he adds, "I don't think they'd bathed in a week or two."
"I knew there was a group who were disdaining whatever we could give them - baths, whatever." K'del looks faintly guilty, and goes back to rubbing one eye. "Somehow, we managed to miss that some of them had gone missing, though. Shells. I wonder how long they were there; probably a little while. They didn't seem to know that they weren't under guard anymore." Beat. "How crazy?"
"Well," Gabe reasons, "you have to be pretty crazy to attach a dragonrider out of the blue with a sword, right?" He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not a mindhealer. But he kept going on about me not hurting them, and like. Why would I? It was just all kind of weird. Why were they up there in the first place, do you know?"
A faint smile hints at K'del's mouth, but he only shakes his head. "It seems like they don't even know that. I guess... well, maybe they wouldn't." He seems distinctly uncertain about the whole thing, and reaches for his mug, as if holding that between both hands will ground him and provide further insight. "I don't know for sure, but I think they were intending to try and run away. Back to their island, or something, somehow. They don't seem to trust us, or our intentions."
G'brion snorts. "They were going to run back to their island? Hah. Yeah, um, did they have any idea how they were going to get there?" He shakes his head a little, a hint of a smirk on his face. "No, I kind of got that impression. Like, they really, /really/ didn't trust me."
K'del's shoulders shrug; he looks rueful, and maybe faintly amused. "I've no idea. I haven't actually talked to them; I probably won't. Since none of us got hurt, in the end." He sucks in a breath, then releases it, considering the remains of his klah before he adds, "Yeah. I don't know what to do with them. There may be no way to integrate them, you know? Despite the best efforts of their leaders and ours."
"Is there any reason they can't just go back to their island?" G'brion asks. "I mean, if that's what they want." He shrugs his shoulders - not his cup of tea, but there's no accounting for taste.
K'del hesitates visibly before answering that, his hands tightening around his mug, his gaze avoiding G'brion's for several moments. Then, "There's nothing left for them to go to." It's an admission, made softly. "They'd have to start over. We'd probably have to supply a bunch of stuff. And the place is not exactly conducive to supporting people."
"Oh," Gabe says, looking thoughtful for a moment. Finally, he concludes with characteristic bluntness, "That sucks." He shrugs again, and opens his hands -- he's got nothing in the way of solutions.
Silence - and then, K'del laughs. "Yeah." He shakes his head. "Yeah, it does. For them, and for us, too. Guess that means it's back to the drawing board for me, right? That's why they pay me the big stipend. Or something like that."
"Better you than me," Gabe teases with a big grin. "This is why I impressed a green." He pauses, then says, "I wonder if it would help if I talked to them - I don't know. Apologize for... startling them? Or... something?"
"Smart man," says K'del, though there's no doubt that he's glad /he/ got a bronze. His bronze, anyway. Gabe's suggestion draws another pause from him, though; he sucks a breath in, bites his lip, the exhales again. "You could try," he allows. "Just keep Pterath away, right? I don't want her getting upset again."
"Yeah," G'brion agrees drily. "Me neither. She did kind of flip out -- but, well. Sword and all."
K'del makes a face, nodding. "Cadejoth told me. Seems like it's... the kind of thing she does. Though, yeah - I doubt Cadejoth would've liked it if I was being faced with something sharp." He draws his hands away from his mug, now, and adds, "But if you can keep her calm, then it might be useful. Shells. We probably need to do everything we can to try and make them feel comfortable."
"Yeah, she... likes to have things a certain way. I guess now we know that includes me not having sharp things pointed at me," Gabe says, and rolls his eyes. "She'll have forgotten about it soon I think, so that's good. And I'll... I'll see if I can talk to 'em. Maybe the one who jumped off the hayloft. I hope she's okay."
Dryly; "Funny, that." K'del seems faintly amused, nonetheless. "Cool. /Good/. Maybe that'll help." Satisfied, apparently, he adds, "I appreciate it. Better that than we just ignore the problems, you know?"
"Right," G'brion agrees firmly. "You don't want to just ignore the problems. Well..." he glances at the door, and then back at K'del. "Did you need me for anything else, or...?"
K'del gives G'brion a firm nod in response, and then shakes his head: "No, that's it. Thanks for coming in, G'brion; I appreciate your time. Have a good one."
G'brion doesn't wait to be told twice; he grins and makes his goodbye, and hastens out the door.
Location: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: K'del finds out from G'brion what happened with the exiles in the stables.
Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest.
Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention.
A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind.
It's morning on the day after the recapture of the escapee exiles, and the snow is coming down heavily... again. Cadejoth's chime of discordant metal comes out of nowhere, breaking through the morning's gloom to jangle at Pterath until, << Mine would like to have a word with yours in the council chambers. >> It doesn't /seem/ like they're in trouble. << At your convenience. >> In the chambers, K'del's got klah and a breakfast pastry, plus the ever-present stack of reports to go through, one of which he's thumbing through as he eats, his brows furrowed in thoughtfully.
Pterath is sleeping in, in the sun. She wakes up just enough to lazily acknowledge the communication; and G'brion's convenience doesn't take too long to arrive. He pauses just outside the council chamber to tuck in his shirt, and when he enters, he's looking presentable, his hair showing signs of recent attention. He salutes and smiles at K'del. "Morning, Weyrleader."
If Cadejoth is disappointed that he doesn't get any fun and games from Pterath, he doesn't show it: he withdraws, silently, and goes back to (probably) rolling around in the snow. Go figure. As G'brion enters, K'del sets down the remains of his pastry and pushes the hides away, beckoning the greenrider towards an opposite chair with an easy smile. "Morning, G'brion. Just wanted to get your side of what happened last night, if you can spare me a few minutes?"
G'brion blinks owlishly at that wording. "My... side? Okay," he says, and carefully settles himself into the chair. "So um... I was... ah... well, this friend and I, right, we were just kind of... messing around? And we went into the stables and we climbed up into the hayloft. And then this guy jumped out at us with a sword or a knife or something. And there were some others, but they didn't have weapons. So, I pulled out my knife and started telling him to drop it, and -- my friend took off down the ladder to go get help, and Pterath was flipping out, and anyway, right when the other riders got there, for some reason one of them just took off running and jumped right off the hayloft, and that kind of distracted the sword guy so I kicked him in the hand and made him drop it. And then the other riders got there and grabbed him, so I went outside to get Pterath to stop trying to tear down the stable and... that's about it, I guess." His forehead creases slightly as he frowns, eyes on K'del to see his reaction to this tale.
K'del opens his mouth as though he intends to say something, but G'brion starts his story before he gets the chance to; he subsides, listening, his expression largely unreadable. By the end, though, he's scrubbing at his eyes. When his hands drop back to the table, he says, "/Shells/. I guess we're lucky no one actually got hurt. Not," he hastens to add, "that I think you did wrong. From the sounds of it, they started it."
G'brion relaxes a little. "Yeah. I mean - I think that guy with the sword - I think he's crazy or something," he confides, making a little face. "He seemed to think I was there to, like, attack them or something. They were all pretty freaked out, I guess. And," he adds, "I don't think they'd bathed in a week or two."
"I knew there was a group who were disdaining whatever we could give them - baths, whatever." K'del looks faintly guilty, and goes back to rubbing one eye. "Somehow, we managed to miss that some of them had gone missing, though. Shells. I wonder how long they were there; probably a little while. They didn't seem to know that they weren't under guard anymore." Beat. "How crazy?"
"Well," Gabe reasons, "you have to be pretty crazy to attach a dragonrider out of the blue with a sword, right?" He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not a mindhealer. But he kept going on about me not hurting them, and like. Why would I? It was just all kind of weird. Why were they up there in the first place, do you know?"
A faint smile hints at K'del's mouth, but he only shakes his head. "It seems like they don't even know that. I guess... well, maybe they wouldn't." He seems distinctly uncertain about the whole thing, and reaches for his mug, as if holding that between both hands will ground him and provide further insight. "I don't know for sure, but I think they were intending to try and run away. Back to their island, or something, somehow. They don't seem to trust us, or our intentions."
G'brion snorts. "They were going to run back to their island? Hah. Yeah, um, did they have any idea how they were going to get there?" He shakes his head a little, a hint of a smirk on his face. "No, I kind of got that impression. Like, they really, /really/ didn't trust me."
K'del's shoulders shrug; he looks rueful, and maybe faintly amused. "I've no idea. I haven't actually talked to them; I probably won't. Since none of us got hurt, in the end." He sucks in a breath, then releases it, considering the remains of his klah before he adds, "Yeah. I don't know what to do with them. There may be no way to integrate them, you know? Despite the best efforts of their leaders and ours."
"Is there any reason they can't just go back to their island?" G'brion asks. "I mean, if that's what they want." He shrugs his shoulders - not his cup of tea, but there's no accounting for taste.
K'del hesitates visibly before answering that, his hands tightening around his mug, his gaze avoiding G'brion's for several moments. Then, "There's nothing left for them to go to." It's an admission, made softly. "They'd have to start over. We'd probably have to supply a bunch of stuff. And the place is not exactly conducive to supporting people."
"Oh," Gabe says, looking thoughtful for a moment. Finally, he concludes with characteristic bluntness, "That sucks." He shrugs again, and opens his hands -- he's got nothing in the way of solutions.
Silence - and then, K'del laughs. "Yeah." He shakes his head. "Yeah, it does. For them, and for us, too. Guess that means it's back to the drawing board for me, right? That's why they pay me the big stipend. Or something like that."
"Better you than me," Gabe teases with a big grin. "This is why I impressed a green." He pauses, then says, "I wonder if it would help if I talked to them - I don't know. Apologize for... startling them? Or... something?"
"Smart man," says K'del, though there's no doubt that he's glad /he/ got a bronze. His bronze, anyway. Gabe's suggestion draws another pause from him, though; he sucks a breath in, bites his lip, the exhales again. "You could try," he allows. "Just keep Pterath away, right? I don't want her getting upset again."
"Yeah," G'brion agrees drily. "Me neither. She did kind of flip out -- but, well. Sword and all."
K'del makes a face, nodding. "Cadejoth told me. Seems like it's... the kind of thing she does. Though, yeah - I doubt Cadejoth would've liked it if I was being faced with something sharp." He draws his hands away from his mug, now, and adds, "But if you can keep her calm, then it might be useful. Shells. We probably need to do everything we can to try and make them feel comfortable."
"Yeah, she... likes to have things a certain way. I guess now we know that includes me not having sharp things pointed at me," Gabe says, and rolls his eyes. "She'll have forgotten about it soon I think, so that's good. And I'll... I'll see if I can talk to 'em. Maybe the one who jumped off the hayloft. I hope she's okay."
Dryly; "Funny, that." K'del seems faintly amused, nonetheless. "Cool. /Good/. Maybe that'll help." Satisfied, apparently, he adds, "I appreciate it. Better that than we just ignore the problems, you know?"
"Right," G'brion agrees firmly. "You don't want to just ignore the problems. Well..." he glances at the door, and then back at K'del. "Did you need me for anything else, or...?"
K'del gives G'brion a firm nod in response, and then shakes his head: "No, that's it. Thanks for coming in, G'brion; I appreciate your time. Have a good one."
G'brion doesn't wait to be told twice; he grins and makes his goodbye, and hastens out the door.