Mutual I'm sorries.
Who: A'son, Tiriana
When: I don't know what day, but it's six am!
What: A'son goes to report to his Weyrwoman once they return from the tithe raid.
Where: Tiriana's weyr.
It's roughly six in the morning. There's hardly any light outside, being that it's just the crack of dawn pretty much. This doesn't stop one visitor though. No, A'son charges brazenly into Tiriana's weyr. He doesn't look to see if she's got any one else staying there with her either. He just walks in, stomping his dirt-encrusted boots along the way. "Tiriana! /Tiriana!/" The bronzerider pauses in the first chamber. He's a terrible sight, covered in dirt and scratches. There's also a foul stench coming from him.
With both of them having early morning duties, R'uen's usually out the door by this time, returned to Fort; and Tiriana's dragging herself out of bed to go running or head off to her own meetings. This morning, when her name starts getting yelled, she groans into her pillow, buries her face for a moment in it before pulling herself out of bed, getting half-dressed, and stumbling toward the voice. "What'd you forg--fuck!" The routine question breaks off into cursing and aa stunned expression when she sees A'son, and she drags her long-but-not-quite-buttoned shirt around herself tighter. At least she put on underwear, too. Really, though, it's all understandable. How many filthy, non-weyrmate bronzeriders really barge into the Weyrwoman's chambers at this hour of the morning?
A'son's dark eyes drag down Tirian's long, only in a shirt covered frame. Ordinarily when they came back up they might be full of some sort of physical appreciation. Now there's just a sort of dull registration. Like maybe he'll think about this later, maybe not. He simply looks exhausted, like this was probably a long night. "They tried to sack us. Leova and I got two. N'thei went to talk to one. He got clubbed over the fucking head in the woods. That guy got away. We've got the kid here." He takes a breath. "I want these fucking people. I want them."
"You--you fucking--" Tiriana's mouth just gapes, and she can't get much more out. She half-turns away to try buttoning up her shirt so she doesn't have to hold it the whole time, but it's hard when her hands are shaking this much. She eventually fumbles it buttoned, taking deep breaths while A'son elaborates. "He got clubbed." If A'son's going to be fantasizing about her later, then she's going to be fantasizing about N'thei getting beat over the head. "But you--you got one. You got one? You fucking, you fucking, fuck--. Fuck! Where?" It's early, she's already got about two surprises too many this morning; forgive her if she's not the most coherent thing ever.
There's a tired wave of his hand. "He's going to live. He's built like a tank." For her sake, he averts his eyes to watch the wall while Tiriana tries to close her shirt. "We don't know how much good he's going to be. He's a blathering, crying 'oh please don't kill me' fool. And he's young, a kid." There's a touch of something there, regret, pain, annoyance. Something. Whatever it is it holds his voice back from being too scathing in reference to their prisoner. "He's up in one of the empty weyrs." Eyes drifting back again to see if it's safe, "Stopped the caravan from getting robbed. The others made it through the night fine."
Where A'son's expression is full of mixed emotions, there's only hate and fury in Tiriana's eyes. "He's /mine/. I don't care if he doesn't know anything. We'll send him, them, all of them a message anyway," she promises, hands clenching. But, "The caravan's fine? He should be thankful it is this time. And--" She pauses, scowls as a new thought occurs. "Did K'del go?"
"Not yet. We need to keep him and not hurt him. He's leverage for a family out there. He's someone's /son/ or brother." A'son sounds tired this morning, so tired. But still with that whirlwind of emotions sweeping through his tone and voice, his eyes are burning slowly. Anger maybe. "They're fine, if a little terrified. N'thei stayed behind to calm the wagoneers down." For the last, he shakes his head. "No, he was here. He met me when I brought our new friend in. I have go meet him with Leova after this."
"And?" Tiriana is not dissuaded by that argument. "If they can't raise their kids better than to steal from /me/? They deserve to lose him. They probably agree with him--probably were the ones that told him this is what to do." She's not appeased at all, though news that K'del, at least, didn't get to go beat on anybody seems to relax her shoulders just a hair. "N'thei, calming people down." Snort. "You punch him for me--K'del. You kick the shit out of him, because I fucking told him, if anything went down, he was taking me with him."
"And /I/ don't want you to lay a single finger on that kid. Do you hear me?" A'son's voice suddenly grows sharp, like he's someone that's been pushed way too far all evening. He stops biting his lip and closing his eyes. "Look. I understand. They probably do. But I want to use him as leverage. I can't do that if you fuck him or do something." There's a little shudder to his shoulders, "I'm not punching K'del for you. If you guys had an agreement and he broke it, you hit him. You didn't miss anything exciting anyway."
Tiriana's eyes narrow at A'son's order, her mouth a thin line. "Are you ordering /me/?" she snaps in return. "You be careful, A'son. I'll leverage his dead body if I want to. We'll do what we have to with him." She glowers, whatever hint of relaxation might have been there with the good news, now gone. "Fine. I'll hit him myself. Don't tell /me/ I didn't miss any excitement, when you finally got to get your hands on the fuckers who are messing with our Weyr."
"What, what are you going to do to me? Piss on me?" At which point A'son practically rips his jacket off and throws it onto the floor by her feet. "Because someone already /did/ that. You will not do anything to his body. You will not hurt him or so help me." He holds his hands up to her and his voice drops though it's absolutely seething, "I almost killed someone. I almost beat the living shit out of him until he was dead and the only reason I stopped was N'thei. I don't want to hear your whining crap about missing excitement. There wasn't anything exciting about wanting to kill someone. Really wanting to kill someone." Then he's dropping his hands, staring at them with a shake. "I have to go. I have to go."
"You think I haven't wanted that before?" Tiriana says, harshly. "Don't go if you can't handle it. If you can't handle doing what you have to do. Yes, shit happens, but they brought it on themselves and you don't have a damn thing to be sorry about." Somebody else might make it into a cheer-up pep talk; with Tiriana, it's just coldly furious still, her own anger unabated. She says, "Go."
"You're a little girl. You don't have /any/ idea." A'son answers, voice rough. "You think everything is fists and punching people." The shake is still there and the hands go through his hair. "Don't touch him." A firm pressing of his lips together before he leaves. And leaves his scuzzy jacket behind too.
He leaves the jacket, and Tiriana, still fuming, stares at it. Probably debating what evil things she can do to it; but really. After it's pissed on, what's left? She takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment. Then she reaches out to snag it in one hand and go chasing after him before he can get off the ledge, even if she's still only half-dressed. "A'son."
A'son doesn't even turn around. "No. If you're going to hit me or something. No." He's stalking off and away, but he'll stop a salf distance off to look at her. Suspiciously. He did push the line in there. He's prepared for something to sail at his head apparently.
But there's not. Tiriana stops there when he does, taking just one more hesitant step toward him, bare feet shifting on the cold early morning stone. She holds his jacket out at arm's length. A deep breath, lower lip bitten for a moment; then, "I'm sorry."
A'son stares at that outstretched jacket. He looks at it with distaste but slowly puts his hand out there to take it. "It's alright." There's a shake of his head. "I'm sorry. I don't like... be like this." He wipes his face, jacket-holding arm falling to his side. "I'll be back again. But cleaner next time."
Tiriana passes the jacket over, but lingers even with that accomplished. "Should have first this time," she tells him. "Wasn't that urgent." It's half an apology in its own way, as she glances away for just a moment before her eyes cut back to his. "Thank you."
There's a rough laugh, "I'm just so tired. I couldn't get myself moving again if I stopped, I'm afraid." A'son does that face rubbing again, "Don't worry about it. I'm doing what I'm should be doing."
"I know," says Tiriana. She pauses again, just for a moment, then nods once. "Still. Thank you," she repeats, taking a half step back finally, apparently releasing him this time.
"Well. You're welcome. I think." A'son starts to take his back-steps away. "Good night, or morning. Or something. Sorry for waking you." After this he'll turn and disappear off. The sun just now breaking over the horizon and starting a new day.
When: I don't know what day, but it's six am!
What: A'son goes to report to his Weyrwoman once they return from the tithe raid.
Where: Tiriana's weyr.
It's roughly six in the morning. There's hardly any light outside, being that it's just the crack of dawn pretty much. This doesn't stop one visitor though. No, A'son charges brazenly into Tiriana's weyr. He doesn't look to see if she's got any one else staying there with her either. He just walks in, stomping his dirt-encrusted boots along the way. "Tiriana! /Tiriana!/" The bronzerider pauses in the first chamber. He's a terrible sight, covered in dirt and scratches. There's also a foul stench coming from him.
With both of them having early morning duties, R'uen's usually out the door by this time, returned to Fort; and Tiriana's dragging herself out of bed to go running or head off to her own meetings. This morning, when her name starts getting yelled, she groans into her pillow, buries her face for a moment in it before pulling herself out of bed, getting half-dressed, and stumbling toward the voice. "What'd you forg--fuck!" The routine question breaks off into cursing and aa stunned expression when she sees A'son, and she drags her long-but-not-quite-buttoned shirt around herself tighter. At least she put on underwear, too. Really, though, it's all understandable. How many filthy, non-weyrmate bronzeriders really barge into the Weyrwoman's chambers at this hour of the morning?
A'son's dark eyes drag down Tirian's long, only in a shirt covered frame. Ordinarily when they came back up they might be full of some sort of physical appreciation. Now there's just a sort of dull registration. Like maybe he'll think about this later, maybe not. He simply looks exhausted, like this was probably a long night. "They tried to sack us. Leova and I got two. N'thei went to talk to one. He got clubbed over the fucking head in the woods. That guy got away. We've got the kid here." He takes a breath. "I want these fucking people. I want them."
"You--you fucking--" Tiriana's mouth just gapes, and she can't get much more out. She half-turns away to try buttoning up her shirt so she doesn't have to hold it the whole time, but it's hard when her hands are shaking this much. She eventually fumbles it buttoned, taking deep breaths while A'son elaborates. "He got clubbed." If A'son's going to be fantasizing about her later, then she's going to be fantasizing about N'thei getting beat over the head. "But you--you got one. You got one? You fucking, you fucking, fuck--. Fuck! Where?" It's early, she's already got about two surprises too many this morning; forgive her if she's not the most coherent thing ever.
There's a tired wave of his hand. "He's going to live. He's built like a tank." For her sake, he averts his eyes to watch the wall while Tiriana tries to close her shirt. "We don't know how much good he's going to be. He's a blathering, crying 'oh please don't kill me' fool. And he's young, a kid." There's a touch of something there, regret, pain, annoyance. Something. Whatever it is it holds his voice back from being too scathing in reference to their prisoner. "He's up in one of the empty weyrs." Eyes drifting back again to see if it's safe, "Stopped the caravan from getting robbed. The others made it through the night fine."
Where A'son's expression is full of mixed emotions, there's only hate and fury in Tiriana's eyes. "He's /mine/. I don't care if he doesn't know anything. We'll send him, them, all of them a message anyway," she promises, hands clenching. But, "The caravan's fine? He should be thankful it is this time. And--" She pauses, scowls as a new thought occurs. "Did K'del go?"
"Not yet. We need to keep him and not hurt him. He's leverage for a family out there. He's someone's /son/ or brother." A'son sounds tired this morning, so tired. But still with that whirlwind of emotions sweeping through his tone and voice, his eyes are burning slowly. Anger maybe. "They're fine, if a little terrified. N'thei stayed behind to calm the wagoneers down." For the last, he shakes his head. "No, he was here. He met me when I brought our new friend in. I have go meet him with Leova after this."
"And?" Tiriana is not dissuaded by that argument. "If they can't raise their kids better than to steal from /me/? They deserve to lose him. They probably agree with him--probably were the ones that told him this is what to do." She's not appeased at all, though news that K'del, at least, didn't get to go beat on anybody seems to relax her shoulders just a hair. "N'thei, calming people down." Snort. "You punch him for me--K'del. You kick the shit out of him, because I fucking told him, if anything went down, he was taking me with him."
"And /I/ don't want you to lay a single finger on that kid. Do you hear me?" A'son's voice suddenly grows sharp, like he's someone that's been pushed way too far all evening. He stops biting his lip and closing his eyes. "Look. I understand. They probably do. But I want to use him as leverage. I can't do that if you fuck him or do something." There's a little shudder to his shoulders, "I'm not punching K'del for you. If you guys had an agreement and he broke it, you hit him. You didn't miss anything exciting anyway."
Tiriana's eyes narrow at A'son's order, her mouth a thin line. "Are you ordering /me/?" she snaps in return. "You be careful, A'son. I'll leverage his dead body if I want to. We'll do what we have to with him." She glowers, whatever hint of relaxation might have been there with the good news, now gone. "Fine. I'll hit him myself. Don't tell /me/ I didn't miss any excitement, when you finally got to get your hands on the fuckers who are messing with our Weyr."
"What, what are you going to do to me? Piss on me?" At which point A'son practically rips his jacket off and throws it onto the floor by her feet. "Because someone already /did/ that. You will not do anything to his body. You will not hurt him or so help me." He holds his hands up to her and his voice drops though it's absolutely seething, "I almost killed someone. I almost beat the living shit out of him until he was dead and the only reason I stopped was N'thei. I don't want to hear your whining crap about missing excitement. There wasn't anything exciting about wanting to kill someone. Really wanting to kill someone." Then he's dropping his hands, staring at them with a shake. "I have to go. I have to go."
"You think I haven't wanted that before?" Tiriana says, harshly. "Don't go if you can't handle it. If you can't handle doing what you have to do. Yes, shit happens, but they brought it on themselves and you don't have a damn thing to be sorry about." Somebody else might make it into a cheer-up pep talk; with Tiriana, it's just coldly furious still, her own anger unabated. She says, "Go."
"You're a little girl. You don't have /any/ idea." A'son answers, voice rough. "You think everything is fists and punching people." The shake is still there and the hands go through his hair. "Don't touch him." A firm pressing of his lips together before he leaves. And leaves his scuzzy jacket behind too.
He leaves the jacket, and Tiriana, still fuming, stares at it. Probably debating what evil things she can do to it; but really. After it's pissed on, what's left? She takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment. Then she reaches out to snag it in one hand and go chasing after him before he can get off the ledge, even if she's still only half-dressed. "A'son."
A'son doesn't even turn around. "No. If you're going to hit me or something. No." He's stalking off and away, but he'll stop a salf distance off to look at her. Suspiciously. He did push the line in there. He's prepared for something to sail at his head apparently.
But there's not. Tiriana stops there when he does, taking just one more hesitant step toward him, bare feet shifting on the cold early morning stone. She holds his jacket out at arm's length. A deep breath, lower lip bitten for a moment; then, "I'm sorry."
A'son stares at that outstretched jacket. He looks at it with distaste but slowly puts his hand out there to take it. "It's alright." There's a shake of his head. "I'm sorry. I don't like... be like this." He wipes his face, jacket-holding arm falling to his side. "I'll be back again. But cleaner next time."
Tiriana passes the jacket over, but lingers even with that accomplished. "Should have first this time," she tells him. "Wasn't that urgent." It's half an apology in its own way, as she glances away for just a moment before her eyes cut back to his. "Thank you."
There's a rough laugh, "I'm just so tired. I couldn't get myself moving again if I stopped, I'm afraid." A'son does that face rubbing again, "Don't worry about it. I'm doing what I'm should be doing."
"I know," says Tiriana. She pauses again, just for a moment, then nods once. "Still. Thank you," she repeats, taking a half step back finally, apparently releasing him this time.
"Well. You're welcome. I think." A'son starts to take his back-steps away. "Good night, or morning. Or something. Sorry for waking you." After this he'll turn and disappear off. The sun just now breaking over the horizon and starting a new day.