==== September 19th, 2013
==== Q'fex, Th'seus
==== Q'fex has a question for Th'seus. He has some theories.

Who Q'fex, Th'seus
What Q'fex has a question for Th'seus. He has some theories.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 9 days until the 12th pass
Where Council Room

qfex_ohgod.PNG Th%27seus3.png


Council Room
An open room, with oddly-tiled floors: is that a chessboard?

Every seven, Q'fex convenes all of the wingleaders for a weekly meeting — and it's not one of those fun-and-games yawn meetings, either, but drilldown meetings wherein specific weaknesses are hammered out, wing tensions are baldly pointed to, and people who don't cooperate - or worse, wingleaders who think themselves better than the others - are subject to hardcore scorn and personal perjoratives. (PS: hardcore SCORN, not the other thing.) Q'fex, at least, can roll with the punches as easily as he doles them out (which is frequent), and while the meetings tend to last a good portion of the morning, spirits are typically high when the wingleaders disperse. This time, he's gestured for Th'seus to stay, and waits patiently for Liger's wingleader to LEAVE, the younger man dawdling as if he desperately wants to eavesdrop.

And these wing meetings are always SO MUCH FUN. Th'seus acknowledges the request to stay, even as he collects what hides and other crap he's brought with him. Shuffling them together, he too casts a long look towards Liger's wingleader. His expression is expectant. As in, he expects him to get out of there sometime today so that he can get out of there sometime today. When the other man finally can't find an excuse to stay around ANY longer, the bronzerider will clear his throat and get to his feet. Even though he's not leaving himself, he's now switching his attention over to Q'fex. "Sir?"

"What the fuck is going on with our goldriders?" Q'fex uncerimoniously asks Th'seus, after gesturing at the discreetly-posted guard to go make sure Liger's wingleader gets out of earshot. Dumbass politickers. Q'fex, obviously, doesn't ALWAYS adhere to a position of political correctness… at least where internal wing politics are concerned. "You got any clue? Because I've got nothin'." Apparently this is supposed to make sense, because he leans a hand against the back of the chair he's been sitting in and squints at Th'seus for an answer.

"…" That would be his initial reaction as he looks on at Q'fex. Perhaps he wasn't expecting quite that that question from the other man. His eyebrows draw together and Th'seus waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the exit. "One of them is fucking insane, that's probably part of the problem. But Lendai is the Weyrwoman, so." Unless the Weyrleader plans on trying to off her, there's not much that can be done about that. "Bailey and Hannah both seem to be… reasonable?" The upward lilt has some hesitation in it and soon comes the clarification of, "Though you ask one of them not to climb up on a rickety platform of death no matter what happens and she goes and climbs right the fuck onto it. Along with 'we shouldn't go onto this ship in the middle of night' and she dashes right up there."

"I think she may be in love with you." Q'fex, to Th'seus, and his voice is serious. Then, to clarify: "Lendai." Because hello, what other goldrider could he possibly be talking about? Ahem. "She seemed to be all kinds of … emotional, where you are concerned. Apparently she was yelling about you and Hannah sleeping together, at the clutching." What? People don't tell Q'fex the truth and shit gets all stirred up, come on. However, he breaks off that line of inquiry to flat-out agree with the other man, shaking his head in ABSOLUTE EXASPERATION. "Because she thinks she knows so much fucking better than grown men who've ridden longer than she's been alive, but it's okay, because she's seen Thread, don't you know, and obviously she knows so much better than the rest of us." He violently twitches. "If she gets hurt by anything, ever again, I will fucking kill her." Q'fex. The Rational.

"Lendai?" The looks of disbelief and mild horror are neatly rolled up together in one neat ball on his face. Eyebrows hiked up, chin brought back and skeptical tone riddling his voice. "I somehow doubt that. She was just angry that Jedi and some helpers put them together a new platform. One that's actually stable and a reasonable distance from the ground. Because why graciously accept the hardwork, pride and clear love your riders and residents have for you? That would just be unthinkable." He shakes his head and tags on, "And she might have heard I had a small part to play in it. So she'll resent me forever, I'm sure. And once I offered to help her." He sighs then and brings a hand up to rub at his face, scratching at the perpetual line of scruff. "Women. I think it's just in her nature, to be contrary. I wish that sometimes she would listen, not all of us are fucking morons. Or out to get them because they're not men."

"Why is she so fucking crazy?" Q'fex is going to lose all his hair by digging his fingers into it, because that's what he's doing right now, ferociously slicking back his thick shock of hair before shaking his head. "I don't understand why these oldtimer women have to be such…" He looks sorely tempted to use a word entirely not appreciated by the fairer sex. It probably starts with a C. But he doesn't. There are ears everywhere, don'tchaknow. "One of the assistant headwomen.. she had a point, I thought. Lendai's doing this to get attention. Rationally, it makes sense for it to be you." He POINTS at his wingleader, brandishing that finger like an accusation. Then, "Well. At least she's fucking you." Massive assumptions, thy name is Q'fex.

"Sometimes when a person experiences a great trauma in their childhood, well. Maybe someone dropped her, I don't know." That started off as potentially really deep and then… Not so much. He watches Q'fex dig around at his scalp with a great deal of sympathy, lips pressed together as he listens and attempts to at least look thoughtful. When that finger gets pointed at him, he touches his own chest. "Excuse me?? It doesn't make any sense for it to be me. We've only ever had one interaction. She shook a hammer at me, yelled something about making a promise not to fuck me to someone and then screamed at me to leave." Whoever that someone might be. And clearly, he thinks they're only talking about Lendai now. Which is probably why he's looking so completely baffled. "She's a good looking woman, but I wouldn't touch her if I didn't have to. And I don't have to. So I won't be. She's all yours." Because Q'fex wants her? He guesses? Maybe? …Buh?

"Huh. Maybe," Q'fex comments, slowly, in thought. About the likelihood of Lendai being dropped on her head. "No, no, I'm not talking about Lendai. Trust me, I'm with you. I don't want to touch her either." Because the crazy could be CATCHING. "Anyhow, it makes no sense for Lendai to even like me, so that couldn't be it. I mean, think about it. No sense whatsoever. No… I'm talking about Hannah. And I get it, really. I mean. The idea of you two in bed together makes my head hurt, more from a logistical standpoint than aesthetic, but… you know. It makes sense. I just want to let you know I respect that, and I'm not going to…" continue making Hannah sandwiches, "…interfere." It's brusque, but rather genuine.

"…Well, then. She's doing it for some other person, because I think she pretty much wishes I would die." Th'seus is going to have none of this crazy theory that Lendai wants his attention. That next has him looking at Q'fex a little curiously, he looks caught somewhere between appearing puzzled and also a little touched. By him being genuine. He almost hates to say this next part, "We are not a couple and we're not sleeping together. At least, we haven't recently. Not that I don't want to and not that I'm not going to try again. Just- I-" Pause, pause. Uncomfortable man silence. "Was giving her some time after the flight. But thanks. For the lack of interference."

Q'fex pauses, tilts his head, considers Th'seus for a long moment. "Well, she broke it off with me. Our — thing." He waves, vaguely. "I think it was for you. She didn't say otherwise." FAINT PRAISE Fex, faint praise. "But. You have my word." And like THAT, a curtain closes, though they may know it not, a subject laid to rest that may otherwise open like Pandora's box to kick all of their asses. Th'seus, preventing apocalypses since the eleventh interval. "Well. That was it, wingleader. I appreciate Lynx' efforts out there. Your riders look sharp." Q'fex isn't one to give a lot of verbal encouragement, so that amounts to quite more than faint praise.

"Your thing." It doesn't sound like he's surprised but also it doesn't sound quite settled and alright with that fact either. However, Th'seus must sense the falling of the curtain because he chooses not to launch some sort of inquisition on the subject. You're all welcome. There's something vaguely amusing in the fact that he has no idea that he's prevented any sort of Pandora's box from exploding. Instead he simply nods his head, quietly and glances towards the exit. "Alright. Thank you, sir." …For everything? He collects that pile of hides, tips them to his forehead in a lazy kind of salute before getting the fuck out of there.

Thank God for Th'seus. Or Faranth, whatever. Pern pantheons are so crazy. Worshing dragon tails and bronze balls, it makes no sense. Q'fex doesn't watch Th'seus go, instead slumping down into his chair and moodily staring out across the room. His voice echoes into the silence, after the other bronzerider has left. "I need a fucking drink."

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