Who

D'wane, H'rik

What

H'rik get involved with breaking up a brawl at Southern, and learns a lesson from D'wane.

RP tag scene!

When

It is evening of the sixteenth day of the third month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Brig, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 14 Oct 2017 23:00

 

d-wane_default.jpg H'rik2.jpg

brig.jpg

Brig

It's clean — that's more than can be said for most similar locations around Pern. There are sturdy bars to keep that which would try to leave, in; and sparce furnishing enough to keep those who would want to enter, out. Each private cell is equipped with a latrine and cot; the group cells contain bunks. There is no privacy to be found in the brig of Southern: only meagre are the comforts offered those who break the laws of the land.


D'wane may not be a guard any more, but old habits die hard. The big wingsecond was all set to enjoy a nice, peaceful night in the Kitten, but things did not go according to plan. A dragonpoker tournament got a bit heated, someone said something about someone's mother… turns out one rider actually had slept with the other's mother and well, punches went flying. And friends jumped in. Before the guards could show up, D'wane had already jumped in to try and break things up and well, he stayed to help clean things up even when the guards had showed up to do their job. Right now the last of the miscreants have been tossed in the brig for now and he's over in the corner with a pack of ice being held to his face. Someone's going to have a really nasty black eye. That someone is D'wane.

Though relatively new to Parhelion Wing, H'rik has quickly been moulded into a little guard. So much for a quiet night drinking at Southern with a friend - when he saw things kicking off, H'rik waded in to help out. Fortunately, he's escaped injuries worse than a few bruises from clumsy punches, but now he's done helping and the actual guards have taken over things, he's able to see someone else wasn't quite so lucky. "Yikes," H'rik comments sympathetically as he walks from the cells to D'wane in his corner of suffering. "You okay?" He's not much of a healer, but he's seen enough injuries in the Pit to at least check on the big Wingsecond.

"Huh?" It's probably not surprising that D'wane didn't notice the other bronzerider's approach considering that's the side of his face that currently has a big ol' sack of ice held up to it. He takes off the icepack for a moment to get a better look at the newcomer as if trying to place him before his eyes actually fall on the foreign knot. "Probably." That's questionable. It's very, very red and already showing some purple. "How the fuck did you get involved in that?" A finger points towards the cells.

It's not an injury H'rik hasn't seen before, so there's no wincing from him. No, it's the (probably very obvious truth) he's going to come out with. "You're gonna have a nice black eye from that, by the looks of things." He looks a little surprised when D'wane goes with the direct question, but the surprise turns to realisation as he hooks a chair with his foot to sit down. "Oh right. I'm with Parhelion Wing at Igen - we help the guards there with their duties. Sorting out fights is just one part of the job."

D'wane just stares at H'rik's brilliantly obvious observation for a moment. Staring with one fully open eye and one half open one. "No shit." Ice back on that black eye for the moment. It's already starting to melt and leak a bit. "Sorting out fights at Igen is part of your job. You're a long way from home." In fact, the other half of the world.

H'rik looks done at his boots when D'wane's reply comes. Digging that hole there, H'rik. "Hard not to help when trouble starts," he admits, before adding, a touch defensively: "were they in your Wing? Is that why you tried to stop them?"

D'wane snorts at the defensive response from the younger rider. "Yeah," He'll at least agree on the hard not to help part. "None were in my wing, but I'm a fucking wingsecond." Since his jacket and his knot aren't around at the moment so he'll just clarify that in case somehow H'rik missed it in all the commotion of the fight and cleaning up after it.

H'rik is going to ignore the snorting. He's always been fairly level-headed, but rising to a fully defensive mode to another Weyr's rider - and a Wingsecond at that, apparently - in their own Weyr isn't exactly in the handbook of 'things to do as a rider'. "Ah. Yeah. Makes sense." He lapses into silence then, not entirely sure what to say, and examines the sleeve of his jacket where he thought he'd felt it tear earlier. Easier than staring at D'wane, anyway. "Sorry, if I overstepped," he adds, apparently feeling the need to sort-of apologise, though he still doesn't look at D'wane. There's no sarcasm in his words, just a plain apology.

D'wane just lets that silence linger as he takes a moment to poke at his black eye. Sometimes you just got to see how far the bruising goes and yep, it's pretty far. At the apology, he shrugs. "Can't say I wouldn't have done the same if it happened at Igen." Then there's a beat. "And I also can't say I wouldn't yell at one of my riders for being an idiot and possibly getting themselves hurt if they had done the same thing."

"I'm sure it'd be appreciated, if you did," H'rik says. Finished prodding at his sleeve, he sits back in his chair and looks over at the bronze rider again. Yep. Big. Definitely good in the middle of a brawl, as he's proved tonight. "Heh. Yeah. I doubt my Wingleader would enjoy the paperwork if I'd gotten hurt. Fortunately, no harm done."

Even though H'rik hadn't been injured, the draconic grapevine is pretty swift at spreading news. Who knows if R'xim is or isn't going to chew out the bronzerider for tonight's extracurriculars? "Appreciated by Igen's guards, sure." D'wane will nod slightly to that. What guards aren't going to be happy that there's at least one less rowdy brawler for them to have to sort out? "But appreciated by Southern? Fucking political quagmire."

H'rik shifts his shoulders to adjust his jacket to a better position. It gives him a chance to feel how badly bruised he might end up being. Not too bad. He'll live. Maybe he can even hide it, if R'xim doesn't find out and quiz him about tonight's shenanigans (good luck with that). "Ah. That bad, huh?" He's fishing a tiny bit for some more info on this political situation D'wane's mentioned, if nothing else but for a topic of conversation while they're sat there together in the post-fight comedown.

D'wane gives H'rik another stare as if seriously doubting the guy's intelligence, but he's going to give a little headshake and give him the benefit of the doubt. "You're a new rider?" Just to double check. "Wings and Weyrs can get mighty touchy over who is doing what where." That might also be because a lot of D'wane's experience is with High Reaches. Nothing every good comes out of the whole Crom situation. Ever.

"Uh, relatively, I guess. I've been in the Wings a few months, now." If H'rik is feeling a touch defensive, still, he's hiding it well behind some pleasant friendliness, and a willingness to give that info up about himself, though he looks a little uncertain as he watches D'wane.

"You'll learn," D'wane is just going to lean back in his chair until one of the guards brings over some hides. Looks like someone has some hidework to do considering he was an eyewitness and then a participant. Is H'rik's name going down on that hidework? Probably. "Remember that your main responsibility is to your own Weyr. Don't do anything that would keep you from being able to fight Thread there." Lecture time? Maybe. It's certainly not much of one.

H'rik looks abashed, and by way of something for his hands to do, starts buttoning up his jacket. It was undone in the warmth of the Kitten, but he's feeling a chill for more than one reason, now. "Duly noted." Somehow, he feels a bit like a Weyrling again, being taught the ways of a rider. "Anything you want me to write? Or sign?" Seeing as how the inevitable hidework has arrived, courtesy of that helpful guard.

At least D'wane isn't look up to catch the abashed look on H'rik's face. He's got some serious writing to do. "You can write down a statement." He'll even give a spare piece of hide over. Surely he's not going to need the entire stack that overly helpful guard gave him. Unfortunately, he only has one pencil though, but he'll point over towards one of the desks. "See Dieshan." That was apparently the one that brought the hidework over in the first place. He should know where supplies are kept.

Writing a statement! That's better than being told off for interfering at another Weyr. Though what he writes could be incriminating. Of course, first he needs something to write with, and D'wane has the only pencil nearby. "Thanks." To Dieshan it is, who gives H'rik some weird looks as he finds, rather slowly, a pencil for the Igenite. H'rik returns slowly to his chair, frowning as he considers what to write. Crossing one leg over the other, he props the piece of hide on the upper leg and starts to write, slowly as he considers the statement carefully. His overall writing, at least, seems to flow easily enough.

And so that's how the next hour or so goes. Quietly filling out all the hidework that comes after a bar fight. Eventually both D'wane and H'rik will be free to go to their respective homes. Not much more else needs to be said.

Add a New Comment