K'vvan, Trek


K'vvan confronts Trek about the changes in Arroyo, but Trek doesn't want to talk about it. Perseverance pays off, but buttons are pushed on both sides.


It is midmorning of the tenth day of the second month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


North Bowl, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


kvv7.jpg trek02.jpg


North Bowl

In the quieter spaces of the Northern Bowl, there is less activity; all is kept serene for young, forming draconic bonds. Beneath the sweep of skies' ever-changing colors, this round little panorama hosts the short distances between the Hatching Cavern and the weyrlings' ultimate destination: the barracks and training grounds. More packed dirt and tiny little hillocks than clean white sand, the floor is an uneven thing, a startling trap for the unwary and the clumsy. Further onward, the Ground Weyrs beckon, a haven for those who may seek medical attention.

It is the fortieth day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

The temperature actually doesn't matter much when one has been working hard. Arroyo's drills have just ended, and K'vvan and Nadeeth were doing just that. Now, with the drills over, they have settled in the North Bowl to do the post-drill check of wings, talons and all other assorted body parts. K'vvan's gaze moves around the bowl as he goes though, keeping an eye on those who come and go.

Trek and Kanyith begin their descent, the blue's tight spiral about the steadiest it's been in months. When he lands, however, it's with a wobbling few running steps, and he's far slower to fold his Thread-injured wing than the other. Even so, he's flying. Trek pays little mind to those around her as she dismounts and starts detaching bundles from her lifemate's riding straps, setting them neatly to the side. Kanyith, however, gives a soft croon of greeting to Nadeeth, which makes Trek turn quickly to look. Spying K'vvan and his green, her hands pause in the act of reaching for another bundle. A moment later, she instead pushes her goggles up onto her helmet and gives the other rider a small, quick salute.

K'vvan has caught sight of that circling blue, and watches as it lands. He is already watching when Trek does that little salute, and an eyebrow shoots upwards. "You're good to go Nadeeth, go say hi to Kanyith." With permission given (not that she needed it) the green moves across the bowl, stretching out ribbons of greeting to the blue, even as an audible murr reaches out. K'vvan follows, eying Trek and measuring his words. "Been a while."

Kanyith, still in the process of being unloaded, can't really move to greet Nadeeth, but he stretches out his neck and makes another small sound before easing into a light conversation about how good it is to fly and feel the freezing air against his wings again. Trek tugs down her scarf (though this one is a dark charcoal grey wool, rather than the lovely Arroyo silk scarves), and nods to K'vvan, adding a moment later, "It has." She studies him a moment with her hand resting on Kanyith's shoulder, then adds, "I heard you and Nadeeth were back with Arroyo. Going all right?"

Nadeeth happily falls into that conversation, as it stay slight and friendly. No challenges to games today, just simple enjoyment in the company of another. K'vvan stands, feet slightly spread as he watches Trek. There are many things he could say at this moment, but instead, he chooses a round about answer to her question. "Nadeeth is glad to be back in familiar surroundings. It's not the same. Why did you leave?"

He just had to ask! A flush creeps into Trek's cheeks, deepening the cold-chapped pink tinge that was there already. Without a scarf or goggles to hide behind now, she can only turn away, busying herself with unloading the last bundle from Kanyith's side before she ducks under his neck to start with the others. "It was best for the wing," she answers, voice muffled. The reason is clear when she returns from Kanyith's other side, having to use her chin to balance a burlap sack on top of a crate. By the look of things, she's bringing new dragonhealing supplies to the Weyr. Without anything further to handily distract herself, though, she has to face K'vvan again. Or at least give him a wary side glance. "So… um. So you're… you know. Feeling better?" Not drinking, is the likely undertone.

"Give some of that to me." K'vvan reaches out to take the sack from on top of the crate, and cradle it in his hands. "And Bullsh*t. Arroyo was fine under you and now it has a wingleader and no established wingseconds. So what the f*ck happened?" There is no ire in K'vvan's blunt reply to Trek's answer. He's looking at her directly, green eyes steady as he watches to see what the woman's answer would be.

Trek slowly sets the crate on one of the others, then tugs her jacket a little more snug around her shoulders. Only then does she fully face K'vvan again, no more pensive side glances. "N'cal will do just fine. And how's he supposed to choose wingseconds while he's still just a temporary wingleader?" she counters, needlessly defensive. "Or was he supposed to give you your knot back? Is that it?" The leather in her riding gloves creaks softly as her hands ball into fists pressed hard against her thighs. "And as for what happened—." She bites off whatever it is she was about to say. Whatever it was, it's strong enough to cause Kanyith to break off his own conversation to watch her for a moment. "I failed. That's what happened."

"He'll be the full wingleader soon enough, who else would they choose?" It's not a question that K'vvan is actually asking, and he moves on with it, keeping his gaze on Trek's. While her ire rises, he seems remarkably… still. "No. My rank was stripped rightly, and we need time to adjust to the wing before N'cal would be stupid enough to give it back." Silence falls before, finally, "You created something that Igen needed. A place for those of us who don't fit anywhere else. How the hell is that failure?"

"Created?" Trek asks, voice just a hair shy of shrill, and with hazel eyes that have taken on that certain sheen of unspilled tears. She turns away from K'vvan again, though, focusing on Kanyith's straps while surreptitiously scrubbing away the moisture. It's dangerous to cry when it's cold, after all. When she tugs the leather straps free, though, there's little else left to distract herself. It only takes a moment to neatly coil the leather, which is dropped next to the cargo. "Maybe I did," she finally says, though she doesn't try to meet his gaze again. "But it came with a price, and it's time I finished paying." When she finally looks at him again, her eyes are clear, but her expression is also a little closed off. "I'm glad you got the help you needed, K'vvan. And I hope you're able to find your stride with Arroyo again."

K'vvan seems to have a particular skill when it comes to making people cry. It happens with a frequency which to most people is alarming. But perhaps the greenrider just takes it in stride now? "I wouldn't have gotten it if you hadn't done what you did. For that alone… Trek." K'vvan shifts the bag he had taken, and drops it on the ground. A hand reaches out towards Trek, and offer for her to take it. "Nadeeth and I owe you a debt."

Trek watches the extended hand as if it might bite her, but in the end, rather than taking the hand, she presses her own on top of it and away. "You owe me nothing, K'vvan. Nothing." It's a dull, dark tone of voice that speaks of other things left unsaid, and at least for the moment, she leaves them that way. She takes the bag he dropped and tosses it on the stack of crates, all of this still supervised by Kanyith. "If I've done anything good, it was only because someone had to," she adds a moment later, sounding forced. She picks up two of the stacked crates and glances across the bowl in the direction of the dragonhealer area. "And someone has to get these put away, so… I'm going to do that, too."

"You can say that, but where I come from, a debt is a serious thing. I always repay." Which is probably half of his issues right there, but K'vvan isn't about to go into that. Rather, he'll allow his gaze to move over to to the crates. "So I'm going to start by helping you shift that sh*t into the dragonhealer area." Which means he isn't asking permission, as he steps past the healer and picks up a crate.

Trek doesn't say anything, but the look she gives K'vvan just then is half exasperation and half trepidation. With a last look over her shoulder toward Kanyith and Nadeeth, the bluerider begins crossing the bowl toward the dragonhealer cavern, which is blissfully empty just now. She stacks her two crates near one of the shelving units. Inside the cavern, they're sheltered from any wind, which is nice. But also from sunlight, which is not so nice. Trek hugs her arms around herself and turns as if to head right back to the dragons without a word, but her feet slow a couple steps from the line of sunny, wintery light. It's only a brief pause, however. There is work to be done, and even with two of them, it would take another two trips to get it all moved. Not the most logical of parking jobs, but Kanyith wanted to chat with Nadeeth. What's a girl to do?

K'vvan doesn't force the issue as he helps move those crates. He watches his former wingleader's movements in silence, noting her pause in the sunlight before she disappears back outside. Assuming that the healers will unpack on their own, he sets the crates aside and moves back out. His steps dog hers in silence as another set of crates is hefted, and carried. Perhaps he could bring more, but they're bulky. "Other than the fact that i'm a pissant," because he is, "what is with the look like I'm about to bite you?"

Trek sets down the last crate and slowly straightens before giving K'vvan another look. Her jaw works for a moment as she snugs her gloves back into place, then crosses her arms and tucks her hands underneath in an attempt to keep them warm. "You're not a pissant, K'vvan," she counters quietly. "Not to me, at least." So encouraging. For several seconds, it seems that might be all she's going to say, but inside the quieter, darker confines of the cavern, she finally seems to relax, if only a little bit. "I hate feeling like there are things I should say but can't. Or could say but shouldn't. But… really. You don't owe me anything, K'vvan. If I'd been half the wingleader you needed, I would have stepped in a long time ago. Not waited until things got so bad I had no choice."

"What holds you back from saying them?" K'vvan is pushing now, and it's a little weird. He's not typically one to get involved in someone else's business, but he's trying to reach out. It perhaps is clumsy and comes across strange, but he's doing it. "You're no longer a wingleader. There's only so much trouble that can be stirred up by your words that can't be brushed under." His eyes seek her out in the cavern as he sets down his crate again, and rises. His hands get tucked into pockets in his leather coat as he waits.

Trek laughs, but it's not the good kind of laugh. It's the kind that's just this side of tears, as her eyes get all shiny again. She's fighting it, but it's not until she looks over at the taller rider that it becomes obvious just how frayed her self-control is right now. She mutters a quiet word that is most likely "shells", then sinks onto the nearest crate so she can cradle her head in her hands for a moment, with her fingertips gripping the edge of her riding helmet. After several seconds, though, she removes her helmet and sets it on the ground, then looks up at the other rider again. "K'vvan, I'm no longer wingleader because I'm broken. And I don't know if I can be fixed. The only reason W'rin even gave me Arroyo is because…" Her voice falters, but she's gone this far. "Because I forced him to. And it killed me to do that… maybe literally. I guess the jury is still out."

If K'vvan was a touchy-feely person, or Trek was Sienna, perhaps K'vvan would offer the woman a hug. AS it stands, this is K'vvan, and the handclasp earlier was the extend of his physcal feels for a bit longer. He does, however, move to sit on the crates. "Hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure everyone in this sharding weyr is broken. So, you're in good company. As for being forced… W'rin doesn't do anything that would hurt the weyr. Ever. So whatever you did? It apparently wasn't bad enough for him to stop it."

Trek rubs her hands together slowly and looks toward the sunny bowl, though the chilled temperatures mean there aren't many out and about who don't need to be. "Maybe," she allows in a quiet voice. "Or maybe it was just bad enough I gave him no choice." Her eyes are wide and staring, her breath deep and shaky before she glances at K'vvan again. "At the time, I'd convinced myself it was necessary. That W'rin's rigid view of us would break the Weyr. That something had to be done, right then and there. So I forced his hand, and sold my soul in the process. And what hurts most is, if he'd called my bluff, I don't know what I would have done. The fact Arroyo has been successful does not erase what I did."

K'vvan listens. And he actually consider's Trek's words… before tossing them as nonsense. "You did what you did. Nothing's going to erase that. And if you choose to feel like s*it about it, then that's your choice." He leans back and rubs a hand across his head, bare as it is even in the cold. "That's what I'm learning. There's a bed, and it's been made. Time to sleep in it. So, what are you going to do now? Hide in Mirage, do your dragon healing, and tear yourself apart till Nadeeth weeps with you and Kanyith take yourself between forever?"

"I'm not suicidal," Trek quietly replies, looking toward the bowl again. They can't quite see their lifemates from here, but it's easy enough to tune into the resumed draconic chitchat. Trek's eyes soon refocus, though, then she shrugs. "I don't know what I'm doing. I never felt comfortable as wingleader. It hadn't really been my longterm goal, I guess you could say. I wanted to help Igen. Show the Weyr… show the world we can be judged on our merits, not our dragons' hides." She shrugs a glove over her face and looks over her shoulder at the tools of her resumed trade. "This feels more natural. More… hopeful," she admits, sneaking a glance at K'vvan. "Like maybe I can reclaim my soul. Live again."

"So, mission accomplished. You did what needed to be done." K'vvan hasn't taken his gaze off of Trek while she speaks, his green eyes focused and bright, even in the dimness. (He should have stopped drinking a long time ago.) "So now plan. Just kicking the breeze and waiting for it to stir up sh*it. Hate to tell you, but having done that? It doesn't work. What is your goal?"

"My goal?" Trek asks, her gaze rest on K'vvan briefly before falling toward the floor between them, then away. "Living isn't a goal?" She crosses her arms and leans them against her lap, huddling from the cold, her thoughts, or both. "My goal is to be the person I was meant to be, rather than the one I thought people needed me to be. To be strong and helpful rather than frail and deceitful. My goal is to stop hating myself. What were your goals, K'vvan?"

K'vvan finally stands. "Living isn't a goal. It's an excuse to keep yourself from becoming more." The way she phrases her last question causes him to pause. "I didn't have goals. I convinced myself they weren't necessary. Convinced myself working to become more was a waste of time because I was a waste of time." It's not something he has completly crawled out of. But it has been started, and K'vvan's going to hold on to it with both hands. "My goal now? It's to fix what I broke. I can't fix all of it. Somethings are just made to stay shattered. But at least I can try till Thread makes a different decision for Nadeeth and myself." His gaze has finally moved away from the woman to rest outside.

"Then at the heart of the matter, we share the same goal," Trek replies quietly, also getting to her feet. "I guess time will tell just how attainable our goals are." She stuffs her gloved hands into her jacket pockets and studies K'vvan for a couple seconds before she smiles slightly. "I need to grab Ky's straps, then check in with my wing. Good luck with Arroyo, K'vvan." She salutes, then turns toward Kanyith and Nadeeth, pausing only long enough to gather the blue's coiled straps before she begins the climb up to the leadership ledges.

Add a New Comment