Clementine, Cha'el


Cha'el faces Clementine's dissatisfaction for having interfered in her personal life.


It is midmorning of the thirteenth day of the fifth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr, Inner Caverns

OOC Date 12 Mar 2016 22:00


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"I'm fine. Do you want to pass that along to K'vvan?"


Inner Caverns

As straightforward as can be, the hallowed halls of Southern's innards are blessed with a prolific cultivation of wild glows, tended in a way to illuminate the valuted arches with warm light. The halls themselves are a mix of rough-hewn wall and carefully-carved architecture, stunning in contrast and beauty. All the passageways are well-kept, here, though certain paths show heavier wear: the corridors terminating in the baths, the latrines, and the main thoroughfare that moves through to the Living Caverns beyond.

Clementine's day takes her through a twisty loop of the weyr. Breakfast in the living caverns, then to her (and Ione's) office to pick up or drop off paperwork. Then it's to the crafter complex, then back again for lunch and then the offices and then… Well anyway, all that's to say she's on her way now from the living cavern towards the office and just really starting her day. The ever present guard is trailing behind her, looking bored. And she's milling through the crowds, looking at things on a clipboard while trying not to crash into anyone in the morning crowd.

One assumes Cha'el's day is possibly a little less complicated than that of a goldrider. PT, drills, sweeps, paperwork…Oh. Wait. Paperwork. While evenly shared between himself and K'lir, its still an evil that is the bane of his existence. Now, with a stack of loose hides and a folder or two tucked under an arm and a mug of klah in the other, he like Clementine, is trying to traverse the hazard of the inner caverns without too much incident. It helps that he's tall but having a runaway kid escaped from the nursery caverns plough into your legs, really doesn't. There's a flail of arms as the little boy becomes tangled in his legs. Klah everywhere. A surprised yell of warning that sounds something like, "Timber," and then, rather than possibly stomp on the little one, the Weyrsecond goes down with a thud. Flat on his back with the air knocked out of his lungs for a moment he lies there looking a little stunned, his paperwork fluttering down around him like giant mocking snowflakes.

Unsurprisingly the crowd around Cha'el thins considerably as he yells and then when he falls to the ground. And again not surprisingly is the human capacity for ignoring people crashing to the ground, dropping their things and not helping out. Clementine doesn't possess that ability and while she hasn't looked thrilled the last few times she's seen the brownrider in council chambers, she still kneels down to help pick up his papers. "Are you alright?" She asks crisply, shuffling together a pile of misc papers with her own clipboard tucked under her arm.

All it takes is for someone to stand on his fingers and Cha'el jerks up with a yelp into a sitting position and rolls into a crouch, his poor fingers held to his chest, glaring after the shapely pair of legs that had caused the offence. Maybe he had inadvertently insulted her at one point and this was the woman's revenge. "Clementine." Surprise is followed by an upward tick of mouth. Friendly in the face of her crisp query. "Aye. I'm fine." Or he will be once his fingers stop throbbing. "Got tackled by a midget." Wry smile there as he helps gather up the last few sheets of his work. "How you doing?" Sincere inquiry there as he stands and tucks his shirt and then his sweater down.

The papers once neatly squared away are handed back over to the weyrsecond so that she can move to her feet once more. "Good. You should increase your combat skills if you're able to be overcome by midgets." Clementine comments dryly, smoothing out the folds of her skirts. "I'm fine. Do you want to pass that along to K'vvan?" There's a lift of her eyebrow and pulls the clipboard over her chest.

A smile is flashed in gratitude when his work is handed back to him. Its about then when he notices the great big klah stain now spread across the front of the blue jumper he's wearing. Ugh!! Now he's going to have to change before his next meeting. "They can be very tricky." Clementine is told in a very serious tone. The accompanying expression of faux gravity slips and the brownrider is left eyeing the young goldrider carefully. "Uh…sure. If you really need him to know that?" He doesn't get it.

"I don't. But I figured I'd ask first so that the next time I see him and he says you told him that I'm fine, I won't be surprised." Clementine's look is weighty, even if Cha'el isn't getting it. She glances at the klah all over his clothes. "I wasn't aware the last time we spoke that you were as good about keeping things to yourself as a slotted spoon." Man, that's really not nice. "Your shirt is going to stain."

"Ah." The glowbasket unlids and sheds some light on the situation. However, Cha'el does not look as apologetic as maybe he should. "You're pissed because I grabbed the fucker by the ear," figuratively speaking, "and tried to shake some sense into him." Another glance down at his jumper. Yup, its probably ruined. Attention back up to Clementine. "Did it work?" He asks, unabashed over his meddling.

"I never asked you to shake any sense into him." Clementine is quick to point, definitely not looking any happier that he's not apologetic. "Did it work?" She repeats the question, closes her eyes and starts to silently count. "It's mortifying to have someone tell you that a person got in their face, because you've said something. You're his friend, but it's not your job to fix things for him or me by proxy." When she opens them again it's to add on the answer to his question, "Sort of."

Cha'el's expression is a harper's study in blank slate. Not a flicker of emotion or what might be going on in that shrewd head of his leaks out across his features. Even when Clem closes her eyes, he just stands there and quietly waits, bright blue eyes trained on her while the traffic of the inner caverns flows about them. Then, after she's finished speaking and given him an answer, however carefully phrased it might be, a corner of his mouth hitches upward. "You're welcome."

"…No." Clementine is definitely not thankful to Cha'el for his meddling, despite whatever the outcome was. Speaking slowly and carefully so that he can understand, "Stay out of my personal life." Which should be easy enough to manage on her end of the equation. She'll just never breathe another non-professional word to Southern's Weyrsecond again. For the rest of her life. How he and the greenrider deal with each other? Not an ounce of control there. "Have a lovely day, Weyrsecond." And exit.

That leaves Cha'el standing there in the middle of the swirling crowd, watching as Clementine leaves. Only once she's gone from sight do his eyes narrow and a muscle ticks in the back of his jaw . "Message received loud and clear," he mutters to himself and takes himself off to change, ignoring the crunch of porcelain from his broken mug under his boot.

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