H'rik, Va'os


New-ish Southern Weyrleader meets Igen's new Weyrleader on 'neutral' grounds and get along fairly well. Helps that there was rum…


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


Red Butte, Keroon

OOC Date 03 Nov 2017 04:00



Red Butte

Far removed from Hold and Hall, out in the utter midst of the plains of Keroon, sits the unique, solitary stone dome that every weyrling most likely knows better than any other landmark on the face of Pern - the Red Butte. Rings of eroded bedrock and sandstone ring this small mountain like long-frozen ripples worn by weather, upheaval, and time. Valleys and scarps surround and fade into the varied strata of the plateau itself. From both the ground and the air, the strikingly-hued Red Butte remains one of the most impressive and recognizable features of the entire Northern Continent.

About a sevenday into their new role now, it's midmorning at Igen when Wendryth reaches out to Tsiroth at Southern, voice no less loud despite the physical distance between them. « TSIROTH! MY RIDER PROPOSES A MEETING BETWEEN HIM AND YOURS! THE LOCATION IS THUS! » No need to tell Wendy, the joy of telepathic communication is that it can great distances easily! What follows is the image of the Red Butte, that familiar solitary formation out in the Keroon plains. Wendy can be felt to be awaiting Tsiroth's answer, rather than withdrawing completely. Should the pair accept, what they will find on arrival at the Butte are both Wendryth and H'rik, the bronze sat at the very edge of the formation looking out at the impressive vista, while his rider has found a rock suitable to sit on, two mugs on the ground beside him, and something that looks suspiciously like a bottle of rum next to them. The newly-made Weyrleader looks casual enough, his riding jacket open to reveal a plain white shirt, his booted feet planted firmly on the ground as he waits to see if Va'os will appear.

Tsiroth is no stranger to loud and Wendryth’s message is acknowledge with a return of nebulous color and an epic guitar solo. It’s likely to be their last chance to venture far from Southern; there will be eggs on their Sands soon enough and he’s already done a fair job at pissing Khalyssrielth off. The Red Butte couldn’t have been more iconic or perfect a spot, being all but neutral in location. H’irk and Wendryth won’t have long to wait as Tsiroth appears high in the sky overhead and begins a rather reckless, steep descent that sees the deep chested bronze flaring his wings at the last second to land. Va’os will dismount shortly afterwards and it’s evident he’s cursing the bronze’s show off display. Tsiroth merely brushes him off, in favour of joining Wendryth, rumbling with cautious friendliness. “So your the poor bastard saddled with Igen now, eh?” Va’os just cuts right to the chase with greetings. That grin though, is genuine! So is the look at the two mugs and what could be rum! “And… you definitely know how to start things off.”

It's early days yet for Wendryth to piss Zsaviranth off. Maybe when the allure of his poetry wears off, that'll be when the trouble starts? Wendryth is first to turn his eyes skyward and watch Tsiroth's interesting descent. The Igen bronze is no territorial thing; indeed, he is quite the opposite to what one might expect when two leading bronzes meet, bugling a hearty greeting to the incoming Southerner. « WELL FLOWN! A BOLD DESCENT, AND WELL HANDLED INDEED, TSIROTH! » There's not the slightest hint of animosity as Tsiroth approaches, the other bronze most welcome to join him as the rumble is returned with a friendly one of his own. H'rik can't help but smile at Va'os's bluntness. "That'd be me. Thought I'd try to at least make a good impression for a first meeting," he laughs, as he picks up one of the mugs and offers it to Va'os, the rum making its way into his other hand, ready to pour a good amount of the stuff for the fellow Weyrleader. "Southern treating you well?"

« Is that how you woo’ed your lady fair? » Tsiroth’s teasing is likely an echo of Va’os’ own thoughts but the bronze by far does not mean it maliciously at all. He’ll settle himself comfortably nearby to Wendryth but not encroaching too far into the strange bronze’s space. “If this is your approach to any meeting?” Va’os will definitely hold out that mug for some of that rum. Who cares what time it is here in Keroon or, possibly, in Southern? “You’ll do just fine, I think. Kind of prefer the less formal approach.” If not unexpected! There’s a shrug of his shoulders, “Well enough? It’s been… a process. Lots of adjusting — a few blunders.” The usual! “You? How’s it been so far on your end?”

Wendryth probably would have answered the same whether it was malicious or not! « AYE, MY WORDS WERE WHAT WON OVER FAIR ZSAVIRANTH! » He still sounds particularly smug about the whole thing. No doubt in a few more sevendays the memory will have faded more and more. Until eggs appear on the sands and he remembers the importance of what he's done, anyway. H'rik fills Va'os mug about halfway, then pours a similar amount into his own mug, recapping the bottle and explaining as he sets the bottle back down: "I'm trying to see how well this approach goes for this sort of thing. I didn't want to drag you out here all formal-like." Straightening, he lifts his mug in a toast. "I thought it'd be good to meet another newer Weyrleader, so we can start things off on the right foot." He nods, a look of understanding with some sympathy mixed in for Va'os's situation. "Eh. I'm sure there's plenty of talk behind my back, people unhappy with a young usurper, that sort of thing." Wendryth gets a significant look. "But it's the way a Weyr works."

Tsiroth’s mind blossoms with vibrant color and a new musical riff — it’s a good cover to mask the amusement bubbling there too. He has NO IDEA why Wendryth insists on such LOUDNESS but he’s liking it! Va’os will lift his mug up in a similar toast to H’rik, once it’s full. “Some might frown at you for doing it like this but, y’know? Screw ‘em.” Okay, maybe not the best advice but he could be on to something! Better to stand on your own (within reason) rather than shadow someone, right? Knocking back a quick shot of the rum, he’ll give an appreciative grunt to the drink itself before he steps forwards to stand next to the other young bronzerider. “Yeah?” There’s a grimace of understanding shared with the other man, while his gaze turns out to the view around them. “Yeah, I know how that goes. All the talk, the looks of disapproval. Like they expect us to know everything and be perfect right out of the gates. Faranth forbid you make a mistake, too! Piss off any of your Wingleaders yet? I did that within a few days. Must be a record.” Sarcasm at its finest, here but Va’os adds a chuckled scoff to it and helps himself a little more to that rum. “Smart move on this place, by the way? Had either of us visited our turfs, you’d imagine the panic?”

« AND YOUR LADY, » Wendryth turns the questioning onto Tsiroth now, though in a companionable sort of way. « IS SHE A FAIR MAIDEN? » Obviously, in his eyes no gold could compare to Zsaviranth, but he has the feeling it's polite to ask after another gentleman's partner. H'rik takes a good glug of his rum. Through his connections, he knows where to get his hands on a good Igen rum, with a light enough flavour for a bit of day drinking. He watches the way Va'os takes in the vista, nodding here and there at things the man mentions. "Yup." There's solidarity with the other inexperienced Weyrleader, for sure. "Bronze riders are supposed to be ready to lead at the drop of a hat, right?" The joke comes, albeit dry. He, at least, can admit to not pissing off any Wingleaders. "Not…yet. No doubt that's yet to come, when one takes offence to some decision or another." He sounds relaxed enough about it, like he's accepted the inevitable. Then there's a lopsided grin for the choice of location. "Yup. And the rumours. I didn't realise quite how much you're in the spotlight, with this."

« Ah. » Tsiroth fumbles that answer and his music takes on a rather ominous note. « I’d not use the word ‘fair’ here. » More like terrifying? Not that he or Va’os will admit that (okay, Va’os would). « She is… is… » Shit. « Strong! Like iron. Nothing fair about it. » That’ll do. Right? Or is he just digging himself a good hole here? “Ugh, did you get fed that lecture too? I completely laughed it off,” Va’os explains, gesturing expressively with his hand and yet not even spilling a drop of rum while at it. “Oh, it wasn’t even a decision! I didn’t know one’s background and we’ll… Kind of put my foot in my mouth. So…” Oops? He’ll help himself to more rum, flashing an equally as lopsided grin back to H’rik. “The rumours can almost be hilarious, y’know? Just you wait. You’ll start hearing some pretty outrageous stuff.” And some not very funny things too but Va’os will skim right by the negative tones. He figures H’rik’s got enough sense to know it won’t be sunshine and rainbows!

Wendryth considers that description, turning it over and over in his mind. The mist of his mind's landscape seems to recede, and there's a hint of a moat, and perhaps the splash of a dolphin's tail in the still waters barely visible beneath the haze? « AH! A STRONG LADY! YES, THEY ARE A GOOD KIND. » Wendy approves of a girl with some fight in her! "I thought I was listening to it at the time, but I guess I never actually believed it," H'rik admits. Because going from heir to a bazaar family to a bronzerider was supposed to make him a nobody, or something. That worked out so well. "Ah. Well, it'll get forgotten eventually, right?" He offers as an attempt to ease any worries Va'os has about his faux pas. He drinks from his rum again, eyes smiling above the rim of the mug. "Oh, I'm just waiting for it. At least it gives the Weyr something new to spin wild tales from, huh?" He's probably well aware there's going to be some low points, but for now, he's happy to enjoy a lighter mood with his fellow Weyrleader. "You're still welcome to Search from Igen, if you need candidates for your clutch. I don't doubt there'll be plenty of people itching to have their time on the sands, whether it's at Igen or elsewhere."

Oh, Wendryth has no idea just how much ‘fight’ is there! Tsiroth is just relieved that the other bronze went for it without much further questioning. Can a dragon nervous laugh? He’d be doing it. « The best kind. » That might have been honesty there! Va’os scoffs, “Well, I mean. Kind of hard to believe it when there’s how many other bronzeriders out there? Odds are kind of high and I always figured us inexperienced young blood stood little chance…” Oh, how naive he is! “Eh, we’ll see. Some folk are good at holding grudges. Even for the simplest of mistakes!” He’d know a little about that, alright? At least H’rik has some standing, being from a prominent family. Va’os? Is an ex-criminal. The offer for Searching within Igen’s territory is met with a curious look and a quirked brow. “I’ll consider that and offer Southern’s in return, should neither of us be hard pressed.” No poaching if the numbers are low! Or some rule like that.

Wendryth gives a hearty rumble, shifting his wings and turning his gaze away from Tsiroth to let it rest, green-hued, on the beautiful vista. « Quite the sight, is it not? » The immensity of what he's looking at seems to subdue his voice, as he feels his place in the world. In Igen he's the top dog, so to speak, but out here… he feels more like a speck of bronze on the landscape. One of two right now, any way. "Heh," H'rik can't help a little chuckle at Va'os's thoughts, so similar to his own. "Yeah, I thought that too. Guess we were both wrong." There's a lift of the mug to that, and then he finishes what remains in there. "Heh. What's that thing they say? 'You can please everyone some of the time, or some of the people all of the time'? I figure that's the way I'm gonna look at it." he nods in acceptance of that two-way agreement. "Your new gold rider there is from Igen, so I've heard? And Ione came from Igen - we have good links, far as I see it." He's been doing his research these last few days, it would seem.

« Yeah, it is. You ever seen Southern? » Tsiroth can invite Wendryth, right? Since they’re both liable to forget said invite in three days. He’s definitely on his better behaviour too, being outside of his territory — at least for now. Va’os lifts his mug in return and polishes off the last of his rum but doesn’t ask for an immediate refill. Probably best he take it slow! “Yeah. Looks like fate had a good laugh at us, huh?” There’s a laugh for H’rik’s saying of wisdom and he’ll point a lone finger at him. “Good one. I’ll have to tuck that away.” And look at that! The Igen Weyrleader has been doing his homework! While Va’os has been… slacking in that department. “Ahh, Amani you mean? Yeah, she is.” He never knew Ione, but now he’s aware of the secondary link! “I’d say it’s certainly a good start to continuing good relations.”

« A few times, » Wendryth's reply comes, after a pause as he delves into fuzzy memories. « There were…felines! » The image of the pelt that now decorates H'rik's weyr floats out of this mist, yellow with faint brown spots, accompanied by a distinct feeling of pride. If nothing else, Wendy remembers Southern for the felines! H'rik holds his empty mug in both hands, rolling it back and forth. He makes no move to refill, either, though in his case he's happy to let the first drink settle in his stomach, warm and welcome. He grins back at Va'os's laugh, shaking his head in exasperation at the whole situation. "Agreed. If I manage to piss off some Northern Weyrs, at least we can have a good friendship, huh?" His eyes are twinkling as he talks about these potential relationships with the other Northern Weyrs.

Tsiroth’s mind echoes with the pulse and dramatic thrum of drums, a song of action and thrill to match what the hunt must feel like. « Nasty creatures and a challenge to hunt! » So score one for Wendryth on that pelt! Va’os grins back to H’rik and it’s on the tail end of the other Weyrleader’s words that he’ll hold out his mug again for some more of that rum. “There’s that at least. You seem decent enough! Not nearly as rigid as some of the others — or so I’ve heard. And hey, if you piss ‘em off, I’m likely to do the same. Faranth only knows what’ll come! For the most part though I think we’ll be lucky and most of us’ll just stick to our Weyrs.” Yeah, right. Watch him just jinx the entire planet.

Wendryth's mist whirls and eddies as he manages to remember the thrill of the hunt that resulted in the prize for their weyr. « Very satisfying indeed to finally catch one, though! » H'rik, wordless but grinning, refills Va'os's mug. "I've…had enough of rigid leadership in my life," he explains, though no further explanation follows as to any deeper meaning behind that statement. He adds some more rum to his own mug, and takes a quick, but deep, drink. "Here's hoping. I'm new to this, but I get the impression Weyrs don't like other ones meddling in their business." He watches Va'os over his mug. "At the very least, I can promise I won't be doing that. And you ever need anything, just let me know. Unless it's an all-out declaration of war. I might have to think carefully about that." He grins, jocular.

« Careful one doesn’t shred your ass the next time you go hunting! » Tsiroth is all humour at this point, even if a note of truth rings there. « Yours or your rider’s. » Because let’s face it, who’d be the easier target? H’rik’s little hint to his past brings a sharper focus from Va’os but he won’t pry in the other man’s life this time. “You and me both,” he mutters instead and goes about nursing that second mug of rum. There’s a grimace about meddling and a slight tilt of his head. “Don’t think you’re entirely wrong there and I can promise the same. Won’t meddle in your business or territory! You seem decent enough and I’d like to keep some positive connections. If Southern needs aid, I’ll know where to look.” That is if he isn’t shot down for daring to admit they need it. Speaking of? There’s a weary sigh and he’ll drain the last of his rum, setting the empty mug back beside the bottle. “And I’m afraid we’ve lingered here far enough. Tsiroth and I should get back to Southern, before our prolonged absence is noted.”

Wendryth seems perplexed by that turn of phrase. « We will try to avoid it! » The bronze assures, though the sort of blithe assurance implies he doesn't quite get what Tsiroth means, only that it's a bad thing! "Sounds like an agreement," H'rik grins, amusing himself by using some Serious Weyrleader Words. "I won't be meddling in Southern, either, don't worry about that. Think I'll have enough on my hands with Igen to worry about another Weyr." He all but winks with that statement, and once Va'os has put his mug down, he'll offer his hand in a farewell clasp. "No rest for the wicked. I suppose I can look forward to no longer having the liberty to do as I please on rest days, huh?"

Tsiroth grumbles audibly when Va’os starts to mentally tug at the bronze. Time. To. Go! « Duty calls. » Of course, this is said with an implied eye roll and long suffering sigh. No rest for the wicked, indeed! Va’os will lean forwards to clasp H’rik’s hand, holding it firmly through a lone shake before releasing it. “Trust me, you’re gonna cherish the few moments you get to yourself. I’m definitely missing some of the freedom.” Adjustments, right? He’ll flick off a rather lazy salute and, grinning lopsidedly, he’ll start to step back towards his waiting bronze. “Good meeting you, H’rik.” Yeah, he at least got the name of the Igen Weyrleader before coming here! “Best of luck and hopefully if we cross paths again soon, it’s for reasonably GOOD reasons!”

H'rik's grasp is firm too, not overly strong - he's not here to assert dominance over the other man. The salute is returned, a little tap of two fingers to his temple. "And you, Va'os." See, research! "Clear skies to you and Southern!" He'll nurse his rum a bit more before he and Wendryth return to Igen, and their duty.

See? And this is why they’re gonna get along JUST fine — for now, anyways! No show of bravado or toughness. Just a few drinks and some shared ‘damn our luck’. What could possibly go wrong between these two?

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