Who

K'vvan, Cha'el, Erissa

What

The epic gets complicated as Cha'el attempts to mediate.

When

It is late night of the seventh day of the third month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Sanctum Santorum (Cha'el's weyr), Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

Kvvan2.jpg Chael4.png erissa17.jpg
nadeeth_default.jpg Sikorth.jpg ice1.jpg




Characters


Weyr.jpg

Room

Sanctum Santorum

Because I'm lazy. This is Cha'el's weyr. Go check it out:
http://harpers-tale.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/character:cha-el/Weyr.jpg/medium.jpg

On the ledge, you see a brown, blue and green dragon.

On the perch is Butterball.

Obvious exits:
Ledge


Log

Nadeeth’s form has curled back against the wall of the ledge as the explosion between the two humans flairs up. Her distress is kept in tight check. The moment the pair leave though, she’s sending her thoughts out to the pair. «We are sorry. If they wish we will leave…» Sadness all over.

K’vvan totally can hear everything from the ledge. He doesn’t miss Erissa’s opinion of him, nor Cha’el’s mention of ‘defense mechanisms.’ His own snapish temper has surged up, but he bites his lip and continues to clean up the mess of the wine. It takes more cloths than it ought to, more do to the fact that the greenrider’s hands are shaking than the actual quantity of wine. When Erissa and Cha’el finally renter they’ll find K’vvan kneeling on the floor, purposefully not looking in their direction as he gathers the last of those wine soaked cloths into a pile to be delivered where such dirty clothing should go. Upon the table, one almost full glass sits, while the other sits lonely and untouched.


Sikorth appears to be unmoved by the little melodrama playing out on the ledge. Perhaps he’s seen it all before or he simply has no interest in his rider’s relationships. « Humans. They should all just twine tails and be done with it. » He grumbles accidentally broadcasting that thought to both Nadeeth and Danorath. Oops. Swinging his great head in the shrinking green’s direction, the brown utters a rumbling croon of apology. « No need to leave, little one. You have done nothing wrong. » The same gets sent to Danorath even although the mottled brown does try to subtly put himself between the oceanic blue and the dainty green.

Its probably safe to say that Cha’el hasn’t lent a moment’s thought to the idea that K’vvan has heard everything that passed between himself and Erissa. Trailing in just a step behind the bluerider he breaks away from her and moves to where K’vvan is. Crouching down on the floor next to him, there’s a light touch of hand, surreptitious enough so as to suggest he’s merely reaching for the sodden cloths. “Thanks for taking care of this.” A warm smile appears and then the brownrider reaches out sideways and snags a nearby bucket to dump the rags into. “Erissa’s going to join us for a drink,” he states and then lowers his voice the next a low burr of words meant for the greenrider’s ears only. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

With that he stands and flashes Erissa a smile. “K’vvan’s going to pour you a drink while I go and change.”


Erissa walks into the weyr with a straight-backed, chin-up confidence in her posture that is totally forced. Beneath it all she’s a jumbled mess with her stomach in knots and her emotions threatening to boil over at any second. Dark blue hues snap to K’vvan immediately and narrow on his crouched form, pressed lips forcing a deeper intake of breath through her nose. The fact that he doesn’t look their way helps - it gives her a few seconds to school her expression into something, if not the ‘nice’ that Cha’el wanted, at least a blank slate. She stops at the edge of what’s acceptable and crosses her arms, then drops them, lets them hang at her side a moment, and finally stuffs them into her back pockets. Damn long limbs! And damn K’vvan for making her feel like a gangly teenager again! (Because, yes, everything negative about this evening is going to be his fault, of course.)

As Cha’el kneels down by the greenrider and pours on the charm Erissa has to dig extra deep to keep her newly acquired façade in place and clamps her teeth tight to keep from making a comment. Not trusting herself to even attempt speech she nods when Cha’el addresses her and boldly moves forward to one of the chairs, a distinct sway to slender hips, and neatly folds herself into it.

See? Perfectly nice.


“Don’t f*king patronize me, “ The vitriol rolls off of K’vvan’s lips but in the quietest of mutters. Cha’el is already standing before K’vvan can react further to the touch or whispered statement. His eyes follow Cha’el for just a moment, then turn themselves to fix on Erissa. While she might be maintaining a cool façade K’vvan has no such interest. His glower for his second least favorite female on the planet is unrestrained. He stands wary of the blond haired demon, and shifts away, keeping the table firmly between them.

Physically Nadeeth droops out on the ledge as K’vvan’s thought wrinkles though her ribbons. Jeweled gaze moves from the blue to the brown. «Please can we stay? Just to finish my story?» She shows bits of the weaving, leaving K’vvan to roll his eyes skyward and away from Erissa. Nadeeth perks up as K’vvan silently capitulates and shuffles on the suddenly less-open ledge to nudge at the soldier-like blue. «Would you listen?»


Unexpected as it was, Cha’el caught that muttered snap from K’vvan and for the very briefest moment sea-blue eyes had shadowed in pained reaction. Unsure of what he may have done to deserve it, guards come down and features arrange about a bland line. Unfortunately, given that he very rarely entertains, there aren’t such niceties as a screen or drape between sleeping and living area. But he’ll leave the door of the built-in cupboard open and step in behind it. Still stinging from the greenrider’s comment and his altercation with Erissa beforehand, his mind strains at how horribly upside down the evening has become while he changes swiftly from drink stained trousers to a pair of drawstring sweatpants.

Pulling a game face on, Cha’el emerges once again and casts an assessing glance between Erissa and K’vvan. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. He sees that now, but it’s too late. The die has been cast. Cue the easygoing smile he seems to wear so easily that doesn’t quite cast aside the wary shade of blue eyes.

“So, how long have you two known each other for?” Conversation starter anyone?

Out on the ledge, the manner in which Nadeeth droops pulls a flicker of concern through the bulky brown who carefully manages to reposition himself so that if she should so choose, the dainty green will find a space left for her between blue and brown hides. « You will share the rest of your tale with us? » Sikorth enquires, his tail grazing lightly along her haunches.


Erissa has silent stewing down to an art. Studiously keeping her gaze anywhere but on K’vvan she follows Cha’el’s movements until he disappears behind the wardrobe. The flames in the hearth are a convenient source of attention after that, though she’s so keenly aware of the nearby greenrider that it seems his breathing smothers the soft crackling of wood. Ignoring the wine that was pushed her way she crosses one knee over the other, booted foot tapping the air with a swift rhythm and hands folded neatly in her lap.

Finally Cha’el returns and a long-suffering glance is slid his way for that opener.

“Too long,” blurts out before she can stop it. Internal filters that are normally weak anyway are strained nearly to non-existence.

On the ledge, Danorath keeps the connection tight with his bonded but the presence of the other two dragons pulls a good slice of his external attention. Especially Nadeeth. When the lovely green nudges up against his side he turns his neck around to bring her better into view and rumbles softly, sending an apologetic brush of breeze-born sea spray to her and peripherally the big brown as well. Duty calls as long as his rider is in her current state of mind. «I would listen.» is shared with the regretful caveat that his attention is split.


“Since she,.” K’vvan’s words snap out almost at the same time as Erissa’s. When he realizes that the woman has also spoken he closes his lips on the rest of his comment. K’vvan’s temper has cooled significantly in the turns since the oldtimers had come forward. Smothered in duty and responsibility his days of anger causing him to lash out or freeze up have almost disappeared. But like M’yck (hum. Maybe there is a trend here with blueriders…), Erissa seems to be one of his triggers that sends the volatile greenrider right to the edge of that razor thin line. His free hand has curled into a ball, while the other attempts to crush the glass he had just fetched from a shelf. Looking down and purposefully not at the woman his gaze catches upon his hand holding the cup. Faint scars upon each knuckle seem to serve as a reminder and he takes a deep breath, slowly pulling himself back from that edge of anger.

Rather than attempt to reply to Cha’el’s comment K’vvan will pick up the wine in movements that bespeak his attempt to keep his lightning rod anger in check and pour two more cups of the wine. One is pushed in Cha’el’s direction, though K’vvan does not look at the brownrider either.

Nadeeth settles between the two males, curling up so that her tail remains curved against Sikorth’s side, but she can easily reach over to nudge Danorath back gently. Wingtips brush against both dragons. A quiet ribbon, shared just with Danoarth, sneaks out. «I will take mine, if yours is too upset. Perhaps we should not have come.»


Cha’el doesn’t immediately take up a chair but remains standing, his attention flicking from bluerider to green in purse lipped silence. Taking up the glass K’vvan shoves at him, a small smile gone unseen when the pissy man refuses to look at him he lifts it to his lips and lets the uncomfortable silence spool out further. The crackle of flames in the hearth, the occasional shift of dragon out on the ledge and the faint squeak of leather from Erissa’s air tapping boot eventually grow until almost deafened by the stiff silence, the Weyrsecond sets his glass down and folds his arms across his broad chest.

“Really? That’s it? ‘Too long’ and, ‘She’s not..’? I’ve had better conversations with a rock.” The brownrider dryly states, his own temper tweaked by the refusal of the other two to even try to hold a conversation. “Maybe I should just drop the two of you in the Pit and let you duke it out. Seriously. What the fuck!?” Attention skips to Erissa. “So what? He accidentally drowned your puppy or something?” Because there has to have been a trigger to the animosity being exhibited from both parties, right? “And you,” blue eyes drift to K’vvan, “You…wrestled her for a ribbon?” There’s no mockery in his tone but rather a slightly incredulous note that the prickly greenrider would have gotten so up close and personal with someone else.

On the ledge beyond, Sikorth falls to patient silence waiting for Nadeeth to pick up her tale, occasionally flicking a glance to the view below and then back to his current ledge-mates. He probably seems thoroughly disinterested by the little drama of three going on inside but just because he isn’t reacting physically, doesn’t mean to say that he’s not keeping an eye on things.


Erissa is perfectly happy not to speak, thank you very much. The tension claws at her spine, keeping her sitting perfectly straight. Thus when Cha’el has a sudden outburst her chin jerks back slightly and pale lashes flutter. Is he actually accusing HER? Full lips part to protest but then press tight when he continues. Arms lift and cross tightly over her chest. As soon as he stops speaking she swings one hand in gesture toward the greenrider.

“I told you. He’s rude and arrogant.”

On the ledge Danorath maintains his watch and patiently awaits Nadeeth’s story as well, his deep blue hide emitting warmth to the dainty green nestled between blue and brown.


“I didn't drown anything!” K'vvan protests Cha'el's accusation, his eyes finally swinging away from what must have been a very interesting knot to land on the weyrsecond. “She f*king shows up everywhere she's not wanted.” Hyperbole is the whiner's favorite word. As for his actually statement too the greenrider… K'vvan's tone takes on a more defensive tone. “I promised Nadeeth the ribbon. She'd already bought it. It was, you know what? F*ck it. Whatever.” K'vvan shoots Erissa a look full of loathing. That glass of wine before him is picked up and brought to his lips. “She's a sharding menace to everyone around her.”

The sound of K'vvan's swearing inside doesn't help Nadeeth's confidence levels at all. Taking more time then typical to gather the threads of her story she begins to weave. A small backscene plays, the small furred creature dancing with ghostly figures on the edge of a circle of warm fire upon the soft springy grass of summer, while beyond the light winter holds a firm grip on the world. The shutter picks up speed as Nadeeth falls back into the familiar storytelling, almost as if Kehemath sat whispering it into her ear right then. The furred creature inches his way closer and closer to the fire, the ghostly apparitions too busy with their dance to notice him. Opening a mouth full of sharp teeth the creature grasps a half burnt stick in his teeth. A powerful bound with the wood stuck in his mouth sends the creature soaring over the firebeings and out into the dreary world.


Cha’el is left staring incredulously between the pair of them as they continue to berate each other. Still not having sat down yet, brows slam down into a heavy frown and then he throws his hands up in exasperation before they plant to lean hips. “Faranth’s fucking arse!! You two are like a pair of kids on a harper’s playground. ‘He started first. No she did. No he did. No she did’.” A pair of squabbling children mimicked. “How can each of you individually be such intelligent, engaging people to spend time with and yet when put together you become an enormous pair of wherries arses!?” With annoyance on high wick, the brownrider takes up his wine and turning his back on the sniping pair, stalks out to the ledge for a breath of fresh air not fouled by snarking vitriol.

Eyeing his rider when he stalks to the ledge side of the tunnel and leans a shoulder up against the rock, Sikorth utters a grunt of what could be sardonic amusement. « You chose them. You deal with it. » A great help he is. Ignoring Cha’el, the brown turns back to the story being woven and gives a grunt of astonishment. « The creature has courage! »


(CONTINUED…..)

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