Who

Cha'el, Lisette

What

Lisette checks in with Cha'el post her nighttime excursion with El'ai.

When

It is midmorning of the 14 day of the third month of the fourth turn of the 12th pass

Where

Council Room, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 03 Mar 2015 05:00

 

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"These painted wildlings, they were heading toward the fenced pastures?"


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Council Room

Spacious, this room is cut from the same scale as the living caverns: vast and given to inspiring awe for those who enter. The floor is tiled in a shining cross-hatch of dark and light, an ironic chessboard setting for the looming and overlarge council table. Weathered it is, long and rectangular, with a matching sideboard twice again as long as it is. This is a room for meetings, for work, for decisions: such is evident by the hearth in the corner, and the always-fresh pot of klah.


It's the next day, not the day after the massacre at the Igen pens but the day after Lisette was supposed to be out there casually investigating. She stops by the council room sometime during midmorning, a quick knock at the door a polite warning before she steps inside. The candidate's not possessing of the same bravado that she's normally full of, this time it's a bit subuded. "Weyrleader. So about that thing you wanted me to do." There's obviously a fair amount more as she doesn't jump straight into it, instead giving him a moment to wrap up whatever affairs are going on that she's likely interrupted.

At the point of wrapping up a meeting with one of his wingleaders, both men's heads jerk up at the knock, the Siberian wingleader turning first an appreciative look over the dark-haired candidate and then and enquiring heft of brow to the Weyrleader. "Give him another seven and then lets see how he's doing." Cha'el states to the other rider and then turns the full heft of his attention to Lisette once the man has departed with a quick backward glance to her derrire. Bad form, man. Bad form. Enough so that Cha'el sharpens a tight look his way, or maybe that's for the lack of salute coming from the candidate. Either way, he drops his stylus to the table and ushers her inward with a gesture of hand. "You have something to report?"

"In your dreams." Lisette mutters when the man passes her, not so subdued that she's able to resist the one off before she steps the rest of the way into the room and closes the door behind her. "Yes." She pulls one of the chairs outwards and slips onto it, crossing her legs under the table. "I spoke with some of the other candidates, like you wanted me to. And I got a name, Tstial. He was supposed to be meeting with his wildling girlfriend at night." Her fingers work at a rough patch on the table, tracing the spot absently until her eyes lift up to meet Cha'el's. "I asked El'ai-" She stops to correct herself, sucking her breath in. "Wingsecond El'ai. To come with me, so we went out there with his bronze."

Thankfully, Cha'el doesn't hear that mutter though there is lift of brow when the candidate closes the door behind her and then seats herself without being invited to do so. He on the other hand, remains standing, looming over Lisette, focus narrowed intently. "Wilding girlfriend." In a flat tone this is repeated. "This Tstial. He a candidate?" The fact that she'd thought to take along a rider with her, likely earns her points for forethought.

"Right, wildling girlfriend." Lisette confirms, continuing to run her finger along the table. "He is. I don't know him that well, he's new to Southern." Which doesn't exactly explain much, technically they're all new to the weyr. A fact she apparently catches onto. "He was searched in. I'm just not sure from where." Shaking her head, she lifts her hand to catch it under her chin. "We went up there at nightfall and skirted the edges, kept out of view. When we were on the one side of this big rock, boulder thing, we heard someone. It sounded like a young man and he was talking to a woman. But we couldn't hear her, she was very quiet. At least I couldn't make out what she was saying. He called her Rieka."

His mouth pressed about a frown its clear to see that the Weyrleader is not happy about this infraction of basic candidate rules with regards to fraternising with the opposite sex. "I see." Whatever lecture Cha'el might have been winding up to deliver with regards to proper address and decorum fades as Lisette continues with her recounting. "So. His name is Tstial." That gleam in those blue eyes does not bode well for the lad. "And his girlfriend's name is Rieka, eh?" Thus far, this is what he's taking away from what he's been told so far.

"Yes, Tstial." She bites down on her lip and then shakes her head, frustration creeping into her expression. "But, Weyrleader we didn't even see them. So I can't tell you for certain that it was him. But this Rieka didn't sound like she was exactly nice. He was telling her that they shouldn't use fire." And now Lisette simply looks helpless and unhappy with this entire thing, a wonder what a good night's sleep can do to a person's perspective. "Then they heard us move. And he was telling her to put something away and they sounded upset that anyone else might be around. So I tossed a rock and it distracted them and we got out of there as fast as we could."

Having taken a step backward, likely to begin pacing, Cha'el draws in again and fits Lisette with a long, long look, every nuance about the candidate's expression and body language taken in. "Did they sound wildling?" Fair enough question given the halting speech patterns of some of the jungle dwellers. "Or say what this Rieka wanted to use the fire for?"

"He didn't. But again, I couldn't really hear her except for mutters." Lisette stands up to that long look for awhile, but with all things considered it's not likely surprising that she gets her green gaze back down to that table. "Before we made it to Sekhaenkath, we saw something else." Cha'el is going to really need to put rum in his klah after this next part. "There was a line of wildlings with torches coming through the area. Painted faces and everything. They didn't even notice us." At his question she just regretfully shakes her head. "No, but it didn't sound like they wanted to have a barbecue. He cursed when he realized someone was nearby."

"Dammit!" Frustration growls out but at least the Weyrleader holds onto his language for the time being. Pushing away again, the brownrider walks a blind line toward the sideboard that holds a variety of beautiful cut glass decanters clustered in the middle of its highly polished surface, a hand raking through his hair from front to back. With a jerk, he swings about and sets Lisette with a stare. One that crumbles beneath the slow gather of deep unease when she tells of the line of wildlings, the mention of painted faces, shifting uneasily beneath his skin like eels of foreboding. "These painted wildlings, they were heading toward the fenced pastures?"

"We were on the edge of the jungle and the savannah when we heard the couple talking, away from the pens. The wildlings were going towards them. They saw them too, but it didn't seem safe to stick around." Lisette rubs her hand along the underside of her chin, equally as uneasy as Cha'el is right now. One foot rubs against the other under the table and she falls silent, regarding a spot ahead of her with some deep concentration. "I'm sorry that I didn't do better." The admission comes very quietly. So quietly in fact that if there was other noise in the room it could easily be missed.

A sharp nod of head greets further explanation but there is yet one more question. "And this couple, they didn't seem worried about the wildings? Do you think they saw them?" Clink, goes the crystal stopper of a decanter when its pulled free, followed by the splash of umber liquid hitting a squat glass just moments before Lisette's apology. The Weyrleader initially says nothing but instead lifts his glass to his lips and allows the sampling sip of that drink to burn its way down his throat. And then he's closing the distance and rejoining the candidate. Finally, he scrapes out his chair at the end of the table and folds down into, upper torso leaned forward toward the young woman gaze fixed intently on her. "You've done exactly what I asked of you. Not only that, you thought to take a rider along with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. That shows forethought." Approval is clear and Cha'el leans back, lifting his glass once again to his lips.

"Surprised." Lisette explains ruefully, her focus once more drifted down to the table. It's certainly easier to stare there than it is to have to face all of Cha'el's intense looks and hair wringing. The scrape of his chair against the council room's floor is the warning she gets that he's back at the table. "I wish that we'd been able to stay longer." The candidate takes a steadying breath before she lifts her chin in order to actually look at the Weyrleader. "He's a good rider, maybe he'll have better details for you. That and he has a second pair of eyes attached to his brain."

"No. Its good that you didn't. I'd rather not risk a candidate." Does that mean he's willing to risk a rider? Possibly. Then again, riders do have these enormous lifemates with very sharp teeth and more flame than a wildling posse on bonfire night. Again there's a heft of brow but this time there's faint amusement peeking through the uneasy set of features. "Mmm. I'll have Sikorth see if Sekhaenkath can share what he saw from his perspective. Thank you." Sincere. Setting his glass down, Cha'el's features smooth though there is warning that sifts through his next. "Don't go back up there again, aye? And if you see Tstial so much as move a muscle after curfew, you go yank on K'ane's chain and throw the little bastard under the wagon."

Lisette nods once to his words, inching back into her seat until the chair begins to slide away from the table. "I won't be going up there again, don't worry about that." As for yanking on K'ane's chain, she sports the first sign of a smile during this entire encounter. "Of course, sir. Would you mind if I go now? I have a maths lesson to get to and I was late last time." Naturally she could be forgiven if she said she was with the Weyrleader, but maybe the girl just wants to be punctual or has developed a true love for algebra.

When Lisette smiles, so does Cha'el though its strained around the edges. Draining his glass there may be a refill on shortly on the way he stands. "I wouldn't want to keep you from maths lessons. Knowing the ratio of firestone to a dragon's flame and how it varies across the colors is important." How's them formulas? Or maybe he's just pulling her leg for there is a bit of a glint to those sea-blue eyes. Turning, back toward the sideboard, the Weyrleader slips into deep thought. His brawny frame etched with tension.

"Yeah, I'm dying to learn more about it." That doesn't sound genuine. Lisette stands, pushing the chair back underneath the table. She wastes little time making it to the door, eager to exit the council room and probably the Weyrleader's presence as well. That desire to flee halts just for a moment as she hangs on the threshold, "I have a bad feeling." Then she slips out into the hallway.

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