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 Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 12:41 pm
The aroma of exquisite mint tea was never meant to be abused this way. People who inhaled such a scent were supposed to think of their finest hours; they were supposed to kick back and relax. To use its charm as a means of doom-saying was just wrong. Too bad none of them cared when they had better things to be ashamed of. Including J'aro, always the one who had readied the drinks; placed the cups so neatly on different ends of the small, round table.
The room was small and cold and no nicer than any other on the island. "Nice" and "prison" tended to be conflicting words, you see, so trying to combine them was a challenge no one had the energy for. Or the time, according to Brambel the mighty Whermaster; he who had thrown a mighty tantrum hearing his schedule was to be disrupted by the stupid, flamboyant whiterider. The old geezer never did take kindly to surprises. They were too much like secrets. Plenty enough of those already!
Whitemaster J'aro. The man in charge of the dragons; he decided weyr assignments, wing assignments, attended the hatchings and other duties traditionally belonging to a Weyrwoman or a Weyrleader. Secretly, he regretted his choice to Impress Rajath and wished for the downfall of all whites and blacks. Supposedly, he treated Roxyl, son of his whitesecond so well because he had an eye for R'xen.
Whermaster Brambel. One of those wherhandlers. You know the type. Mr. I-Failed-To-Impress-Any-Dragon-But-I'll-Stand-By-My-Claim-I-Really-Wanted-A-Wher-All-Along. That was more a matter of perception than secrecy, but they were not unarmed in dealing with him, seeing as they were two of four people to know about his b*****d son; the other two were the mother and the son himself. He could have claimed that boy if only he'd become a guard and not some measly greenrider.
Guardmaster Sesabal. Oh, where to start? He feared the public more than they'd ever know. His wife was treated like a queen, given everything the island had to offer (which was more than you might suspect when your husband ran the show and thus had free access to its concession stand). Everything but loyalty he gave to her; the late nights his two dear "friends" knew all about stole that away.
They were three very complicated men with three very complicated jobs and three very uncomplicated ways of dealing with each other.
When all else fails, resort to being catty.
"Guardmaster," J'aro greeted, and no sooner had he done that than elder Whermaster wobbled in. "Brambel," he said. "Sorry, did I pull you away from something important?"
"Some of us have important things to do, yes," he growled.
All three took a seat and sipped their tea.
A declaration of war.
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:22 pm
Guardmaster Sesabal was not pleased. He had been busy (yes, busy, doing important things) when J'aro's rider had finally tracked him down. As it were, the man was lucky he'd actually just been doing work when he was summoned, and not one of those other other things the black-haired man was known to do with his free time. (Sesabal would argue he never had free time and everything was allotted intentionally, but that might be even more troubling, when you thought about it.)
"Whitemaster. Whermaster." The man took his seat and sipped at his tea, scowling when he realized how hot it still was. "Faranth, J'aro. Are you trying to scorch my tongue off? I have things I could be doing right now, the very least you could do is make tea properly when we humor your ridiculous meeting requests." He was with Brambel on this one; all three men had very important jobs.
"Is this about your recent arrest, J'aro? For the last time, no one actually cares if you get hit in the face. Perhaps you should try being less obnoxious next time."
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:41 pm
"And no one here wants anything to do with your tongue," J'aro fired back. "We'll leave that to your many secret suitors." Something he had gotten used to he'd never thought he could was being hated. Born to perform in a land with no stages, he had channeled his energies through the persona of a class clown; he'd played the role well from childhood until after he'd become a rider.
So, there were many jokes from his lips between then and now, but they had been harmless. How he teased F'sey was how he teased everyone. Unless you were--
"Sesabal," J'aro began just after his catty little insult, "I'm not concerned with that incident. It was dealt with already. Thank you so much for your assistance, Brambel."
A grunt.
"The reason we're here," the whiterider pressed onward, "is to address the issue of the hatching ground."
These men hated him already. Why bother caring?
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:56 pm
Sesabal wrinkled his nose and sipped at his tea again, making sure to be careful the second time around. He glowered across the rim of his mug (real men drank tea from mugs, J'aro) before setting the drink down and sniffing indignantly. "Yes, well, I'm concerned with it, J'aro. Why bring a greenrider, of all things, to the island if you were only going to provoke him into fighting with you, anyways? We have plenty of other of those homosexuals for you to take your frustrations out on, there was no need to bring another." The black-haired man raised his eyebrows, reaching up to brush his hair behind his ear. "And for that matter, you really should stop throwing people in jail all willynilly. We need that space for actual criminals."
On his better days, Sesabal would consider giving anyone who punched J'aro, face or otherwise, a medal of honor for doing the community a service. Alas.
When the whiterider finally dragged up the true source of the meeting, the Guardmaster made a point to sigh as obnoxiously as he could. "What is it this time, J'aro?" he accused, as though this was just one complaint on the list of the redhead's many. As a matter of fact, Sesabal rather felt like it was, no matter how far it may or may not be from the truth. "I swear to Faranth, if you want more space..."
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 2:09 pm
Real men were not tethered to the requirement of drinking from a mug. Men who were duty-bound defend their sexual prowess at every turn were; men that had reason to need to; men that were hiding things. Men like his dear old friend Sesabal whom he had always had his suspicions about used mugs for tea. He acted like it was a disease and for that J'aro had always guessed his family of Telgar heritage.
Siiiiip.
J'aro daintily set his cup back on the table and tried to control the surge of emotion. No, Sesabal, you homophobic idiot, it wasn't lust. It was irritation that he couldn't afford to let control him sitting at the almighty table of almighty people. "The greenrider was a tag along for the bronzerider, and who are we to turn down any rider? What we need is more candidates, not less dragonriders."
"Why am I here for this?" Brambel demanded. He'd stopped listening to these two little girls somewhere around the talk of a greenrider -- he never wanted to talk about greenriders. Huff huff. "The happenings of your merry little dragon resort are of no concern to the Wherguard."
"It will be when Thread falls," J'aro pointed out, but Brambel was relentless.
"If it falls."
"Right," said the redhead. "If. Moving on, no, I'm not asking for more space. Not exactly. Rather, I'm concerned with the stability of the space we have. I think we should move the clutch."
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 2:30 pm
This was was Sesabal liked Brambal. He was the sensible one (insofar as wherhandlers could be sensible, but as long as the Whermaster was arguing with the Whitemaster, the Gaurdmaster was happy to call the oldest of the odd trio sensible). The man could also be stubborn (Sesabal liked to think that sort of thing came with being old, and he might to get enjoy such a luxury ifwhen he reached such an old, ripe age), and as long as he wasn't on the wrong end of that thick head, the black-haired man really quite enjoyed it.
Thread was just another thorn in Sesabal's side, and he quickly brushed it off. Just another reason for those riders to demand more respect, more food more...whatever it was J'aro was trying to get this time. What did J'aro want this time? Sesabal sipped his tea again. Menacingly.
"Move the clutch? Have you been standing out in the sun too long? Where do you suggest we put it, oh wise one?" Sesabal fired back, acting much more like a defensive teenager than the mock-Weyr's leader. (Even the Gaurdmaster didn't really see it as a Weyr.) Clearly, he was not in the mood for the readhead's usual antics. "I'm not sure if you've looked around lately, J'aro, but we're on an island. Resources, space included, are limited. The dragons are fine, I see absolutely no reason to move the clutch from where it sits. Besides, we only have the one Queen. No reason to get her fussy. I thought you dragonmen were supposed to know things like that." Sesabal scoffed. "Getting sloppy?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 2:46 pm
Brambel fancied himself a superior to these two ladies that clucked and squawked like peasants, never knowing when to stop. He knew when silence was appropriate, thank you very much; his voice was on mute when he turned to J'aro, awaiting the answer. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Isn't that how it went? To know your enemy was to be close to your enemy; Brambel knew allll about the dragonriders. Moving a clutch was unheard of. Not to mention unnecessary, he had no doubt.
"I'm clean cut as ever, Sessy." And, determined to prove something, J'aro ran his hand around his face. No beard. No mustache. No--
--sense, if you asked Brambel. He had a beard, a mustache and limited patience for this tomfoolery. His resources were quickly being depleted. "Enough!" he roared. "What ridiculous reason do you have for this?!"
J'aro dared to raise his voice. "My reasons should be obvious! There are tunnelsnakes everywhere around that area. So much so that even you--" A firm, meaningful, accusing glance given to Sesabal like a Christmas present. "--had to allow a very public acknowledgment of the problem. People are worried about this. Some of our candidates aren't young, true - older than other places, certainly - but some of them are. Most of them are young. Children, even! I've been to those lands and they're--"
"They're fine!" Brambel hissed. "Tell me you aren't going to yield to this manipulative attempt at pulling a fool's heartstrings, Sesabal!"
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 3:14 pm
Sesabal was about to scold J'aro for flirting again (honestly, could dragonriders just not help themselves?) when the Whermaster cut in and saved him the effort. Good old Brambel, he had such a superb since of timing. Smirking over his mug, the man took another contemplating sip while the eldest among them took his turn fielding J'aro's ridiculous requests. Sometimes it took two to wear the tireless redhead down and stop him from spewing total nonsense.
Still. Children? Sesbal's own children Stood on the hatching grounds (much to his complete and utter dismay, but the kids did what they wanted these days. No one ever kept them in line.
Ah, well. They had firelizards. Those lizards ate snakes, right? The children would be fine.
"Brambel's right. They're fine, J'aro. Stop worrying your silly little head and go back to tormenting your greenriders."
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 3:31 pm
The dark comedic value their meet up walked in with got thrown out the door. Once J'aro shot up, once he sprawled his hands out on the table - once he knocked over the tea, it was time to get serious. "Listen to me!" His voice was urgent, some mixture of a plea and a demand; two things that could go together, but shouldn't, not unlike the three of them. "This isn't something you should be dismissing! It isn't just the snakes!"
"He's ridiculous," Brambel wheezed, appalled by his outburst. The way J'aro's voice cracked made him wish he were deaf. No man's voice should be capable of it! "For Farnath's sake, Whitemaster - looking like a woman doesn't give you permission to act like one!"
J'aro ignored him, knowing his best bet was at the will of another. "Sesabal, I'm telling you, I went to those grounds and I looked around it. It is not safe for anyone to be there. I'm almost -- no, I am certain there's a nest. Maybe two. Maybe three for all we know! Crowding people atop them, let alone at a hatching -- would you really risk something like that?"
Deep down, he already knew the answer.
The public outcry if they dared mention moving dragon eggs would be far too great for Sesabal's tolerance of a less-than-perfect political image.
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 4:11 pm
Were the mood suddenly so dark, Sesabal would have snickered at Brambel's degrading comments. Such a way with words, that one. He should have been a politician, perhaps Sesabal should have been the Whermaster and his old friend the Gaurdmaster. He dismissed the idea with a snort almost immediately. Brambel. In charge of the islands? As if.
"Enough, J'aro. You are getting far too excited over nothing. Unless you can go find me the tunnesnake nest, I am not moving that clutch. The gold will get angry, the riders will get angry, the candidates will get angry. In fact, you'll be the only satisfied one! We aren't in the business of serving ourselves, whiterider." Well, hypothetically, anyways.
"Brambel and I have head enough, I think." He glanced over at the Whermaster, waiting for the man to weigh in if he felt so inclined before continuing. "Those grounds have been fine for Turns, J'aro. Nothing has changed." Sesabal sipped at his tea. "Get the knot out of your panties and go back to harassing the dragonriders."
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 4:32 pm
J'aro could feel himself shaking under the strain of his anger. His teeth weren't in the best of shape as it was; grinding them together was just asking for trouble. Coming here was just asking for trouble. Impressing a white had been asking for trouble. J'aro just wanted to do the right thing, be the good man he had been raised to be. He didn't want this strife or this... Shards. Shards.
"I'm going to tell you this once, and I want you to listen," he snarled, jaw tight. "If anything happens--"
"You'll what? Maybe you should sit down and get control of yourself," Brambel suggested. He was ignored.
"If anything happens to any of those candidates -- to anyone -- that isn't related to the hatchlings... anything that could have been avoided... I will expose everything you have ever done. I will dethrone you, Sesabal, and I'll do it in a way that will make the Guardmaster before you seem as if he'd died peacefully in his sleep."
Outside, Rajath was screeching bloody murder and about to rip the post she'd been chained to out of the ground.
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 4:46 pm
"Are you threatening me, J'aro? I'd watch your step, if I were you, or your dear friend R'xen might find himself thrust onwards and upwards in rank. I have had enough of your temper tantrums and hideous displays of-" gay "-insubordination."
He stood, dusting off his pants and straightening his shirt before glancing at the whiterider again. "I think we're done here, Whitemaster. Whermaster, it was good seeing you." Sesabal nodded to Brambel and began to head out.
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 4:53 pm
Brambel said nothing, merely watched. He knew what was coming.
It didn't surprise him when J'aro - King of Never Letting Things Go - slammed his hands on the table and shouted after the Guardmaster: "You're going to be a murderer, Sesabal! Can you really live with that?!"
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 5:25 pm
Sesabal didn't so much as turn his head when the Whitemaster continued to behave like a child. On his way out, he stopped by one of the wher handlers and issued an order. The burly woman departed quickly, relaying the Gaurdmaster's order quickly. Effeciently. He liked the wher guard (this week).
By the time J'aro returned to his weyr, he'd have some enforcers waiting for him...
Rebellious fool.
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