Zelinci and gold Valath (halfblood_zel) wrote in settlers,
Zelinci and gold Valath
halfblood_zel
settlers

Logfile: You're NOT leaving?

Time: A few days after L'ott's announcement.
Players: Zakias, Zelinci
Summary: Zakias assumes Zelinci's leaving, and she's not. He then proceeds to irritate one of the few friends he has left.

Records Room
A decently-sized room, the records room has a curved outer wall in which two large windows are placed. The floor is carpeted in rugs that muffle footsteps. Tall shelves are built in, slanting in from the outer wall except where the windows interrupt; there, shorter, perpendicular shelves stand. Lining the inner wall are a series of simple desks, each with an inkwell built in.

There's a rush of noise as Zelinci enters from the dining hall, shutting the door quietly behind her and scanning the room. She doesn't seem to find what she's looking for, so instead she settles at the table with a mug in hand, looking fairly ... blank. She pulls a letter from her pocket, staring at the folded paper as she lays it on the table with a concentrated gaze.

After several moments, Zakias enters unaware of the previous rush. He has two fresh candles in one hand, and another jar of ink in the other. He grunts an inaudible greeting on spotting Zelinci and then says, "What are you doing in here?"

Zelinci takes the letter and hides it in her lap where the table blocks it from view as Zakias enters, looking a little surprised at the harper's question. "Thinking," she answers simply, as if expecting him to know exactly what about. "Writing?" she asks a little obviously.

Zakias raises an eyebrow, then turns to put the candles up in their sconces, by his favorite desk. "If you're writing," he says calmly, "where is your ink and quill?" The jar of ink gets put down with a satisfying clunk of glass against wood.

Giving him a 'oh, please' look, Zelinci shakes her head. "No, you, I meant." Instead of waiting for an answer that she already knows, she asks another question. "Do you think it's going to be depressing here after they leave?"

Zakias laughs a little at his own silliness and then says, "Oh. I imagine it will be. That's why I'm -- " and then he catches his breath. "Zelinci, I wanted to ask..." And hm. He shuffles his shoe against the rug on the floor and leans forward against the chair. He takes a deep breath and then slowly says: "I wanted to ask if you would take me back to Harper Hall before you go."

Zelinci narrows her eyes a little at Zakias, but relaxes. "Why? Then it would be even lonelier here for me if you're not around." She sighs a little, perhaps out of frustration. "Elayne's going, Iopeian's going. Queriath isn't even a turn old yet, I'm obligated to stay." It's as if saying it makes it a sudden realization, and she slumps in her chair, as if the weight of the world sits on her shoulders.

Zakias blinks and says, "You're /not/ leaving?" Pause. He rubs his throat and then sits down, and says, "Well. I suppose that makes sense." He slumps his chin into the palm of his hand.

Making a snorting sound, "Do you really think I want to ride headlong into Thread like that? And leave behing a /seventeen/ turn old Weyrwoman?" Zelinci may be naive at times, but surely Zak would've taken that into consideration. "Moreso, I'm surprised you're not jumping on the boat yourself, sir. Iopeian's going." As if that means he should, too.

Zakias lifts his head again, a little anger simmering behind his words, "To watch her with another man, until one day she doesn't come home at all?" He snaps his fingers. "She made her choice a /long/ time ago now and I'm under no obligation." And then he looks off at the book shelves.

Zelinci seems a little surprised at the vehement response, eyes widening slightly. "As far as I know, D'ac's not going. At least, I haven't heard anything about him. I know L'ott, B'net, Serini, and Samarne are going. Well, I'm sure you know that Samarne's going.. and I know a lot of residents are planning on it, too. Most of the ones who don't have a lot of family, though."

"Alshain's thinking about it, and I'm /sure/ Dachadre is going because I'm sure Iopeian is going." Zakias says, calming down a bit. He rubs one side of his nose with his finger and then says, "But I appreciate the thought. Shame, I was going to ask you to keep an eye out for Samarne."

Expression softening, Zelinci frowns slightly. "I'm sorry that I can't, but I'm sure Alshain will if he goes." She considers Zak for a brief moment, "If you really want to go home, I'll take you."

Zakias takes a long time to think about it. Finally, he says, "I think I do. I'm not sure I want to stay here, after. Even if you /are/ here."

Zelinci nods slowly after a minute, swallowing as if she's a little upset at his decision. Pursing her lips, "Then I'll take you whenever you're ready." There's a long pause before she says something else, tone a little strained. "It won't be the same here without you." Then again, it won't be the same without everyone else, either. And it looks like she's going to have to do the majority of this on her own.

Zakias frowns a little at her expression, and says, "I'm not abandoning you. You'll be welcome at Harper Hall any time. You've never been there before, really. I can show you the library, and all the best places to buy food." And then he says, "This is assuming they even let me back in, you know."

"They will, I'm sure of it." Zelinci says consolingly, but you can bet she's probably secretly hoping that they don't, just to keep the cantankerous man within easy reach. "And I do expect you to write and visit on occasion!" She stands, trying to end the conversation before she winds up crying like the sap she is, missing a friend before he even leaves.

Zakias makes a show of being disgusted that Zelinci's about to start crying any moment now, and then says, "Just to watch you muddle up being Weyrwoman. Twenty-three turns isn't much better than seventeen."

The season is late autumn; it is early evening and it is not sunny. Today's cool air stings the skin of those used to heat, but feels almost warm if one is used to cold. The sky is completely overcast by thick clouds. A light breeze scuffs through the air.

Not exactly the most sensitive thing that Zakias has ever offered; Zelinci frowns at him and just shakes her head, stuffing the aforementioned letter in her pants pocket. She adjusts the sleeves of her sweater, giving Zak one last look before exiting into the drone of the dining hall.
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