Let's You and Me Have a Chat (K'rad)

[Cait]

Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)

77.02.18
Holding Cell
Wee Hours of the Morning


It had been a couple days since the deaths of the guard and the old woman. Dalonia had been working almost non-stop since before the killings had happened. Tellard had, of course, offered to take over monitoring watch rotations while Dalonia worked on the murders but she was reluctant to give the man even an tiny bit of power. She didn't need him trying to change things around and confusing the guards and the handlers as to who was really in charge. She'd never acknowledge it of course, but she also did want to relinquish one of the first things that was truly and wholly hers. The first rank that she'd gained on her own merit and with no ulterior motives given to her by Barrek or her brothers. She didn't want to share.

In the end she hadn't had much of a choice but to let the man walk her rounds for her with express orders that he was not to deviate, as she was buried in getting witness accounts and rearranging the guard schedule to account for having a prisoner and being on heightened alert after the egg had been stolen. Had the murders been a diversion for the stealing of the egg or had the egg been a diversion for the murders? Dalonia wasn't a strong enough believer in coincidence to think that they were completely unrelated.

The headache had started shortly after the girl had come to visit K'rad, or as she liked to call him; worm. It had been the girl who had jumped in to help when that girl Garna had lost her mind during a firelizard hatching of all things and tried to attack T'kar. Someone needed to keep a better eye on that girl as she seemed to be prone to making very poor life choices, or at the very least made very poor choices in friends. But that was neither here nor there and it was time to go and question the worm. She'd managed a short nap before hand and so wasn't nearly so tired, but it had done nothing for her mood. If he started spouting lies and nonsense, she wasn't sure she wouldn't get a little rough. She already knew that he'd killed the woman and truly there had been no direct witnesses. The Abyss rider had come upon the scene immediately after the death of the old woman and gone quite mad. K'rad had sustained an injury from a knife confirmed to have belonged to the old woman; Irai she thought it was.

Twisting her head from side to side until her neck popped, Dalonia stretched and heaved a sigh. Maybe after all of this she could take a nice, long nap. It wasn't likely but she could hope. Briefly she remembered the last truly good, undisturbed sleep she'd gotten. She was still a bit baffled at how she'd managed it when she'd been in someone else's bed with that someone up and about. Granted, it had been T'kar who had saved her life on at least two occasions now, but typically she was not able to sleep with another person in the room. It had taken her months to get used to sleeping in the same room as Dalosk. The same for her firelizards.

Shaking her head, she went to strap on her sword belt and then thought better of it. She had a boot knife and one at her wrist and with a guard outside and Dalosk in the corner it would have to be enough. Patting her thigh, she stalked out of the room and the Crimson hauled himself up and stalked after her, a massive blood red shadow littered with various scars, most acquired since coming to the Weyr. Before long they were in front of the den that had been converted into a holding cell and Dalonia slipped inside, Dalosk following her and letting out a low, rattling growl as he moved to a shadowed corner at a flick of Dalonia's hand.

"Alright, worm. You awake?" She moved over to the glow basket and flicked open the shield so that the soft light flooded the chamber.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

According to Belegurth, almost two full days since Cyan had come to visit. They had not seen or heard from her since, which was what they’d expected. It would be wrong to say hoped, because though Kel’s head knew enough to realize that Cayn was safest if she stayed away, his heart missed his friend. He hated this hole that he’d been stuck in for more than two days. Indeed, according to Belegurth, who though confined to his weyr could at least see the sky and thereby judge the passing of time, Kel had been chained to this wall for a little over three days, if one counted the time that he’d been unconscious after having his wounds stabilized. Not healed. Full healing was not, apparently, wasted on murderers. Not that it would have been possible to heal those wounds in a single session anyway.

He’d been awake when the footsteps came within earshot. He couldn’t really sleep any more, which was no surprise, considering that he was chained to a wall by means of a wher collar around his waist, his feet were hobbled with a bare foot and a half between them, and his hands were secured behind his back. Not to mention the way his wounds were hurting, both those delivered during the fight, and the bruises dealt out afterward.

Kel looked up in response to the question, eyes blinking at the sudden increase of light in the chamber. He would have much preferred not to acknowledge the words, but as the visible black eye testified, he’d learned not to push his captors too far. Failing to at least acknowledge words directed at him tended to result in quick trips to lots of bruises. He didn’t say anything though, just let his eyes adjust to the light, though he had to squint against it to make out the features of the woman who had entered and spoken. The Sr. Wherhandler. Just what he needed… not.

[Cait]

Dalonia’s eyes narrowed as she got a good look at the dragonrider’s face. Black eye. She resisted the urge stalk right back out of the room and have words with the guards instead. It wasn’t that she was upset that the worm had gotten hurt but that it had been done without her ordering it. Still, now was not the time to show anger over something as trivial as a black eye. She’d have words with the guards later. If she was going to get information out of this one, she didn’t need the other guards trying to deliver a bit of their own brand of justice.

Dalosk hunched in the corner, a low growl rattling in his chest and his tail twitching, but otherwise he was still. “I never liked ya, worm. Not since th’ training thing. Knew ye were trouble. So tell me why I shouldn’t just take tha’ queenrider at her word and mark ya guilty? Two people are dead, worm. They’re sayin’ ya did it.” But she knew better. The same knife that had nearly taken the worm’s life had taken the guard’s life. There was no way around that bit of information. None of the wounds on the guard had come from any of the knives K’rad had been carrying. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She didn’t trust him, had no reason to trust him. But if he would lie about this, he would lie about other things. There was something he was hiding, a shifty nature that she recognized all too well.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

Kel ignored the wher. It was a small thing, but he refused to cower, refused to beg or plead. Some part of him was laughing at all of this, laughing that he still clung to that pride, yet had destroyed any possible good opinion anyone else might have cherished about him by lying not to claim innocence, but to claim additional blood on his hands. He didn’t want to respond to the woman’s words, but he didn’t want her thinking that meant he was changing his story. He couldn’t afford to change his story.

“They were threats to Lady Artemis,” he insisted. His voice was almost calm. He had his story, his part to play, and he had to stick to it. It was a shame about Belegurth though, a shame that the dragon would die too, but… one couldn’t have everything, and more people, riders and not, would die for his speaking than for his silence.

[Cait]

The fact that the man was claiming that one of the guards, who she had a hand in training and posting about the weyr was a threat to one of the queenriders; well, it was a bit hard to believe, especially from a man who had killed an old woman. Granted the old woman had been armed and she would take that into consideration, but she knew something that K'rad probably didn't know that she knew. The wound that had killed the guard didn't match any of the man's blades; only the woman could have done it.

"You expect me to believe that not only was an old woman a threat to the queenrider, but that one of my guards was also a threat?" She'd more willingly believe that the woman was a threat than her guards. She couldn't, with the little information she had, believe that they had both been a threat that needed to be dealt with. While she might not like the queenrider in question or the rider she was questioning she did more or less like her duty as Senior Wherhandler and teaching the wherhandlers and guards was quite rewarding for all that she complained endlessly about it and acted like a cranky old dog during training sessions.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

“What you chose to believe doesn’t change the truth,” K’rad stated. He managed to state it, well, not firmly, but without nervousness at least. No sign or indication that he knew himself a murderer, a thief, and a liar. A man who betrayed not just his companions, but their memories as well. A man who never should have been chosen by any dragon. This would have been so much easier, shards, his whole life would have been so much easier, if only Belegurth had chosen Nalkeldar instead.

Never! You are a million times more than he could ever be.

Yeah, a million times more a liar, a million times more a thief, a million times more a murderer, K’rad spat back, though nothing showed anywhere on his face to indicate the exchange taking place with his dragon.

“They were threats to Lady Artemis. I killed them. Believe it or not as you choose.”