Receiving a Guest

Xanadu Weyr - Etched in Stone Retreat
The vault-like rooms are separated from the dragon space with a heavy, richly-carved wooden door, easily swung on well-oiled iron hinges. Inside, the walls here are smoothed, squared and painted in a neutral sand hue, obviously excavated by mastercraft stonemasons long ago. The domed ceiling, inlaid with the same russet wood that the door is cut from, adds a contrast, depth and elegance and is enhanced by the recessed lighting that causes the wood to glow warmly. These rooms are supplied electricity, the wiring cleverly hidden beneath the woodwork that embellishes the doorways.
The first room, large enough to meet with all of Xanadu's wingleaders is obviously intended as a large sitting room. It contains several fine couches upholstered with tapestry of earthen tones with bronze and gold woven through the fabric. They are arranged around the perimeters and flanked by multiple sandalwood end and klah tables the color of bleached driftwood. Exquisite hand blown glass lamps in coppered tones add a soft ambience to the room and augment the overhead lighting. Polished volcanic tiles from the Igen deserts gleam with an ebony sheen - each laid carefully by the hand of a mastercraftsman throughout the rooms of this weyr. Scattered here and there are thick, soft, handmade tufted floor rugs in earthy tones, handmade by desert dwellers.

The invitation was a quiet one, a simple request that landed in the Steward's in box some day or two ago, written in a scroll work hand by the Ierne bronzerider which once, before Thea stripped him of it, claimed to be a Weyrleader of Xanadu. Of course, history will see him as the shortest termed Weyrleader and will likely make some small mention of his departure on the eve of some great danger. Regardless, the letter was sent and the request was simple, for the Steward to come by when the time was permitted to him, for there needed to be a few matters discussed before the bronzer was fully healed and allowed, nay, forced to return to Ierne. All the same, it was signed by the man's name, leaving bare any rank or title that may have once befitted him.

The day as it is, is growing long and continues ever to press on for a man whose been cooped up long within his personal weyr, away from the prying of eyes and the keen eyes and ears which like to prattle on some line of gossip. The afternoon sun is continuing to press low in the horizon, while in the man's personal weyr, electrical light is already been flicked on because of the grow of shadows within the stone keep. He's no longer wearing a sling, but it is enough to see he is still bandaged and the wounds not yet healed. His dress is in a style of one who longs for comfort rather than style, comfortable pants and a loose shirt adorns him in places of slacks or fitted trousers and overcoats. The weather is decent, so no hearth is aflame nor, keeping him cozy in his current state. His hair is tied back, having grown long in the days of the Weyr, as he calls it, long enough now that it suits a small tail behind him. His beard has also grown out and is spotted by strands of grey, as to showing briefly in the wave of his ebon hair. He wasn't sure if he should anticipate his messages were received or if they were, if they had simply been ignored. Either way, he is not prepared for a guest as it was in this moment, being as he's hunched over some books, not to say, that he couldn't be if the situation arose. His lifemate, was sullen, as such he was when the news hit his lifemate of no longer being needed for duty. His lifemate, more than he, took the gravity of those words to heart. Yarovith, after all, preferred life in a Weyr, which was alive and bustling to a creature who has so long lived alone, despite the manner of other dragons being in and without Ierne.

It is not without a certain degree of wariness that Jethaniel has accepted this invitation; his interactions with the then-Weyrleader were not entirely pleasant. Nevertheless, he has accepted. He arrives now, still dressed from his day at the office in fitted pants and a plain blue-gray shirt. The Steward pauses outside A'dmar's doorway, regarding it for a long moment with a frown. This is, in truth, the first day he's had an opportunity to come by at something like a reasonable hour… though perhaps the meetings and reports that kept him busy previously were not quite so urgent as he informed himself. Still, today he had no such excuse he was willing to accept, and so after a moment, he takes a breath, arranges his features in a neutral expression, and knocks briskly on the door.

The knock, had Yarovith been around to give him an account of who appears at his doorway, was surprising, breaking his concentration from the books that Thea may or may not have discovered at some point in her eager search to dispose of him. Those, get closed immediately, and tucked under more relevant subject matters, to do with Ierne most like or technology as it were. Maybe something in there about felines too. What else is a man to do but read in his spare time? Clearly, not enough to occupy him from his requests previously written. So he stands, eyes snapping down to his pile of books, leaving his own personal account of his life open and the writing pot with quill there to the side as if he had just stopped mid-sentance to see to the door. In fact, he had, stopped, but hours ago, when some thought over came him and brought him back to reading. Still, should one look, it would be the man's own confessions streaming across the page. He moves now with a more assured pace, drawing up to the door, frowning at the lack of his lifemate's support, which has been less since the knot was taken from A'dmar. Even so, the man opens the door with a careful clutch of his hand near the back of his hip, where a sheath is fitted under those comfortable clothing. Caution is never far from this man, his life at times, depended on it.

As the door opens, a crack at first, he peers out in a suspicious manner, his foot on the other side of the door to prevent any unwanted guests from bursting in. Ahh, but upon seeing the Steward, he shifts, foot moves away, and the door swings wider, "Steward Jethaniel," he acknowledges the man with the respect deserved, perhaps, more than A'dmar has ever shown in the past. "I see you have gotten my request," he states simply, stepping back with the door to invite the fellow in, "If it pleases you, I would have you as a guest. Come in."

While Jethaniel is accustomed to acting with caution around some things - live electricity, for instance, or certain chemicals - he is less familiar with the proper forms of caution around other people. He goes around unarmed; his thoughts, here in the Weyr, are not of physical danger. Even now, as a restless shift of his hands to adjust his jacket betrays his nervousness, he would not think to look for weapons. The door opens slightly, and his gaze goes to it, looking into that narrow crack… but before the delay can make him frown, A'dmar opens the door the rest of the way. The greeting itself only increases his caution, and his response is a wary nod. There's a moment's delay as he considers the fact that this man is no longer named Weyrleader, and then, perhaps for the first time, Jethaniel admits to his face that he knows the man's name. "A'dmar." As A'dmar continues, there's a note of surprise in Jethaniel's face. This is not how he has come to expect to be spoken to by this man. "I did," he says, and his gaze takes in the room beyond before slowly stepping inside, following the invitation and attempting to avoid considering its potential similarity to entering a feline's den.

A'dmar has long since learned to be cautious around other men, a trait that he was born with one can say, being from where he was and something that has continued to reappear all throughout his life. Men were not to be trusted, women less. Still, he appears at least relaxed in a way that he hasn't been in the last few months. At least, he doesn't appear to want to throttle the Steward or use that concealed weapon upon the man. As it is, he retreats back into the main portion of the weyr, offering the hesitating techcrafter some option of a drink, "Wine, water, or brandy to ease your tension?" No. A'dmar was not daft in the ways of reading other men and their subtle body language most would fail to see. At this point, he invites the Steward to have a seat, starting soon enough with an expectation of the meeting, "I will not take too much of your time Steward, at least, not as I once did." He here, is perhaps on the verge of making some subtle change himself. He's not at all tense or showing his stoic features, instead, he's wearing an ease of a man long freed of some chains that bound him, whatever those chains happened to be at the time. Weight is off his heart and he is more mild mannered than uptight and ready to chew someone's face off for an ill timed word. Once and if he goes about retreiving what Jethaniel requested, he'll reseat himself where he was in front of his pile of books. There he will wait for a time until Jethaniel gets semi-comfortable, even if that in itself would be a facade for the eyes. That's when A'dmar will regard the man, plainly, "Anger is a wretched thing, Jethaniel, and because of it, it has caused you through me some distrubances in your life. For that, I wished to see you in person and to admit to my faults and ask for your forgiveness. I see, perhaps only now, that I was never capable of tolerating you because of how the Weyrwoman advanced you so arrogantly in front of me." There was no changing the past, as it was, now. "You are a compentent individual and I would be remiss if I did not have the opportunity to say as such before I depart." Finally, maybe before the other had a chance to pipe in a word, he adds, "I bear you no ill will, even if that, seems false to your ears."

Were the choice presented to him, Jethaniel would certainly choose in favor of not being throttled or stabbed. Since the decision has already been made, he shall simply consider himself fortunate. "No, thank you," he says to the offered drink - not that he thinks A'dmar is likely to poison it (for instance) but merely because he doesn't actually want one, and he is not so adept at social interactions as to recognize the manner in which accepting hospitality serves to create a sense of ease. The offering of it, at least, has somewhat of a soothing effect on a subconscious level, and his posture is more relaxed as he settles into the offered chair. "I have some time," he says in response to A'dmar's promise not to waste it. Much of the wariness has receded, curiosity rising to replace it. His gray eyes are steady on A'dmar, and as the former Weyrleader speaks of his anger, Jethaniel nods slightly; an acknowledgment of the truth of those words. He remains silent, continuing to listen and consider upon what more A'dmar has to say - of which, it seems, there is a great deal; enough that he continues to consider for long enough that all of A'dmar's words are finished, and there's a moment more besides, before Jethaniel speaks any in reply. "I did not ask to become Steward," he says, and his tone is careful. "Nor did I expect it. As I see it… a Steward serves the Weyr." He pauses, just for a moment, to put more of those careful words together. "I would have served you." There, he cannot prevent his frown. He certainly tried to do his duties to the entire Weyr… but things didn't exactly work out that way. "I do serve Thea." The Weyrwoman: the other half of who controls a Weyr. The one who remains in charge here, and retains her Steward. "I shall continue to do so. I do not require your approval." That said, he inclines his head slightly, and his voice softens. "However. We have had our disagreements, but I do not intend to hold grudges."

There was much to say now that he had not to worry about the words he chooses and in which way they would in turn effect the Weyr. A backwards logic perhaps, that had him twisted inside out, before, with the title, trying to keep from saying too much or too little. It was a balance act he no longer had to walk, having fallen as far as he could in such a short time. Before Jethaniel, is not the outwardly hard man with little in the way of emotions to share to the word, nor is he tight lipped and tense from some dissatisfaction at being in the company of the man who he disliked only for the way he was given his position. Had there been some talk of who to fill in the role before the knot was thrust at Jethaniel, A'dmar may have taken to it better than he did. Seeings on how that was not the case, here he is, free of title and responsibility, in all likelihood to return to Ierne as time permits. And it shows on his expression, the man he should've been from the start, someone who could be trusted, who had seen much in his time, good or ill will, and -had- some shape of personality under the guise of a stone mask. He now gives the floor to Jethaniel, as fits the flow of the conversation, allowing the other to say what must be said. The admission that he would've served A'dmar makes the man nod, to some extent, "To such things, I was blinded by my point of view and my opinions of what had transpired." Such opinions he leaves unspoken, for any of those said now would further complicate the point of inviting Jethaniel here, which was, and is, only to apologize and wish him well. There might be a warning too, given the circumstances, but in a way to serve the Weyr and nothing personal.

As for Jethaniel's insistance that he will continue to serve, A'dmar only nods, "As I would fully expect. I can only hope the next Weyrleader sees what I failed to see too late." He does amuse, a gleam in his eyes that hints at such when Jeth states he doesn't need A'dmar's approval, "Of course you don't, for who am I now but a mere visitor and guest in this Weyr? You may know, must know by now, since you serve her, as you say, that I am no longer in a position to approve or disapprove of anything that happens in Xanadu." He shrugs, looking down at the books, glancing aft to his own memoirs, before he includes, "I stay long enough to see my daughter on the sands, afterward, I ask she can keep this weyr when I depart. I realize it is much to ask in the way that space may be lacking, but the girl will need it." Such a good father, "Despite what happens for her, I would like to visit her from time to time and it is a decent sized lodging for Yarovith when we visit." Already, he's given thought to his future. He does nod to the part of grudges, "I would leave here without bitterness and this is why I called upon you, to see that some of my wayward choices are corrected."

A natural break in the conversation allows him to pick up one of the books about felines, to which he passes to Jethaniel, "I will continue to go with the hunting parties for now, until the hatching. There is something amiss with how this has all come to be. I would ask you to pass this along to Thea," the page has been marked and it has to do with all that has been recorded of felines and their habitats, a find written from the beastcraft at one point or another, when they were far more numerous in the lands. "I believe, we, the Weyr, may have something to fear in all this. The animals are not known to go so boldly as we have seen it. And with the collar found, I dare say we should anticipate a group, maybe even a group like the one Laris' leads, is behind it." A beat, "In any case, she likes reading, so I surmise that if she hasn't read this one yet, because it was in my possession, she may like to."

And of those opinions of A'dmar's, Jethaniel does not inquire further. He simply nods to accept the explanation. He has neither need nor desire to know - for while he may not intend to hold any grudges, this new A'dmar is as of yet a stranger to him, and Jethaniel finds himself with little urge to ask regarding the emotional states of strangers. Regarding the next Weyrleader, Jethaniel spreads his hands. That is a question that will be answered by time. Insofar as it has already been answered with the interim Weyrleader… Jethaniel does not choose to reveal. Likely unsurprising; after all, he didn't speak of his relationship with the former Weyrleader, even to those who are much more friend than stranger. "I am aware," he says of A'dmar's current lack of influence in the Weyr. Oh, yes. Jethaniel knows. His Weyrwoman informed him so. As for A'dmar's request, Jethaniel leans back in the chair slightly. "Domestic management is, properly speaking, the domain of the Headwoman." There's a quirk to his lips as he says it, though his tone remains fairly neutral, and as he continues, the expression returns to the same. "That includes residential assignments. However, I assure you that Zahleizjah will have suitable accomodations for as long as she chooses to remain here at Xanadu." That assurance comes easily, for he expects that Ocelara will see to it without even having to be asked. It is, after all, her domain… though whether those suitable accomodations will be this large weyr is a different matter entirely.

Jethaniel watches as A'dmar goes to retrieve the book, accepting it and lowering his gaze to that page, skimming quickly before lifting his eyes to A'dmar once more. For the bronzerider's presence on the hunting parties, he nods. "Wingleader Ers'lan may arrange his patrols as he sees fit." With or without A'dmar's presence, presumably. Jethaniel seems to be ducking responsibilities left and right, today - at least, those which do not, in fact, properly fall within the realm of a Steward. Those concerns about the felines are listened to, and there Jethaniel nods. "You may be right. I do not like what I know of the situation," he frowns, "-and I do not know nearly enough." The book is hefted slightly. "I will give this to Thea." That, at least, he considers sufficiently within his domain. Perhaps he'll read it himself before he does, but providing reports is definitely something a steward does. Speaking of such, "I have read the reports on your find, but is there anything you would direct my attention to specifically?"

Whoever Thea chooses is not for him to worry about, nor would anyone take his advice because of what he has proven to be. A'dmar accepts the fact that Jethaniel knows and can only assume in short order the rest of the Weyr will know of it too. And does that bother A'dmar? It might have once, but now he's worked out his frustrations in a good copy of his memoirs and looks ready to be done with Xanadu. In fact, the way he's already speaking of the 'next' weyrleader speaks clearly enough to this realization. For his daughter, at least, he seems disappointed, as this weyr was personally fitted for A'dmar and his relations, but, such things are at a minor loss when all that has happened can be considered. "Then I will hope to bring it to the Headwoman's attention and let an offer of purchase be made for it." He'll ensure his daughter is looked after, one way or another and if that means purchasing a weyr then so be it, the coffers of the Weyr could surely use his well earned marks.

Then again, Jethaniel seems to be avoiding matters which are not assigned him, well enough, for the Ierne bronzer minds the situation with another shrug. Indeed, it will be up to the acting weyrleader and the wingleader himself, if A'dmar is allowed to proceed, but then, they too would know he commands no authority other than of a tolerated guest. He says not, leaving words to thoughts, his eyes drifting back to his pages and the other books spread upon his table. The last, seems to draw the man's attention back toward the Steward, debating for a moment, before he comes up with a dismissive shrug, "I know it wasn't by chance these animals came upon us. But I can't specifically direct you one way or another. I'm certain the wingleaders or the Weyrwoman might have a better idea of where to go from here." He is, just an outsider now, to all this, and so he cannot begin to tell the other where to go or where to start. At this point however, he lifts himself upwards, "Thank you heeding my request. I know your time is precious and most valued. Good luck to you." As if, a departing gesture.

A'dmar has no authority, but he was was present on the scene; it is for that reason that Jethaniel asked after the direction of his thoughts. His goal was observations, not directions. Direction, when it comes, will indeed come from wingleaders or Weyrwoman - or perhaps from Jethaniel himself. There will certainly be meetings had, consultations made, and in the end… who knows? "It would seem perhaps there are those with grudges against this Weyr," Jethaniel says consideringly, and his gaze follows A'dmar as the bronzerider rises. Jethaniel does the same. "I am glad you are not among them." He extends his hand, offering a handshake - as one does, when meeting a stranger with whom one may yet do business, yet is nothing more than a visitor. "Good luck, A'dmar. Should you have cause, you know where to find me."

"Many a man in this world has cause to hold a grudge against a thing he doesn't understand," speaking of those who hate Weyrs or perhaps his own experience with Jethaniel, it is hard to say, as he does not elaborate or go further into his thoughts than that. The statement was what it is and can be applied to many examples in life, beyond the ones they see now. There is a slight lowering of his brow at the way the Steward seems to decide that the former weyrleader holds no grudge against the Weyr, "A place cannot hold my ire, nor of it's people, when they are not at fault." Those brows relax as he looks to the offered hand and takes that for a sign of some… newer beginning, indeed, reaching out to accept the terms of anew. "And the same to you, though I will doubt it greatly," seeings on how the Weyrwoman valued little his addition to the Weyr of late, more to the fact there were better people to consult about such things, "As the sun shines, I wish you well." At that point, he'll see Jethaniel out, before he makes it back to his den to continue his writing and reading.

Jethaniel may be many things, but an expert on human relations is not one of them. Thus, he simply nods to A'dmar's words about holding grudges. That lack of expertise is likely also why he presumes the bronzerider holds no grudge; after all, this meeting appears to him to have been an attempt at reconciliation - with Jethaniel, yes, but by extension with the Weyr. The situation with the former Weyrleader and Weyrwoman may yet be tense - as evinced by the book Jethaniel now carries under his arm, a message to her to be delivered through intermediary instead of directly - but the Steward has faith that A'dmar's personal displeasure will not carry over into a general distaste. Perhaps that faith is misplaced; time will tell, as it usually does. Jethaniel inclines his head to A'dmar, confirming his knowledge of the bronzerider's place of business without making a comment on whether he'll find something to ask about. "Farewell," he says as he departs. It's evening, and so he makes his way to his bedroom, not his office, because this week at least, he's (mostly) only working scheduled hours. The mostly comes into play soon enough, though, for instead of sleeping or going out again… he lies in bed and reads about felines.

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