Not As Planned [D'ren]

It didn't seem like so long ago that M'bal had been striding over to D'ren's hut with his intent on claiming the position of Weyrsecond. Now he was going there at D'ren's request and he was smug beyond words. This, of course would be his promotion.

Gugaroth was soaring above them, trilling happily. He had been anticipating this morning as much as his rider had, but the Bronze at least had the sense not to bugle before the events had actually transpired. He swirled around, doing a little dive and spin every now and then. They weren't as tight or quick as a Green's would be, but being one of the smallest Bronzes around Gugaroth managed them with relative ease.

Arriving at D'ren's hut, M'bal tugged at his clothes, smoothing them as well as his hair. Shaking his head to send the strands flying again he knocked loudly on the door, smiling as Gugaroth landed beside him. The great Bronze crooned, gently bumping his rider with his nose in encouragement. He then turned, bugling an excited greeting to Ronarth. Hello Ronarth! How are you? He walked over to the great dragon, a clear bounce in his step.

When D'ren answered the door M'bal gave him a courteous nod and entered. "Good morning. How are you today?" He asked as walked over to the table they had used for meetings before. He took a seat, watching as D'ren did the same opposite him. His hands rested neatly on the table, fingers interlocked as he looked to the Weyrleader expectantly.

What a disappointing day.

D'ren sighed softly as he glanced out his window and traced the approach of M'bal's exuberant bronze. Ronarth was equally muted. Are you sue there's nothing we can do for them? the gentle dragon asked, eyes flashing yellow with a touch of anxiety.

No D'ren with with regret. The aging bronzerider crossed his arms and watched as Gugaroth wheeled close by. They're going to get what they deserve

Ronarth turned his head towards his fellow bronze and rumbled a greeting, but the simple dragon couldn't inject any manufactured happiness into it. Hello, Gugaroth he said dejectedly.

D'ren wished Ronarth would keep a low profile and not blow the lid off of his plan. M'bal's reaction would almost certainly be bad, and D'ren preferred to have the upper hand rather than see his subordinate come in swinging. Fortunately, M'bal was at the door before Ronarth could say much else.

"Hello, M'bal. Can you come talk to me for a minute?"

D'ren poured some klah, just like last time, and seated himself. He maintained a level of frosty professionalism far removed from his usual warmth. He knew he was known as a softie. He knew people thought they could get away with anything. He wanted M'bal to know that he was serious before they even started speaking.

Once they were settled, D'ren set his eyes on M'bal. The Weyrleader felt the sting of betrayal as he regarded this other man, one who might have been a valued and respected ally. M'bal could have been someone for the next generation to rally around an find strength in. But D'ren was trusting, and once his trust was gone, it was gone forever. To him, M'bal was a snake...and would be until the end of time.

"M'bal, something very serious has come to my attention."

At Ronarth’s lack-lustre greeting Gugaroth creeled quietly, coming to stand before the usually high-spirited Bronze. What’s wrong? The smaller Bronze didn’t pause to think that maybe Ronarth was sad because of something that was due to transpire within the hut, M’bal was much to self-assured for that. Cautiously he reached out with his snout, unsure if Ronarth would be seeking comfort or not.

Inside, M’bal was proud, but he wasn’t unobservant. Previous meetings and other encounters with D’ren had him as consistently warm and friendly. This was markedly different.

“Of course. What do you wish to talk about?” He asked, taking a sip of the klah he had been poured. Bright eyes watched the Weyrleader cautiously, these weren’t the mannerisms of a man about to offer a promotion. Or perhaps he was trying to appear less ‘soft’? It certainly was one of the great criticisms he constantly received.

“Something serious?” A pang of worry momentarily flushed through M’bal. Was this something that would impact on himself? He quickly brushed the thought aside and kept his features composed. No, this would be something else D’ren had discovered. Something he was unsure of and was seeking council on. Yes, that had to be it. M’bal’s confidence surged.

Gugaroth’s eyes flashed yellow as he felt the worry emanating from his rider, though it was only brief. Turning his head he tried to peer in through a window but found he couldn’t see anything useful. He returned his attentions to Ronarth, eager to know what was upsetting the other dragon.

Ronarth crooned and pushed his snout forward, tenderly meeting Gugaroth's. I don't like days like today the bronze confessed. He felt D'ren's mind intruding harshly on his own, stopping him for saying anything else. The bronze let out a sharp whimper and tucked his head under his wing. He didn't understand why D'ren couldn't just forgive them. Politics were stupid, and Ronarth liked Gugaroth...

D'ren took another long sip, tipping his cup back just enough to drink without actually tearing his gaze away from M'bal's. The Weyrleader's uncharacteristic, deadly-serious expression was both fierce and fearless.

Betrayal

Deception

No need to sugarcoat it, or deal in long, senseless lead-ins. Best to just say it.

"I learned that you were involved in the attack on Tsuen's hut some turns ago," he said. His tone was calm and firm, his eyes unnaturally cold. He knew it was true, and there was no changing his mind.

"I'm afraid that means you're not what I'm looking for in a Weyrsecond. I'll be giving the position to someone else." He'd already made up his mind who - and it wasn't his previous second, either!

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, M'bal," D'ren continued, his tone softening. It wasn't remorse, but disappointment. He'd had such high hopes for M'bal. He could have been such a good addition to the hierarchy...but no. He was just a troublemaker like so many others.

Good men were so hard to come by.

Gugaroth nuzzled Ronarth, crooning back at him. What's wrong with today? When he pulled back with a whimper Gugaroth tilted his head, creeping forward and sitting down. Reaching out he nuzzled at Ronarth's neck, creeling softly. What's wrong? Gugaroth was mostly oblivious to M'bal now, aware enough of his rider to only feel sharp spikes of emotion. Right now, Ronarth's unhappiness was his concern. M'bal would be fine.

M'bal listened as D'ren dove straight into why he had called him there that morning. He continued to sip at the klah politely, his face eerily expressionless. At the mention of the hut burning he masked the flash of irritation in his eyes by glancing down into his mug. He didn't know who had tattled or how it had gotten its way up to D'ren, but if he managed to get his hands on whoever it was... Well. They wouldn't be enjoying their life for a long time to come.

What followed this announcement wasn't entirely surprising. It was hard to be shocked when D'ren of all people was acting frosty and bringing up things he certainly wouldn't have approved of. Nevermind that he hadn't been involved with Tsuen at that time, after all, it was fuelled by rage at Nirinath's lack of rising. Sensing Gugaroth's occupation outside he kept his frustrations and disappointment to himself as he took a final sip from the mug of klah. He left it unfinished, it would do no good to chug down the remainder of the drink or to idle about drinking it at a reasonable pace. It was clear D'ren didn't want his presence felt anymore and that was how it would be.

He stood, tucking the chair neatly in and nodding curtly to the Weyrleader. "I hope he serves you well." M'bal spoke not unkindly, in fact it sounded truly as if he were indeed well-wishing the man that had succeeded in obtaining the powerful position. Was he? Unlikely. But appearances had to be kept and while he would slit the throat of whoever had let that tidbit of information slip, he understood that it made him appear reckless and that it was not D'ren he should be angered with. Recklessness like that was something any sane Weyrleader wouldn't want serving in the rider as his right hand man. "Good day, D'ren."

With that M'bal turned neatly on his heel and strode out, head held high. He had failed, but nobody would know how deep it had cut him. It would appear brushed off. As he closed the door behind him Gugaroth looked up, his eyes whirling a confused purple. M'bal? The Bronze asked, moving to approach his very un-celebratory rider. 'Don't worry. All is well. You may stay here if you wish to talk with Ronarth.' M'bal answered, giving his dragon a quick pat on the nose before continuing to walk off.

Gugaroth gave a small creel, confused and unsure where to go. Ronarth was upset, M'bal wasn't radiating the joy he should have been... What was going on? He tried to pry into his rider's mind but to no avail, what had transpired inside was walled tightly off from the Bronze, so tight not even the sharpest Blue would be able to delve within. Shuffling awkwardly he whined, at a loss for what to do. Eventually he took off into the air, flying the complete opposite direction M'bal had walked in. Today was not what he had expected.