The Bold And The Restless


Lorayit.jpg Olira.jpg NPC'd by Nenienne Suli.jpg Vaputero and S'las (NPC)

Date: June 24, 2011
Location: Weyr Gardens, EW
Synopsis: Vaputero and Olira finally meet and the Bitran meets his son. Olira is defiant and the meeting predictably does not end well.
Rating: PG-18 for some violence and language.
Logger: Lorayit

When the meeting day was finally set up by the Headwoman and the southern crimelord, Vaputero Ilste make sure he had dressed the part. He was in dark, dusty blue leathers with black wherhide boots, looking as scruffy an outside as he could be. The meeting was set up in the Weyr gardens with its blonde gardener standing by along with at least six visible, burly-looking stablehands. Max didn’t seem present in the growing darkness as evening descended, but with Waine present among the stablehands, one could guess that his boss was not that much far behind. Lorayit perched on the smooth, jutting rock with a bottle in hand while both Vaput and his second, Faust, stood before him – facing out towards where they were told Olira and his son was going to arrive. Further examinations will produce the towering Telgari barmaid present as well, though Suli has set herself far off down the row of flowers and looking like her presence there was merely happenstance. Should anyone else venture into the gardens this night? They would find they path blocked all around with the other men posted about the garden. It meant that essentially, this was a private, exclusive meeting. Faust was fidgeting beside his boss as he eyes all the protection around them warily, muttering out loud, “They act as if we’re going to set the Weyr on fire with all present,” to which he could hear Lo’s snort from up above him along with the brisk words, “You caused violence up in Telgar. Kinda goes with the territory, mate,” in very dry tones. The bit Bitran says nothing.

Olira's footsteps drag as she approaches the garden, carrying her son. She is wearing a white half-chemise with a green bodice laced up high, and a long green skirt with gold trim depicting firelizards… or maybe dragons. Over her shoulder is a white cloth common for women who have nursing babies. In all, hard to pick out from any other random woman at the Weyr. Rellehan is mostly asleep, dressed in a clean creeper of royal blue, with subtle shadings of brown and bronze. As she approaches the garden she notices the men standing there and asks, her voice almost hopeful, "The garden is closed?"

When the guards see Olira approach, being loosely escorted by S’las, they immediately part for her. Suli straightens at the movement, watching her move down the main row of cultivated flowers with interest. Lorayit spots her before Vaputero and his second gives voice of notice, the gardener slowly straightening from his lounging position to drag his gaze over her form. Faust nudges Vaputero, even though the big Bitran was already watching in the direction she was coming, and therefore, saw her coming. Unnerving eyes watch her progress, it lingering on certain parts of her as she comes closer, before he could see something of his son. “Very nice,” Faust is grunting, and it draws a cold look from Lorayit. As Vaput frowns at the way his son is dressed, S’las answers Olira before the guards do with a jaunty, “No one gets in, no one gets out. About as locked as a stingy Lord Holder! Never you fear, Relly,” and he turns to send a cavalier smile on her, nodding towards her son. “You will be safe here.” Beat. “Ah! Here’s the man now,” and looking all the more like this was to be some picnic as opposed to the rise of tension, S’las guides Olira down the rows toward the waiting men. Close enough to be heard now, he nods to Vaput and states, “Bitra. Never thought I’d meet one as you this far south.”

Olira sighs as they obviously mean to let her through, and allows herself to be escorted. She tenses visibly as she sees Vaputero, and Rel stirs, sensing his mother's distress. He opens his eyes, still baby blue, and looks around at all of the people. Olira actually stops before S'las does, keeping a distance between herself and the baby's father. She stands mute as the men exchange their pleasantries, her gaze falling on Lorayit.

Lorayit easily meets Olira’s gaze and remains silent, ever the watchful gardener as he sits upon his rock. He exudes an easiness he does not feel, calmly drinking from his bottle as Vaputero addresses S’las when he first speaks up. Sniffing derisively with his eyes only for Olira and his son, “I’ll take your insolence to familiarity with me and assume you we come from the same place. Olira.” He drops the name now, casually dismissing the bronzerider before he could say anything more. He takes a step forward then and finds the guards about the perimeter moving closer as well. “So it’s to be that sort of game,” Faust rumbles, keeping in one spot with his hand falling to the hilt of his knife. The guards meant nothing to the big Bitran. “My son,” he gestures with one big hand for the little boy to be shown fully, his jaw tight. “I want to see my son, woman.”

Olira does not approach Vaputero, and just holds Rel close at first, and just about when it seems that she won't comply, she holds him out. Rel, for his part, begins to cry as his mother seems to push him away. For now it's a low wail which even a mother couldn't love, but Olira, despite trying to school her expression to keep it blank, gives off a triumphant, if short-lived, look.

When Rellehan starts to cry as she holds him out, Vaput looks as if he does not even hear the crying. He reaches forward, closing the distance to take up his son into his large arms, staring hard into the child’s wailing face as if trying to confirm that he was, indeed, his son. Tension is high as all those around watch everything unfold. After awhile into the heavy silence, “He’s certainly a lucky one to miss the famous Ilste nose,” Lo breaks the silence to draw, his gaze on his bottle rather than the scene before him. “Most of the looks, in fact. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.” – “Shut up, gardener,” Faust growls over his shoulder at the same time that Vaputero says to Olira, “You have him dressed like some holder’s boy.” Grey eyes shifting to look at her, “He’s no holder’s boy,” he adds coolly. “He’s my son, for sure. Sickly, perhaps,” he notes on the crying, straightening up. “Must be the climes down here. No fit place for a Bitran-born.”

At some point after Vaputero has taken him, Rel's wail turns into a furious scream, pointing to very healthy lungs despite what his father thinks. Instinctively Olira tries to take him back when he begins screaming, forgetting for a moment who she's dealing with. Although not forgetting entirely, because her voice is low and angry as she says, "He's not Bitran born. He was born here."

“He was born in Telgar, actually,” Vapuero drops smoothly as Rellehan screams even more, his body turning slightly as if to stave the redhead off from her son. “Made there, at least. Surely, you haven’t forgotten that.” –“Give her back the babe,” S’las puts himself into the conversation, some of his cavalier tone now gone in light of Vaputero’s words. “We don’t want no trouble here, Bitra.” The bronzerider even holds out his hands for the child back, offering a smile along with it. “Everyone knows a child needs his ma, and yours is no exception.” Vaput is largely hesitant, frowning at this man that is putting himself into their time. Even Suli has moved closer, no longer pretending to study flowers. Faust steps forward then, his eyes hard and cold on the dragonrider before stating, “This ain’t your business, dragonrider.” – “Nor is it yours, Faust,” Lorayit drawls from his rock, his blue eyes flicking towards the scene – and mostly Olira. “How about you leave ma and sire to talk, eh?” Silence reigns before Vaput finally hands the screaming babe over to S’las, which S’las returns to Olira’s arms. Displeased, clearly, “This is no place for a child of Ilste,” he declares, stepping to the side to put Olira and Rellehan firmly in his view. “He should be raised up in Bitra, where he belongs.”

Anger flashes in her eyes, and Olira's reply is immediate and sharp, "No."

Vaputero almost expected that quick reply, but his hands ball into fists at his side anyway. Twitch of one fist was him battening down the urge to not smack the woman regardless of whether the guards were there or not. “No,” he echoes her words coldly, his steely gaze trained on her. “Not often I let someone keep me from something, or someone, I want,” he seems to warn carefully, casually. “Hardly at all. You think you’re protected here. That’s why you’re being defiant right now.” Eyes flick towards S’las, who’s standing close to Olira now, and then around at what guards he could see. After a moment, “If you think you can keep my son from me, woman….”

Olira does not quail from him, instead making a show of calming the fretting boy. "Rehellan is *my* baby," she says firmly. "I will not anyone separate him from me, especially not a rapist." As she speaks her voice becomes more defiant and she holds the baby to her tightly enough that he whimpers. Only then does the fierceness fade as she shushes and comforts the boy. "And you heard him scream — he hates you, like you deserve."

Olira, more defiant. Fist almost lifts, the movement a reflex before eyes falls on a S’las lightly touching the hidden knife at his side. “No,” he counters Olira, his eyes meeting the bronzerider’s. “He is mine, and I would not dare part my son from his mother. Not now.” Arms coming to a fold, “You would return with my son to Bitra. I already have made arrangements. As to your…..cousin,” he adds, speaking of Kelarad, “I will speak to the man.” But then her latter words hit him along with the name she calls him, and there’s a touch of cold amusement in his eyes for it. Head tilting down at her, “He screams because he is not used to the touch of a man,” he drops drolly. “A matter that should be remedied.” Taking a step closer then, “And you?” he adds, taunting. “You hate me like my screaming boy? When I thought we had such a good time……” and he permits his cruel gaze to slide down her form, seeming to undress her from where he stands.

Olira's voice is cold and furious as she says, "I'm not leaving here, nor would I even leave for my cousin. And certainly not for you." "You" has all of the fondness of the woman for a fetid pile of tunnelsnake droppings. She takes a step back as he approaches, though not closer to the bronzerider as might be expected of the formerly meek barmaid. She struggles with the urge to say something, and finally the urge wins. "And if he does need more time with a man, you would not qualify. Real men don't rape. Rellehan is not yours. He's mine."

“And how will you think to stop me?” Vaputero asks far too casually, his brows furrowing. A hand unfurls and he flicks it outwards toward the guards that surround them. “Because they are here? Because they follow me so? You speak boldly for one that thinks they will stay around forever.” It was clear that he wasn’t going to intimidate the former barmaid this time, and the thought was as annoying as the growing darkness. He didn’t expect her coldness; he expected her fear. “I blame this fucking Weyr,” he speaks his thought aloud, his teeth grating as he turns about – the walls getting his dark ire. “This Weyr! To insult me with my son in this place!” Grey eyes round on Olira, his body tense before S’las now unsheathes his knife slowly. “Bold words,” he sneers those two words like they were rising bile in his mouth. “Such bold words were missing up in Telgar. Perhaps I didn’t beat the lesson in good enough that time. That is my regret.”

Olira looks fearful for just a moment when he asks how she will stop him, then reasserts, "You keep calling him yours. He is not your son. He never was, he never will be. He is mine, he's staying here with me, and this meeting is over." Rel has started crying again, and as she stalks down the flowery aisle she coos to the baby as if no one was there with them.

“Must’ve been that old man we tossed up north that’s given her such courage,” Faust finally breaks his silence from the rock, seeming to find the exchange amusing. It’s words that doesn’t go unanswered when Olira counters, her short words like a slap to the big Bitran’s face. Eye narrow as she turns to stalk off, the man immediately set to rushing at her back when he finds a knife held up to his throat. “Told you to back down,” S’las warns now, his tone a steely edge. Eyes lock and Vaputero slowly reaches up to grip the hand holding to knife as he presses his bared neck forward. The knife bites, and the blood starts to leak, and his eyes shoot from S’las to Olira. “Olira!!!” He calls out in near rage, her words inflaming him. “This is not over, you hear me! Don’t you walk away from me-“ – “It’s over, Vaput,” Lorayit cuts in, stepping down from his rock to pass a cold look in Faust’s direction. “Olira, you-!!” Vaput tosses at her back before the knife bites into his neck again and this time, he wrenches at S’las and slams a fist right into his unprotected belly. Before anything starts, Lo is jumping back when S’las counters with his own fist and the guards start moving in to restraint the crimelord of Bitra. Faust has his knife out in a flash, but in that instant, Suli is there with a hand stalling him from using it. “If you value your life,” is all she says to that, to which the cry of a dragon could be heard at a close distance. It was a warning.

Although Olira almost turns out of habit when her name is called, she ends up simply calling back, "Olira is no longer here. I'm Relly." And, with that, she continues to walk out, and, if uninterrupted, back to the Weyr proper.

Vaputero hears her insolence, and the man is not quite restrained to keep from going at her. He launches with a growl towards her, not even making it three steps before four of the guards along with S’las reach him and slams his body down on the ground. Faust wrenches his hand free from Suli to go and help his boss, but the remaining guards that appear, along with Max and his second, falters his steps. “You did this!!” Vaputero cries out meanwhile as the men are all needed to keep his down, the big Bitran wrenching this way and that to try and get free. “Get the fuck offa me!! My son! Get me-“ – “I think fellis and whiskey will get him through the night,” Suli sends toward Lo, stepping to his side to watch the crimelord of Bitra being restrained. Before she herself heads off, for the meeting was clearly at an end, she tosses in her wake, “See it done.” One hopes that the gardener takes heed, for otherwise there will be an ornery renegade in the Weyr this night. “And Faranth helps any that should get in his way,” is Lorayit’s murmured words as his gaze lingers on both Suli and Olira before the gardener moves to set about making the tonic.

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