NOTE: Some swearing in later poses!

Fort Weyr - Kitchen
After rising up an imposing flight of steps you enter an elaborate vaulted ceiling. The delicious smells that gently infuse the air drift out from this portion of the cavern. The head cook, Rickard, bustles about creating the masterpiece dishes that the weyr as a whole consumes. His extensive collection of prized copper cookware hangs upon their custom-made racks, reflecting soft light back out into the cavern proper. A handful of sub-cooks and helpers are engaged in an variety of food preparations, moving briskly but efficiently about their work. A pair of spit canines trot in their wicker wheels, continuously turning the spits with their slowly roasting joints that hiss and crackle over the fires.


This time of night sees all sorts of activity in the Kitchens, which is just fine with Hazelon, because the more bustle there is the easier it is fore him to blend into the background. Currently the teenager has found himself a corner next to the canines, chopping roots which are to go into the stew the next pot over. Every once in a while he slips a sliver down to the canine who takes them as their simple due.

The kitchen certainly does see all sorts of activity, but usually among certain ranks and positions. What usually doesn't show up is a Sr. Apprentice Harper and certainly not one that looks a bit harried and flustered and out of breath. One would almost say Rayathess looks like he was either in a very big hurry or he'd been chased in here. It's certainly not number one on his list of Places To Be. But here he is and one glance back over his shoulder and a grimace and a shudder, he'll slip a little further into the kitchens. Which leads to him spotting Hazelon there, by the canines and his expression seems grim. Slim picking of options here, but whatever is out there that chased him IN here to begin with seems to outweigh the awkwardness of crossing paths with the young teen. "Evening." he greets Hazelon, not quite coming to sit down and pointedly ignoring any looks he receives. So long as he's not in the way, he'll be safe, right? He says nothing else to the teen, simply waiting to see how he reacts first.

Um, What? Hazelon doesn't quite jump as Rayathess comes close to him, but dark suspicion slides across his eyes at what could possibly have brought the apprentice here of all times. "Evening." It comes out stiffly as Hazelon nails his attention back to his cutting board, and his chopping becomes a bit more forceful. This causes a brief glance from one of the cooks over to their corner, but there is nothing wrong with chopping forcefully, so Hazelon is ignored just as quickly. Maybe, maybe if he just keeps chopping Rayathess will just, go away.

Rayathess ignores that dark suspicion in Hazelon's eyes, though for good measure he keeps as discreet a watch on that knife as he possibly can. Can't blame him entirely for being a little nervous about it, especially when the young teen begins to chop so forcefully with it. "Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble." he mutters as he leans against the nearest counter top edge. He'll cross his arms over his chest too. See? Not a threat. Yet. An awkward silence follows, with Rayathess still recovering from his hasty retreat into the kitchens and likely trying to find how to phrase what he wants to say without getting Hazelon on the defensive. So, he opts for a bit of "light" chatter. Which probably makes the suspicions worse. "How's the firelizard egg?"

Hazelon's eyes eyes cut over to the hearth where his little basket of sand rests, safe from accidental tipping between the cages of the little canines. Raya is right, his attempt at standing relaxed does not at all bring down the instant guards that the Stonehaven brings up for Hazelon. The harsh chopping of the knife fills the silence for long moments before Hazel finally pushes out an answer. "Fine. It should hatch sooner rather than later." He doesn't ask a question back, that would just encourage Raya to stay.

Too bad for Hazelon that Rayathess is a stubborn jerk and also does not wish to go back out quite yet where he may face whatever horrors chased him in here to begin with. Truthfully, he'd much rather be anywhere else, given the frosty (but expected) reception from the young teen. "Good." Comes the curt and stiff reply from him and then all topic of firelizards and eggs dies with it. Silence again and Rayathess again weighs his options. Speak now or attempt to find the young teen again at a later time? He goes for now. Now, while Hazelon is preoccupied and cannot so easily escape without leaving his work unfinished. Rayathess has remembered that from their first encounter. Mustn't be a worker who shirks his duties, right? "I take it you two talked?" he ventures to add, cryptically. Not for the sake of any games, but for the sake of their privacy. Hazelon would know what Rayathess implies… that Ezra knows now. All because Rayathess told him.

"And I didn't even kill him." The hissed and rather sarcastic comment slips out before Hazelon can clamp it back down, just a hint of the personality he buries deep under the cover of passive hard-worker. Then, as if regretting allowing the mask to slip, even just a bit, Hazelon redubled his efforts on those roots, earning himself a slap on the back from one of the cooks as they brush by the pair. "It doesn't change anything." Ezra knowing that is. Because he's still a Stonehaven.

Rayathess visibly bristles at that hissed and sarcastic remark from Hazelon and briefly do his eyes flash with anger, only to be replaced by guilty and something akin to regret. His mind is far more logical this time and he's had time to think and mull over what he discussed with Ezra and some of the points that were brought up from that talk. How he may have been too harsh with the young teen (there's an understatement!), leaping to conclusions just as others had done with him. "It doesn't?" he replies, saying little else when that cook brushes by. He'll wait until they're gone and no one seems to be approaching too close to easily overhear. "Why is that? Because of who he is? Or who we are?"

Hazelon forces himself into even breathing, controlling himself firmly with all the practice the last three years have provided. Slowly he covers himself up, though Raya's purposeful digging does not at all help his attempts at zen. The last of the roots are chopped and Hazelon casts about for something else to cut. Thankfully, a nearby cook is more than willing to provide fresh fodder, and Hazelon goes back to work with gusto. "You both are Stonehaven. I'm nothing."

If Rayathess really had thought this through, he'd not be prying at Hazelon like this while the young teen was working with a knife. Not so much out of concern for his safety, as he's tentatively coming to terms that the youth means him no harm. It would be awful though if Hazelon were to knick himself from having his focus shattered. He's determined, however, to make some leeway with the teen or at least revert things back to an uneasy neutrality. "And this is what upsets you?" Rayathess mutters, giving Hazelon a look. His family name? That's the issue? Or was it that he lied when in those camps, pretending to be Setha, a nobody, just like the rest (and later sold them all out when he surrendered himself to Fort Weyr at Gold Hill Hold)? "You are not nothing, Hazelon. You are what you make yourself." he adds with a smirk.

There are also people around, and really, Rayathess can at least assume that after three years of hiding Hazelon's not going to flip out where he'll get caught. "Yeah. Right." The sarcasm drips out again, Hazelon's face lacking anything that might be a smirk. He'll look up at Raya, his dark eyes holding back the anger that he keeps bottled up. "How many of us went back to being holdless because there wasn't any other place?" It's a direct challenge to Rayathess. "My parents weren't good for anything before. And neither was I. This," and he waves the knife in the air, "is about as good as it gets for someone like me. We don't get dreams." The knife comes back down hard and he takes a deep breath, bringing back the calm after the flood of words. His throat scratches, how long as it been since he strung together that many words? Almost never these days. "What do you want Rayathess?"

There's a first time for everything? Rayathess' frown deepens, edging further towards a scowl when Hazelon's answering voice drips with sarcasm. What he isn't ready for is the direct challenge from the young teen and for a moment he can only stare blankly at him. "Not many." he answers flatly, which could very well be the truth. "Some did." Like Lyreh, despite his efforts to convince her otherwise and that failure still weighs on his shoulders. "Hazelon…" he begins, his expression grim for the words being spoken. Similar thoughts to his own, when he first returned to Fort Weyr. Hard to find inspiration to aspire to be anything when you're locked up in a prison cell. "You don't have to be like your parents! You can be more—-" But his protests fizzle out as he flinches as if struck, having gone silent long enough for the rest of Hazelon's retort to be spoken clearly. Those words, 'we don't get dreams' will likely haunt him now, among the many other things that clutter his mind. Unintentionally, he has bristled again, his "hackles" up and posture defensive until he forces himself to back down and relax. He has nothing to say in kind, no witty or inspiring remark of speech. He does, at least, have an honest answer for Hazelon's prompt. "To make amends… of sorts." An attempt and likely without him apologizing outright for his behaviour. He sighs, "Because you deserve as much of a chance at a happier life as the rest of them. Like Laurali, Marin, Iskim, Ennrian and Firarrion…"

Hazelon's grip on the knife in his hand shifts slightly, an instinctive move as Rayathess tenses, moving from a cutting grip to one which he could use to defend himself. "I'm nothing like my parents." His voice is low, and tight, his eyes fixed on the food that he is no longer actively chopping. "But I'll do what I have to do. Right now, that means staying out of the way." He forces himself to set the knife down on the cutting board and turns towards the canines. His body blocks any of the kitchen works from seeing what he is doing, and he kneels as if he would check on one of the small creatures. Rayathess will see however, he is doing nothing of the sort. Instead, his eyes close against Rayathess words. He crouches in that pose for long moments before quietly, "Stonehaven has no amends to make towards me."

Rayathess might have noticed how Hazelon's hand has shifted on that knife's handle but he wisely makes no note of it and continues to force himself to relax and calm down. It grates against his instinct to also be guarded like the young teen, against the instinct to not appear "weak" or "defenceless" but he does it. Unless they both want to wind up in cells for brawling in the kitchens. "Exactly." he agrees in a voice just as low, his eyes darting about nervously to be certain no other workers have approached. "You are not them or holdless." When he moves, Rayathess will stay where he is to observe Hazelon carefully, some wariness creeping into his eyes despite his efforts to school his expression to a neutral stance. "I am not speaking in the name of my family, so much as for myself as an individual. I am making amends to you." he explains in a hushed tone, half murmured and mostly muttered. Another trait picked up, perhaps, from the camps where some conversations had to be discussed… very carefully.

Hazelon reaches out, gently pulling one of the small canines out of its wheel. The canine, happy enough to be let off their work for a bit, licks Hazelon's hands expressively. This diversion allows Hazelon to not at all look at Rayathess. Just in a case someone might ask why the creature is not at work, Hazelon speaks up as if talking to the canine, "Got a bit of a splinter from the wicker. Be right as rain in just a moment." Once this basic cover is set in place, Hazelon will answer Rayathess, his voice unconsciously echoing the tone Rayathess had taken. From behind his posture speaks of none of the wariness that comes out in his voice. "I need no amends from you either. You did what needed to be done when you turned traitor, and I cannot find fault in that. It is what we did. Now go away and leave me be!"

Rayathess frowns again but more out of uncertainty and puzzlement when Hazelon picks up the canine and goes through so much effort for the diversion. Yet he can't fault the youth for his skill at it and so he plays along for now, effectively shifting his expression to one of polite concern and yet indifferent. Despite this, he's well aware of what Hazelon is doing and what he's saying and though their discussion is hushed and muttered, the words carry a significant blow that both sting and burn but also ignite his temper and some of his still healing wounds. "I had no other choice! I had to do it. He," No need to explain that reference. "had to be stopped!" he hisses to Hazelon, regret and guilt and the months, if not Turns now of torment over his decisions now coming to surface, eyes narrowing into a glare that he's quick to ease back when a few workers shuffle by again and he dons a false posture and attitude of casual idleness. Once they're gone, Rayathess is swift to turn back to the young teen. There are so much he could do… He could give in to his anger and take it out on poor Hazelon, after he's dragged the teen out of the kitchens. That would be too risky though and far too damaging for both of them. Rayathess is past that now (or so he likes to think). Another path would be to cut as low and deep as Hazelon had. An eye for an eye? But that solves nothing, even if it gives him brief satisfaction to have stung the youth as bad as he feels right now. Vindictiveness solves nothing. So Rayathess grits his teeth, jaw working silently as he struggles to keep all of that poison and vitriol down and buried. "No." he states cold and flat. He's not leaving Hazelon alone until this is settled (if even possible) or until the youth escapes him again. "Why the hatred, Hazelon?" Rayathess asks instead, his words clipped in his effort to keep his voice even and not raised in the anger he's still wrestling control over. "We're not in… we're not there anymore." Not that he's been so stellar in making the teen feel welcomed or wanted.

But it is his shield, and one his is darn good at keeping firmly in place. Enough that those few who know he was one of the children from the camp have quiet forgotten it, so different has Hazelon managed to appear. "I know." Flat, expressionless. "And none of the rest of us would have stood a chance doing what you did." But still, there is faint bitterness for how it had ended, and had left him struggling to figure out how best to fit into this new area. The battle Rayathess fights in himself over reaction is short lived for Hazelon. After three years there was only one reaction that was possible. He gives the small creature one last pet, then settles it back into its wheel, though he remains crouched down. "I don't hate you. Or any of you. I just… " Is he happy acting the part of a drudge? No. Does it cover him as a more aggressive shield would? Yes. And avoidance is all Hazelon's calling card. "I feel like I never left." Soft, then he reaches out to turn his egg sitting by the warmth and stands up abruptly.

Rayathess finds little comfort in Hazelon's words and, again, he has to bite his tongue to keep from tearing into the young teen. In the heat of the moment, back when he came to realize he had no choice but to act, Rayathess naively thought that this would be the best alternative for the holdless. They'd be free! And in a sense, that is what they attained… if they were innocent. He never thought it through what it would do to the youth and the children who's parents hands were far from clean. He feels partly responsible for condemning them to that fate, of losing their family and having to pick up the pieces of their lives. Most did. Those that he's been keeping an eye on. Others didn't and some, like Hazelon, slipped through the cracks. Until now. Part of him is asking, 'why bother?' What does Rayathess owe him? Nothing. Everything! "Then why all this anger and lashing out?" he mutters in a near grumble, his eyes narrowed as he fixes them on Hazelon, only to have his expression fall again, twisting into a grimace. "You don't have to be…this," he says in a strangely saddened tone and waves his hand dismissively at the kitchen to indicate the odd, random work the youth does. Drudge work. Rayathess will push away from the counter he was leaning on when Hazelon stands abruptly, preparing to move and shadow the teen if he tries to leave. Whatever had chased Rayathess into the kitchens to start is no longer a concern. He'll follow him, if he can!

"The only one angry is you." Which is a lie. Hazelon is plenty angry- just not at the people who Rayathess seems to think he's angry at. Hazelon casts a glance at the doorway, ready to leave except for… He can't leave. Not without drawing attention to the fact that his job is left undone. Not without drawing attention him, and perhaps reminding those around where he had come from. His gaze pulls back to the roots sitting on the cutting board, the knife beside. But does he trust himself to pick up that knife with Rayathess being so close? Pushing so hard when all Hazelon wants is to be left be. "What do you want from me? I'm not doing anything." Which, maybe, is the whole point. Hazelon has hit a holding pattern- one which could easily become the rest of his life.

Rayathess snorts and… looks exactly as Hazelon accuses him of being: angry. Frustratingly angry. It's not hatred that's fuelling his temper, it's frustration and a myriad of other emotions he's not capable of processing (let alone coping with) all at once. His resolve is wearing thin and he knows it won't be much longer until he can't keep himself held in check. Last thing either of them needs is him either reverting back to Setha's persona or having a complete meltdown of a fit in the middle of the kitchens. Guards would be called on both of them before they could even think of escape! So Hazelon may get his wish to be left be soon enough, but not before Rayathess settles whatever it was he wanted to settle to begin with. "I'm not accussing you of anything or trying to corner you!" he mutters, likely keeping an eye on where that knife is and the youth's proximity to it. He's no interest to touch it or even hint moving towards it. "I…" What is it that he wants? "… wanted you to know that you're not as alone as you think. That I felt that the way I treated you in the stables may have been harshly unfair." So he's apologizing? Sort of. "And that I told Ezra about you, partly to warn him but also because he deserved to know. I… didn't do it out of spite or anything of the sort. No one else will know. You'll be left alone to.. this…" Another wave of his hand. "If that's what you want. Or…" And here Rayathess has to pause, gritting his teeth as he continues to debate whether or not it's wise, in his head, to say it. Too late now. "… you and I can talk. Since we've… shared past. You could talk to the others too. Heal. Move on." It's not quite an offer of friendship but something of a neutral ground and one that he's expecting to be entirely rejected.

Hazelon bits his lip, pushing back words of his own when Rayathess denies doing exactly what he is doing- accusing and cornering. Abruptly, he comes to a decision. For the first time in the whole of this conversation Hazelon's dark eyes move up to meet Rayathess, feeling the emotion rolling off him. "Fine, for all the s*it load of good you think it will do." Clearly, he disagrees with the outcome that Rayathess seems to think will come of 'talking.' His gaze breaks away from Rayathess, and his mask slips back in place. "Sir?" Even the pitch is different, slightly higher, as Hazelon calls out to the cook who seemed to be overseeing this portion of the kitchen. "I'm not feelin' well… would it be alright if I was to be sittin down for a bit? Mayhap be comin back to help later?" He plays the part well, one hand laying lightly on his stomach as if that was the source of his ailment, the smallest frown touching his lips as if to underscore his discomfort. "If you be needin' me, I'll be stayin just…" Hazelon lets the sentence go, driving home his willingness to stay. The cook, for his part, just waves Hazelon off. The lie smoothly delivered Hazelon slips a look at Rayathess, then moves away from his cutting board, knife, and work out and away from the bustle of people.

Apparently Rayathess is a confusing enigma and may not even know it! He's been pretty oblivious to his faults before. He scowls now at Hazelon, only to shift into a blank stare when he realizes what the young teen is doing. "I didn't mean…" he beings to protest. Now? It's too late. Hazelon is putting on a good performance and rather than call him out, Rayathess plays along and his awkward fumbling could be taken as awkward concern or some similar reaction. None of the workers seem to question WHY he is there or why he follows Hazelon out, once the teen begins to move. Where are they going? He seems to allow the teen to lead at first and then promptly takes over. "This way." he mutters, motioning for them to go into the lower tunnels leading deeper into the Weyr. Where few people venture and there are tucked away places where two people can talk who do not want to be easily discovered and not entirely hidden. "You didn't have to do that, you know." he adds stiffly, his steps just as rigid. "If you had work to do." Too late now! Done is done.

Maybe Hazelon isn't as satisfied with his lot in life has he pretends. Perhaps he craves some of the drama of what use to be, the action… and since Rayathess has made it completely clear he isn't about to let this go, Hazelon shoves off his passive facade and stalks after Rayathess. A full scowl lights upon his face. "What do you want to talk about?" Now, away from prying ears, he allows the full scorn of said 'talking' fall upon that one word as he spits it out.

Rayathess snorts. So this is how they'll play? Fine. A quick darted glance down the tunnel he's turned into and then he's abruptly stopping and turning to face Hazelon with a scowl of his own. He does not, however, get right into the teen's personal space, sticking to a respectful distance though he stands to his full height, shoulders square and tensed, hands visible at his sides though clenched into loose fists. "Anything. Everything." he says unhelpfully and with a smirk to show Hazelon that he means to do it on purpose. Dig a little further under his skin. "Mostly why you have chosen to "hide" yourself and do… whatever it is you do here in the Weyr. What happened, Hazelon? After the trials? Why didn't you stick with the other youths?" Never mind that Laurali and her band got into so much mischief!

The digging is working, and there are not witnesses, so Hazelon allows his irritation to show, and steps forward just a half pace, though that accentuates the difference in their heights so he doesn't continue the movement beyond that. "It's none of your sharding business, but you're not going to let this go are you?" His arms cross his chest, tightening around one another. "Because I'm not a f*king idiot. I didn't want to be identified as someone from the caps. I wanted it just to be over."

"No, it's not my sharding business and yet it IS." Rayathess snaps back in a voice gone flat and hard. He bristles when Hazelon swears and sheds more of his masks, allowing that irritation to show and mirrored now by him. "We weren't ALL bad people, Hazelon! Folk know this and most of all to the children." As for it being over, he only exhales and grimaces. He wished the same once. Still does! Because even now those ripples continue to spread from Laris' influence. "Well. It is over. So why hide? I get it that you want to keep most folks from knowing. You're damn lucky you CAN!" Rayathess never got that luxury. He came to the Weyr, branded a traitor and had to struggle to shed that misconception. Maybe that's why he is so bound and determined to get to Hazelon, so that the youth doesn't become like he did — or almost did. Bitter, angry, self loathing… Or is it too late?

Hazelon shakes his head, as if denying everything that Rayathess is saying. "Who is to say we're not exactly like them given the chance?" His voice lowers to a bitter hiss as he attempts to clamp down her anger. Gaze snatches away to fix on the floor as the frown replaces the scowl. "I hide because it is the only way to make sure that never happens. I know what I am capible of, and I don't want to be that. So I hide in plain sight. I scrub floors, and muck out stalls. When something dead shows up in the stores I volunteer to clean it up. I'm useful, and eventually I become nothing more than the background. Is that what you wanted?"

Rayathess draws back a bit and his frown settles into a deep and troubled scowl as Hazelon hits upon a truth he himself is unwilling to admit. "We're not like them!" he growls back, his tone firm and stubbornly determined. "We did what we did in the past to survive. It's not the same now." Or is it? He peers at the young teen, studying him carefully as he attempts to absorb what he just shared. "So you're saying you feel… threatened and so you stick to menial work and the shadows to keep out of… trouble." Is he any warmer yet? Rayathess blinks, "Is that what I wanted? For you? I'm not controlling your life," he remarks dryly and with another snort. As if! "But what I wanted for mine? For awhile, yes. I wanted to hide but I was brought here as a traitor. Can't really hide when you've got Guards as your shadow." he mutters low and smirks.

"You don't know that." Hazelon draws some of his composure back into himself. The frown does not at all move though, nor does the tensing of his shoulders ease even one iota. "My parents were right in the middle of…" he allows it to drop, grinding his teeth in the pause. "and if it hadn't stopped I would have fallen in. I can hide. And maybe I won't ever become that." Even as the words leave his lips he is sure that Rayathess could never understand and his arms relax, reaching upwards to brush fingers through his hair.

Rayathess's smirk widens and twists. "I've seen enough proof to say that, yes, I do know it!" And he's not talking of himself. His head cocks a bit to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. "In the middle of what? The camps?" He seems confused. What's so bad about that? Given that just about any of the youths from the camps have the same history. His expression falls a bit, "Perhaps. But you don't know that for sure…? You did what you had to to survive. But is it what YOU wanted? If you had the choice?" he mutters and then shakes his head. No, he doesn't understand and it bugs him that he isn't grasping this at all.

"It doesn't matter what I want. What part of that do you not get?" Hands uncurl and Hazelon spreads his arms wide abruptly. "All taht matters is what you do, and I've done things I don't want to do again. So I'll stay away from anything that might make it happen that way."
"It's you who isn't getting the point!" Rayathess snaps in a voice that is barely above a hissed whisper. "Past is past and you don't have to let it control who you are!" His hands have uncurled as well, but they gesture animatedly as his frustrations rise again and so does his anger. He doesn't understand why Hazelon has chosen this path for himself, when so many of the other youths have gone on to better things and better lives. He feels guilty for it without even knowing why and he seems incapable of breaking through with the young teen. He hates feeling incapable of doing something. "So this is what you want, then? A simple life of menial work and nothing more?" he mutters.

"I don't know what I want, okay?" He takes a deep breath as the reality lays itself out. "I only know what I don't want. And I don't want to be that. Why can't you get that and just leave me alone? I'm doing something useful and I'm not hurting anyone." The bitterness is written deeply into his words, as frustration also twines in. His eyes are now glued to the ground before him, shame crawling into his heart. It had been good enough for the last three turns, why did it suddenly have to be not? The fact that he has wondered these questions himself, why he allowed himself to sink so low on the rung when others from the camps had risen upwards.

Rayathess can be pretty thick headed at times, especially when blinded by his emotions or when too stressed to think rationally. Now would be one of those times, but he finally has one piece of the puzzle that he grasps and something clicks. His shoulders sag a bit and he holds his hands up in a sort of warding gesture. He's… backing off. Grudgingly. "I'm trying to understand," he explains as his hands lower again to his side. It's true. The young teen hadn't been hurting anyone. So why is Rayathess insistent on hounding him? Just when things couldn't get any more awkward and strange, things suddenly take a completely different turn when he flat out… apologizes. "… I'm sorry." Sort of. "For pushing at you. It's just… I thought…" He can't finish that line of thought and ends it only with a half muttered curse of frustration. "Just forget it. Listen. I won't harass you… if being left alone is what you want. Truly."

The apology does catch Hazelon off guard, and the look he levels at Rayathess is underlined with disbelief. After hounding so hard, he's just going to give up and let it go? That was it? He'd let him go? But that just isn't in Hazelon's experience and he isn't about to believe it now. "You'll do what ever the hell you do. Are you going to freak out if I talk to Ezra again?" He throws down the challenge, watching for Rayathess' reaction. That would tell everything.

Rayathess has no reason to keep hounding at Hazelon. Not when the youth has been giving him no reason to and perhaps it was never his intention to begin with. It just happened and now he's trying to backtrack (too late). Of course, it's NEVER so easy. He snorts, "Of course I'll do whatever I damn well want to." he replies dryly and with a twisted smirk. One that falters as Hazelon throws down that challenge. Rayathess' reaction is to tense again, his hackles up as instinctively his fears rear up and then with a heavy exhale, there pushed down and controlled. No. No more fear. "I don't care if you chose to speak to my brother or not." he mutters. He doesn't like the idea of it, but there's not much he can do. It's not his choice. "But will you continue to be so hostile to me if I happen to be with my brother and we happen to cross paths?"

"That's what I thought." Hazelon mutters, and turns away from Rayathess. It occurs to him, after he has turned that he has just presented his backside to an utter unknown. But maybe Rayathess isn't about to give up what he has here? Either way, Hazelon's back is already turned and he's walking away, not articulating a further explination for that last statement. Just one last parting shot, "You were in the camps. We reacted to what was dished out to us. I've never done or said anything to your brother that might be hostile."

Rayathess can only stare at Hazelon for a few seconds when the young teen turns his back on him and begins to walk away and then his jaw clenches, his frustrations at their limits as well as his patience. What'd he say wrong THIS time? Part of him wants to give chase, grab Hazelon and likely pin him to the wall and demand he explain. But he doesn't. He just takes a few steps, enough to catch up so he can fire back a low spoken retort. "It's not so much my brother I'm worried about now!" So is the danger to himself, or to Hazelon or both of them? He doesn't elaborate, but he does push forwards to stalk right past Hazelon, offering him dark look as he does and he storms his way back up those tunnels. He'll leave the young teen to go about the rest of his night and it's hard to say where Rayathess is going. Back to the Hall? Or is he trapped for the night in the Weyr on Harper business and alone, left with no choice but to prowl about to sort out his muddled head and thoughts?