Logs:A Scolding with Hugs
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| RL Date: 15 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Kaelige |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Kaelige scolds Dee. Dee gets more than one hug. |
| Where: Candidate Barracks and Quiet Workroom, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Eadgyd/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Paislie/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Slightly back-dated! |
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| He wouldn't hunt her down. Not this time. Not for this issue. He needed to be the one to pick the location for what he has to say to her. And for that reason he would wait for her return to the barracks with a sense of remarkable patience and stillness. The hour is late, winding down to when the candidates collect in their quarters already fed, bathed, and exhausted from a day of chores or teen drama or both. And although Kaelige himself is known for not sticking around at night, tonight he is in the barracks. Just.... not where one might expect him to be. His cot is empty, of course, not a surprising sight when Rukbat sets. Rather, Kael is seated on Dee's bed in that posture that's becoming typical of his 'deep in thought' pose. Sitting on the side, boots planted on the floor beside it, and forearms rested on thighs with hands clasped between. His head is down, hooded as can be expected to be able to show nothing of what his expression claims. However, the fact that his clasped hands have white knuckles with how tightly they're held demonstrates tension is a hallmark of whatever subject is on his mind. Dee is usually one of the earliest abed, as regular bedtimes go, but not tonight. When Dee comes into the barracks, her coveralls bear all the markings of one hard at work, dirt and dust encrusting them, her work boots, and more lightly her hands. Having been so long a candidate with Kaelige, perhaps he'll have come to observe that hard physical labor is how the FarmCrafter deals with mental unease. She's not expecting to see him on her cot, that much made clear by the sudden stop when she's still beyond the range of speech, but just barely into the range of sight in the dimmed barracks. She visibly hesitates only a moment before continuing forward, though she angles to the end of her cot where she can drop wearily onto her knees and open her press. "Hi," is almost resigned, but there's something in her voice that might be taken as warmth, as a sign that she's glad to see him, for all the foreboding method of approach. As soon as Dee approaches, and perhaps even before her resigned greeting, Kaelige stands up. There's nothing warm about him; cold, really, unreadable as he cants his head to the side briefly as if in indication that he wants her to follow him. That he won't even give her a verbal acknowledgement until she does. If he notices her dirtiness, it either doesn't matter or doesn't surprise him given what he's come to know of her nature. But he seems to realize, a little late maybe, just how unwelcoming he's being. While one would expect him not to care, Kael pauses in place to raise a hand slowly, drawing back his hood to reveal his face- a gesture he's done for her once before. Still wordlessly, he drops that hand towards her with only a brief glance over his shoulder accompanying it, opened in indication for her to take hold of it either to help her back up, or lead her with it. Dee pauses in the process of pulling her loose but not baggy nightwear from the press to look up at Kaelige as he pulls back his hood. Her eyes drop to his hand. After tucking the clothes and a hairbrush under the opposite arm, she reaches to take his hand as she rises, leaving it trustingly there to be led where he chooses.
This smaller cavern, though still of a decent size, is home to the more intricate and delicate work of Crafters. Finishing touches and detail-work are known to be the staple of this workroom, with its open spaces and ample glows. Upon each table sit scrap hide, pens, charcoal and ink, ready to serve purposes from copying to marking material, the chairs high-backed and designed for comfort and support. A collection of old, but comfortable armchairs are arranged in each corner, often the chosen spot of knitting and stitching Weavers or studying apprentices from across all Crafts. Fittings happen here as well as the requesting and completing of commissions not exchanged in private.
Her lower lip is between her teeth, being worried when he turns to face her, despite the streak of dirt along her jaw that trails to that very lip. Dee's wide hazel eyes lift to meet his. She's been docile in her trusting of the hooded boy who doesn't mark the value of a single life, drawn where he wants her without any sign of protest. She lets him start, but once he has it seems that the girl does seem to know why she's here, or thinks she does anyway, enough to answer, "I know," with the same deep apology that colors the actual, "I'm sorry, Kael." He hasn't had to say more than her name, and already she looks chided. "It was reckless and stupid-" But. There's an unspoken but. Something that is probably a redeeming reason in her mind. She doesn't say it though. Instead she looks up at him, inadvertently through her lashes, waiting for him to say whatever it is he wanted to or needed to say. She's still, save for the singular fidget that shifts her clothes under her arm so as not to drop them onto the floor. Kaelige studies her from her lips to her eyes as she offers the apology that is, like all apologies, an effort that is too late. That is the nature of such things as they follow after something that cannot be undone. "You gave me a job." As if he is not a friend, not doing anyone a favor. No, nothing but a hired hand. "I gave you terms." His weighted sentences are punctuated more by their shortness, their bluntness than any fluctuation in tone. "You gave me promises." He sighs, the anger evident just beneath the surface, boiling yet not erupting, "I don't believe anyone when they promise me something. It's just words. Words are easily forgotten. But I thought you'd at least consider the safety of the people around you. I bet on that at least to make this even remotely possible. Martyr yourself back to Southern, fine," there's almost, almost enough of a hesitation with that to suggest it might not be really fine, "but to condemn the candidates volunteering to help you with you?" He stops as he realizes he's let himself ramble on in his frustration, closing his eyes for a moment, setting his jaw. "Dee, if you keep increasing the risk, I will not help you." As if she hadn't already made it bad enough. "I made you promises and I didn't break them," Dee's protest is a bit of a squeak and her unconscious move is to rock her weight forward onto her toes, bringing her a little taller and a little closer in her momentary desperation to explain. "You don't know the plans," for sure, "more than you did already. I didn't tell anyone about your involvement, and-" perhaps the most important point, "most of the candidates in the barracks already know." This last has her cutting off abruptly because certainly this revelation is not going to be a pleasant one. "I know I'm doing it all wrong, but I don't know how to do it right. I'm doing the best I can," which is clearly not really good enough. It's her turn to look briefly lost, worried and wearied. "Who can do it better? I'll get them. I'll do what they say." She just doesn't know who that might be. Outrage comes in the form of a prolonged silence; that sort of thing that screams danger yet has no substance to point a finger at. Greenblue eyes stare into hers, intense, unforgiving. But there's something else to Kaelige, a frustration that isn't as easily described as simple anger. "I know more than I wanted to know. I tried to leave you to cause as much damage as you had to, and you brought it to me." His voice is remarkably controlled for how tense his shoulders are. His hand that had been holding hers to bring her here has since released that control for sake of pressing his palm into the wall behind her. Her choice of wording seems to draw a second long silence before he speaks slowly, as if trying drain his temper away from her. And when he speaks again, his voice is markedly calmer, "I don't expect you to understand how to do bad things, but at least try to listen to what I say. Doesn't it make sense that the less people involved means less chance that you'll get caught? And the less people I'll have to-" He stops abruptly, finally breaking his stare to look to the side across the workroom. Dee leans into the wall now, letting the arm that had hugged her clothes and hairbrush to the ground go lax, the bundle hitting the floor with a dull thump. Her eyes don't leave his, but as he speaks, hers become unmistakably sad. One of her hands lifts instinctively, but something causes it to stop before it actually lifts to his face. It hovers awkwardly between them, unsure of what to do with it now it's come this far. Instead of finding his face, it diverts to her own lips, fingernails finding her teeth behind them. The hand drops away again in the next moment, "I'm listening," comes then, and slowly with deliberate effort to do just that. The sadness he finds when he finally looks back at her is something he should have, but didn't, expect. Something that shouldn't, but does, affect him. Kaelige just stares at her wordlessly, the hardness of his face failing to stay that way. The hand above her on the wall lifts only to strike at the stone once, the dull sound hard enough that one could only assume did not feel very good. "Damnit, Dee.." Is an exclamation that immediately follows the strike beside her. He takes a sharp breath after, cut off from being a labored sigh by Dee's concern- "Kael!" is concerned, quiet exhale of his own name even as Dee twists against the wall, bringing one side of her frame into unintentional contact with his, as she's trying to reach up to the hand that struck, with both of her own hands, to draw it down, to look at it in what light there might be to see if there's mark to go with the harsh sound of the strike. As she twists to to take his hand, she'll not find it so easily captured. Kaelige's arms wrap around her in a hug, provided she makes no determined effort to deny him. The hand she meant to take, sore and reddened from the punch to the wallis ignored for now. He'd look down at her if she'd stay there, a pained look which could be well interpreted to be in light of his hand can be found in those expressive eyes to replace the dangerous glint to them from before. "It's fine." Whether he means his hand or the situation, he doesn't elaborate on that part. "I don't understand how your mind works," Is said both truthfully and with the attempt of a smirk to add humor to it that utterly fails at being believable, "So help me understand why.. how you care. How you can trust so blindly and think everything will be okay.." Dee has ingrained reactions to hugs: to accept. So the tension of surprise lasts only a moment. Certainly, she doesn't expect the gesture from the taller boy. It's a little awkward to shift her arms around him, just because of what she was aiming to do when the embrace came to be. She looks up at him and surely must read the pain there. She's silent some moments thinking about his words, "Have you ever stopped to think that I might not trust blindly?" It certainly seems like she does. "People are good, Kael," there's quiet resolve there. "Everyone deserves a chance." Even he, though she doesn't specifically say so. "Everything will be okay, in the end. If it isn't, it's just because it's not the end," she supposes with a little shrug of her shoulders. "Are you going to tell me why you can't trust anyone?" She doesn't really expect an answer, but if ever there was a moment to try... Here they are. "If you thought about who you trusted, the entire candidate class wouldn't know what you were planning to do for Lux's Ledge." Kaelige reminds, even if exaggerating quite a bit. The initial pressure of the embrace relaxes, and despite the suggestion it would mean from any other standpoint, his expression betrays no softness, no real kindness. "And you wouldn't trust me." He adds after such a pause it seems like an afterthought, but perhaps is the point he intended to make from the start. It's with that statement that he lets the gesture go, releasing Dee and taking a small step back from her. His narrowed gaze leaves her too, angled down and away as if unable to look at her again. Irritation is there again in his expression and tone, but perhaps not this time entirely because of her. There are many replies for what she says, many arguments for him to give. But he decides on giving to none except the last, "I've not met the people you have." Assumably, all those 'good' ones is what he means, and is implied to be the answer as to why he has no trust. The way Dee's eyes dart down is the only confession of how possibly true Kaelige's first words are. The next has her eyes coming back up, expression puzzled. Now, when he looks away from her, her hand seeks to get what it may have wanted before, rising and seeking to place warm, rough (dirty) hand lightly on his cheek. She's almost definitely about to ask when, "Oh," the sound of mild surprise and a bite of her lip, her hand already dropping away as she begins to laugh. It's not the least bit appropriate, but her laughter can't be in answer to what he's said, it's too warm and bright to be mistaken for any kind of derisive. She has to lean more of her weight into the wall because her knees must be weak and that hand that seeks some part of him to steady herself - an arm, a hand, even his side will do. Somewhere, in the midst of the laughter she manage to gasp, "I'm sorry," and "The dirt," the dirt on her hand, on her coveralls, on her face. That dirt, which is evidently funny, which he most likely now shares in a number of places. Kaelige's thoughts are somewhere else, perhaps having almost given up on the subject. Perhaps with the mind to leave given the mistake he'd made. Mistakes, plural. Such a different boy he is, with her. Too open. It unbalanced him. His eyes close when she touches his cheek, but it's short lived given the abrupt laughter. Laughter at him? It didn't match this conversation meant to scold her, nor his thoughts. And if she didn't so very suddenly seem weak, he'd have backed away from that sudden brightness and warmth. Reflexively, he gives the arm she seeks, wrapped around her side for her to hold or lean against, whichever. His bluegreen eyes are lost of their seriousness, though a searching confusion may be more prominent than his long-since characteristic cockiness. Her gasped explanation leads him to draw a hand to his face to where she'd touched, gloved fingers leaving smudged with dirt. The smirk that had faltered before finds its way just fine on that expression of his this time, drawing across his face, lining it in a way that makes his eyes that much more expressive, that much more hidden- not lost- of that severe boy underneath. "This your new plan over hoods?" Comes a humored tone, "Just smear everyone in dirt. Nobody will even want to look at us." The fact he includes himself, and so fluidly, may surprise even him. His humor makes her laugh anew, though only briefly. The smile she directs at him doesn't mean to be disarming, but it very well may prove to be so with its uncensored delight. Dee's, "Might be," is playfully flippant and laced with good humor. "At least it would throw the suspicion where it belongs, on the girl that plays with dirt." It's probably meant to be funny, but even so it has her sighing and then leaning, heedless of the dirt to let her forehead come to rest on his shoulder, both hands finding his sides just above his hips. It's a familiar (if not to him) gesture of being overwhelmed and seeking that steadiness he offered when she needed it before. "I think I must be crazy." She admits with a slight shake of her head that can be felt more than seen against his shoulder. "I wish someone who knew how to do this could do it. I'm no good at leading or knowing what to do, just knowing things need to be done." And recruiting, evidently. He can't deny her. Why, he isn't even sure. The leaning she does makes his breath catch, which eventually releases in a sigh. His arms wrap around her, one of her waist, the other gloved hand- and the same one now smudged brown with dirt- behind her head as she places it on his shoulder. "That's not what I meant." Though serious, Kaelige speaks with more of that playful mocking, if even quieter now given this change of distance. This is new, this... all of this. Dee's unintentionally stripped him of armor and weapons alike, disarming indeed though not just with her laughter. His jaw clenches briefly, his gaze staring upwards at the dark ceiling as if entertaining the last of what might be his better judgement. "You are crazy." His quick response is too easy, one of those sarcastic kinds that deserve a punch more than anything, "But there may be someone." A pause, his chin resting against her head if she'd allow as he speaks, "I can't." He reminds, though in a brief moment of stupidity he might even think he should. "I know she can be a bit.. tough to talk to at times, but did you consider Eadgyd? She implied she had some sort of knowledge," A clear indication he was listening even if he had visually attempted not to, "You're good at persuasion." He goads lightly. "I was afraid of that," comes with a sigh, but it could be a response to more than one part of what he says. Reluctantly, Dee lifts her head, straightening, though no longer touching the wall, if still close, and her hands still on his sides. "All we ever do is fight." There's already resignation in her tone, but also a still-fading pestilence that wants to just dismiss the idea of "Eadgyd and me." She chews her lower lip a moment. "I don't even know why. Every time just ends up a fight." Still, closing her eyes a steeling moment, she nods. "I'll try. Faranth knows I need someone." She doesn't add 'since he can't,' but that may be an unconscious extension of her natural persuasion. Kaelige doesn't restrain her movements, loosening his hold as she pulls back enough to look at him. "Just hug her like that and I don't think she could even come up with an argument." While that may be from experience, it sways it more as indication of their current situation. His face is relaxed, amused as it had always been until recent times, as he looks down to meet her eyes. "She's guarded and lashes out to protect herself. She doesn't have the trust in people you do." Is explained with calm patience, a desiring patience could be considered almost comfortable in the moment. It's when he adds, "She'll agree." that one could be reminded that he's not so gentle, the decisiveness of it denoting either that much confidence in their fellow candidate or that he will ensure she will. "You hugged me," Dee lightly emphasizes with a light tease of her own. "She doesn't do touching," the sigh is of one much tested by the circumstances, "Like Paislie and everyone else. Like you," only she has to look at him thoughtfully now. "I like it better this way," she leans in to hug him one more time, as if this might be the only encounter in which such gestures are permitted, but she keeps this one quick, and when she draws back it's to let her hands drop away too, evidently having prepared herself for those distancing walls to come back up between them, if that's what he wants. "Maybe I'll just kiss her," delivered offhandedly, "and lay out the whole, terrible plan while she's still too stunned to speak. Is she weyrbed?" If so, that might not work. "I don't know where she came from before she came for the clutch that didn't happen when Eliyaveith was young." Her correction earns a quiet chuckle, neither confirmed nor denied. Kaelige is quiet until she lets her hands fall and draws away, and he mirrors her so that she's not quite so trapped against the workroom's wall. "I don't know much about her." He starts, drawing his arms up to fold them across his chest. Her expectations aren't far off, the wall in place as if it'd never fallen. "I doubt she's weyrbred given the reactions I've gotten from her." The suggestive smirk that broadens what he's already showing implies he's attempted, or did, push some of those sensitive buttons before. "I support that plan." Likely the first time he's said that in particular to Dee. "Can I watch?" "No," Dee's hands draw up to give Kaelige a light, playful sort of shove. "Kissing is personal." Beat. "Unless it's a flight." Beat. "Or unless a dragon betweens without finding lifemate." Her cheeks touch just slightly with a blush as each thoughtful exemption is made. Only then she throws up her hands to sigh. "Fine, it's not that personal," even if she wanted to pretend to herself that it was. "You can watch if I actually do it, which I hope won't be necessary." In the newfound little bit more of space, she sinks into a crouch to collect her clothes and hairbrush. "I'm going to get cleaned up. Want to come?" It's an offhanded invitation, almost like their friends. Friends who bathe together? Kaelige takes a step back at the shove, overdramatizing the strength of her gesture, but recovers rather rapidly at her caveats to her initial statement. "What?" Follows immediately after the last about the green hatchling, curiosity shortening but not fully fading his smirked grin. "Well, I'll be nearby for support." That kind of support of a male watching two girls creepily from a corner hoping they'll kiss? There is a very clear verbal and physical pause at that offer. A moment that could have been a hell yes but gets shut down by something unfortunately more pressing. "I have to go." He says slowly, a reluctance present as his gaze leaves her to look towards the doorway as if expecting someone to show up at that moment. "It's already late." A hand searches briefly behind his neck only to pull his hood up and over his head, shielding his eyes almost completely. "Let me know and I'll be there." Assumably for help with Eadgyd, though he could mean so much more. "Okay," is simple and lacking in any obvious wistfulness for a different answer; it also carries no more elaboration for his imagination. "You'll keep me company, won't you," is said once Kaelige's hood is up, but it's not to the boy, but rather to the green that popped from between some distance behind, identified in the room by the whirl of eyes - the orangey whirl of hunger. "We'll get you something along the way," is added with a tender and fond sort of smile as the firelizard glides to land upon Dee's proffered arm, a gesture natural in its long familiarity. "Listen for me," is for Kaelige. "If she tries to strangle me for asking..." she'll need to be rescued. That much is probably obvious, though it's also probably a joke given the flash of a smile, brighter than that which she gave her companion when she arrived. The question that's sent beyond him in a room that should be empty turns his shadowed gaze rather quickly behind him. The sight of that green, while particularly unexpected, gets no obvious reaction from him. Not one that can be seen anyway, but now that he's hooded again, it's hard to tell. However, he does watch the little creature for a few extra moments that may seem longer than one might expect, since he doesn't pursue any questions about her. "I'm never far." Is a comment that is rather eerie the way it's stated. And "She won't." is said with a confidence that could imply a couple of meanings. A faint smile is present there, seen beneath his shadows if only because he turns to glance at her one more time before starting for the door. Dee has only a smile in answer for him. As he goes though, she pipes up, distracted from the stroke of the petite green's neck offering offhandedly, "I like the hood. Don't think I ever told you." But that's all. After that compliment(?), the only sound still in the quiet workroom is a tuneful humming. Was she supposed to leave this scolding feeling scolded? Mission failed. (It was probably doomed from the start.) |
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