Logs:About You
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| RL Date: 12 June, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Aislara, Elaruth, Ryerith |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aislara shares her news with Hattie, who is both the hypocrite and liar of the turn. |
| Where: Weyrleaders' Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Nala/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
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| Now that Aislara has told Nala, the greenrider feels more prepared to share the news with those she thinks will want to know. Ryerith's ribbons tickle out towards Elaruth as she queries, « Where might we find the Weyrwoman? » The passing of this information gives Aislara time to prepare for speaking with Hattie. She makes herself presentable, that coat of hers she's been wearing the last few sevens still kept at hand to conceal what she doesn't want the populous of the Weyr as a whole to know. A scarf is wrapped around her neck against the winter chill and her hair is swept into a high bun. With the knowledge of Hattie's location in hand, Aislara heads into the Weyrleaders' weyr and calls out, "Hattie?" It's a sleepy kind of response that finds its way towards Ryerith, less words and more merely a sense of place, the lights dim in the Weyrleaders' weyr, though the fires in each chamber burn reasonably high. The Weyrwoman herself isn't immediately visible, though Elaruth is, rider shielded by the curled form of the pale queen in the wallow, and what time has passed has evidently not been given in its entirety for Hattie to be aware of impending company, for she only rises from the wallow and out of Elaruth's warm embrace when she hears her name. The blanket wrapped around her, she lets fall in loose folds, her bare feet poking out from beneath pale pink fabric. "Aislara," she greets, lifting a blanket-wrapped hand to conceal a yawn. "Oh," Aislara stops her forward movement when she notes what appears to be an interruption of a nap. Her feet take two quick steps backwards as she lifts an apologetic hand. "I'm sorry, I'll- I'll come back another time." She stops her back-peddling as she stumbles over the floor (or her nerves) and she glances over her shoulder once she's straightened. "Oh, uh, Ryerith wasn't very clear.." She looks back at Hattie with a blush as she shakes her head. "She can be too vague sometimes.. I'll come back another time." She grabs her coat and pulls it tighter around her. Elaruth only moves to curl a little more securely into the curve of the wallow that she's adopted, and though she momentarily watches her rider, she seems satisfied that nothing untoward is about to unfold, and so she settles back down, head tucked beneath the line of the indentation in the weyr's floor. "It's fine," Hattie assures, waving off concern with that same hand. "I should start the afternoon's hidework, anyway. From the manner in which she wraps her arms around herself, it's quite plain that she doesn't really want to ask, dread settling in the depths of her gaze, but she does anyway, "Is it the weyrlings?" "The weyrlings?" Aislara echos, blinking and unable to keep from her blush deepening. "Oh, no, they're fine. I came for more..," she shuffles her feet and clasps her hands in front of her. "More.. personal reasons." She hesitates, glancing towards Elaruth and then to Hattie. "But like I said.. you're resting. I can come back." She lifts a hand to brush at her hair, smoothing already smooth strands against her head. "I should've planned my visit better than on a whim. I'm sorry." Hattie ignores Aislara's apologies, just as she disregards her attempts to and indications that she intends to leave, and moves from the edge of the wallow and towards the hearth in the outer weyr with nothing but the evident belief that she'll follow her. It's not done with malice, yet it's clear that she's not accepting a word of her excuses. "Do you want tea or klah?" she enquires, just before she reaches the fire. "Or there's something stronger," the Weyrwoman offers, a nod to the whiskey bottle at the edge of her desk that she looks somewhat longingly at, yet disregards a moment later. Aislara follows Hattie as dutifully as the weyrwoman likely thought she would. Her hands return to clutching the jacket as she still needs some form of security or grounding her hands can find either together or otherwise. "Uh, no thank you," she murmurs on the question of tea and klah. She glances towards the whiskey and her blush resurfaces. "I shouldn't have anything stronger, either," she continues, looking nervously back at Hattie. Her jacket is loosened as she wipes her palms on her pants. "I'm, well, so far.. you see..," she can't find the words and she looks at the ground as if it may supply a more eloquent way of saying what she wants to say. "I'm pregnant?" she finishes that last on the upswing of a question, though she amends quickly, "That's confirmed. And.. so, no. Yeah. That's why I came. To tell you." The goldrider pauses as she reaches for one of the mugs on the mantel above the hearth, then turns to look Aislara over for a matter of a whole moment, until she relinquishes any thought of claiming the mug and moves for her, to stop only a couple of feet from her and reach for her hands with both of hers, blanket held up by the drag of fabric against fabric. "You're okay?" Hattie asks quietly. "Who--" escapes before she can bite it back, but she still abandons that line of enquiry with a shake of her head. "Do you want to be taken off-duty?" Aislara can't seem to get rid of the redness to her cheeks and neck but her nervousness begins to ebb towards a shaky smile as she takes Hattie's hands. "I'm doing okay," she assures Hattie, "I didn't want to believe right away.. and they think all is going well..," she shakes her head at the question of 'who', smile erased as she supplies, "A flight." And that last has her shrugging and looking away. "I don't know. We're busy.. and the weyrlings need Ryerith and I.. I haven't been doing anything stressful or hard on my body." She shrugs again and looks to Hattie. "I promised Nala I wouldn't.. anyway," she forces that smile forward once more. "I'm really hoping this time is different." Hattie brows dip, yet she chooses not to push at that information, despite the concern that settles into the weary lines of her features. "...When there are two classes of weyrlings... I don't think you should be running around after and with both," she says gently. "If you want to carry on, then I'm not going to pull rank and stop you, but I don't want you thinking that you have to. If this is something that you have to do for yourself, then you should." Her grip on her hands tightens a little, then she lets the point of contact fall away. "If you want anything..." Aislara steps forward when her hands are released with the intention of giving Hattie a hug. "I want this child," she confesses, "and if everyone thinks I should.. I'll talk to Ebeny. I just don't want to burden her. She has a lot going on and I'm needed." She steps back again, hands moving to rest in front of her briefly before she releases them to her side. "How are you?" she asks, shaking her head as she smiles crookedly. "I always rush to you with my news and problems. I want.. I'm here to hear yours, too." It must be unintentional that Hattie stiffens the instant that she realises Aislara is moving closer, and though she lets her nearer, the lift of her arms to encircle the greenrider's shoulders deflects from letting hands or arms anywhere near her waist, even the blanket itself serving as a half-decent barrier. "Then you should do whatever you have to do to keep it," she murmurs to her, in the moment before she draws back. When she moves that half-step back, she gives a shallow shrug and declares, "I don't have any that isn't already everyone else's business," with a low edge of nonchalance. When she turns to head for one of the chairs, she immediately turns the conversation too, or attempts to. "Does the father know?" Aislara doesn't seem to think anything of, or show the appearance of being bothered by, that semi-evaded hug. "I'll talk to Ebeny when I leave here then," she says, moving her hands to fold in front of her once more. Her grip on her fingers tighten at Hattie's question and she evades it for a moment, focusing on Hattie's earlier statement. "I don't pry into gossip much, Hattie. I also don't give it much thought when I do hear it. If I did, I'd be... well. I haven't heard anything bad. People've just been sad about that green." She hesitates and then glances to Hattie once more. "I haven't told him. Nala is very angry with him and I'd rather not have him involved. Not this early." Something in Aislara's phrasing must aggravate or hurt, for Hattie refuses to look at her for a long while, and opts to stare into the fire instead, as she takes a seat and folds her hands in her lap. Whatever it is, she doesn't address it, and nor does she glance back at her until she can present the greenrider with a bland enough expression. "...I'll take heart that you've not believed the stories of the mad Weyrwoman of Fort, then," she utters dryly and almost completely without humour. As for the latter matter, she's blunt, perhaps to the point of offense, when she states, "This isn't about Nala. It needs to be about you. What you want." Aislara simply looks shocked at that dry turn of words, her brows shoot up and she blinks a few times in bewilderment. "How dare any say that," she begins, moving defensively forward and then she pauses. She finds her own seat near that fire and slowly unwinds her scarf to settle in her lap. She plucks at the bit of yarn fraying at the edges. "I did what I wanted," she tells Hattie as she continues to fuss at the scarf rather than look at Hattie. "I had an open flight and I slept with a man," she doesn't conceal the shudder that memory brings, "and I got pregnant. The how.. the how may have been wrong. But I'm hoping it doesn't..," she shrugs, pausing to briefly rest a hand on her abdomen in thought. Her eyes drift to the fire and she grows quiet. "I'm very selfish," she murmurs, more to herself, "and probably want more than I should." She looks back to Hattie then, "If anyone in this weyr is mad, it's probably me." Hattie gives a shrug, either too tired to care or simply used to surrendering to and trying to ignore rumours by now. "...It's better this way," she murmurs. "It's nothing, really. They've said much worse before. It doesn't matter, as long as it's not true." Not that she sounds so sure that it isn't, her focus fixed on the flames as a log crackles and splits to catch further alight. "I don't see that you had another choice," the Weyrwoman confesses. "If there was no man you would ask or choose yourself. If it works out how you'd have it, then it'll have been worth it." She tilts her head slightly, yet she still doesn't quite look up. "It's not selfish to want a child if it's everything that you want," she says softly. Aislara looks away from Hattie and towards the fire, unable to hold the weyrwoman's gaze as she sighs. "I hurt people in the attempt. I.., the flight.., anyway. I probably should see someone," she admits, something she has yet to truly say, "for all the fears I've developed with that-," she pauses, shaking her head, "with men." Her smile is bitter-edged as she looks back to Hattie, "But it is not unfounded, is it?" She slouches her shoulders and gives the scarf a few good tugs. "I'm scared to want it too much now that it might happen. Like the wanting of it will make it go." She glances to Hattie then, focusing on her for a moment and then she looks away. "If something was really going on with you, would you tell me?" she asks softly, eyes focused on the flickering flames. "If you think that talking to someone will help, then you should," Hattie agrees easily enough. "Unfortunately... flights aren't going to go away. The man who hurt you might be far away, but... I'm not so sure that he's far away in your head. Understandably." Her lips tug to one side before she considers, "If your preference before was for men... If you're with Nala because she's female and a safer option, then maybe it's something you ought to consider for more than... the fear. You oughtn't settle if there's a way you could be happier." Aislara's softer enquiry, she takes time before she answers, whether truly thinking about it or judging the correct span required to be convincing. "Of course I would," she insists, simple as that. "I'm not with Nala because she's safer or female," Aislara asserts, chagrined by the question enough that she frowns at Hattie though she shakes it away rather than keep it. "I'm with her because she makes me happy. She's strong and smart.. she's one of the most loyal people.. and she'd do anything for me. That's more than anyone else has ever offered me in a romantic way." Her hand shifts to rest on her stomach and then continues on to her thigh as the greenrider changes her mind. "I fear roughness and people who want to control my body for their pleasure.. often it's the men in the flight but there have been some women. I need to.. we should teach ethics in flights differently. People should learn to control themselves." Her frown has returned with a thoughtful dip of her brows. "Something to talk to Ebeny about." She looks up at Hattie then and smiles. "Want to skip hidework? We could go do something.. just the two of us? For fun?" "I'm glad that you're happy with her," Hattie murmurs, slowly and seeming to choose her words carefully. "...But maybe, one day, you might find that you might find someone for you that isn't only more than what anyone else has offered." Maybe she regrets that, maybe she doesn't, but she still doesn't look at Aislara. In that same, slow manner: "I agree with a greater focus on the ethics of things... in theory." Then: "But people should also not be made to feel bad if they make mistakes and truly regret being beyond control. There are instances..." It's not a smile, but her expression shades rueful. "I didn't even make it out of the door, last time Elaruth rose. We didn't even make it to bed." The greenrider's question brings tension back to her frame, her, "...I imagine you can't go Between?" a guarded enquiry. "That isn't what I meant at all," Aislara returns, shaking her head as she lifts her hand to tug at her hair and release it from the tight bun. She finger-combs it briefly and looks away from Hattie and towards the fire. Satisfied with the combing, she gathers her hair back up and pulls it into a messier hairstyle higher on her head. "If their lack of control hurts another they should feel bad," Aislara disagrees, looking back to Hattie. "Maybe not ostracized or punished for it. But they should feel bad and something should be said to the person who had that foisted upon them." She pushes to her feet then, turning to offer Hattie her hand so she might rise with her. "I wasn't thinking of going far. Just a short flight outside of the Weyr. It's too cold to stay out long but..," she shrugs, "there's a good sense of relaxing and freedom when you aren't inside the Weyr and worrying about all you have to worry about. For me, anyway." Hattie must listen to the rest, but the tension doesn't leave her until she hears the part of Aislara's answer that she's looking for, and even then she looks warily towards the ledge, like the outside world holds too many unknowns. "...A-All right," she hesitantly agrees. "I need a minute to change." Without further comment, she moves for the inner weyr and closes the door behind her, and though it doesn't take her all that long to appear again, maybe she's borrowed one of N'muir's jackets when she returns, for it's not in her usual black, and nor does it look to fit her right at all. "Let's go." She makes to catch at Aislara's hand and draw her after her and towards Elaruth and the wallow to deal with straps, if only to lead her and avoid any further talk, for now. Outside is calling, and even if the call is stronger for one of them than the other, she'll answer. |
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