Logs:Am I Going To Die In Here?
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| RL Date: 2 April, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Some people are strong, stalwart types with infinite optimism in serious situations. Lycinea is not one of them. |
| Where: Trapped Hallway, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| The crafters have been working all night, or at least measuring assessing, appraising, doing their crafterly things. When a weyrwoman approaches, and who doesn't know Irianke by this point, they hop to and try to point things out to her and tell her what progress they're making She, however, waves them off, however nicely, and says, "I'd like to speak to the people within first before discussing any business. Thank you." The goldrider looks tired, but carries a tray of food. "Hello?" she calls in, her voice suddenly hesitant. The goldrider isn't the only one who looks tired. At some point, someone became useful, relocating some of what was sent through, trying to get it far enough in to be useful to the others, perhaps it was even Lycinea herself after her fraught hours alone in darkness. It certainly isn't by design that Lycinea's quavering mezzo is the one that answers, "Irianke?" No title. Her tone is that of one who hardly dares to believe her ears. "Lya?" Relief floods Irianke's voice. She's alive! "Are you well? Do you need anything?" The crafters around her, realizing this is not the place for them to converse now, take a step back and give one of the ranking members of the Weyr her privacy. "Lya. Darling child." There's silence. How to answer. She's trapped in a cave-in. "No," she decides, her voice even more tremulous, the tone raw as though she might just start bawling. She manages not to (barely). A hiccup that swallows a sob later, she adds, "But I'm not the worst. Just... scratches and bruises." And being stuck in a cave in. "I brought breakfast." Strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, some wheat-free rolls made all the better for the copious amounts of butter on them. There are flasks, twisted shut that will be discovered as water, juice, and klah. Cold klah, but klah. "Sweetheart, we have every genius mind available trying to get you out." All of them, but Lya in particular for Irianke. "I'll bring you whatever you need or want." More silence. Perhaps Irianke can see, in her mindseye, the way Lya looks when she's uncertain and bothered, even if on the other side of the rubble it must be magnified tenfold. "Thank you." The two words are fragile but genuine. The reach is made to barely be able to hook fingers onto the edge of the tray and pull it carefully so nothing spills on the uneven journey. It's quiet another moment before the girl says, "Everything tastes like dust," though that's hardly their greatest concern. "Irianke?" Quiet. Scared. "Yes, Lycinea?" This merits her full name. A gently spoken, reassuringly calm and lovingly spoken name. "Am I going to die in here?" Well, shit. "No. No." The second negation is more vehement. "I promise you that." Silence. Then the sound of sob caught in Lya's throat before, "Okay." It's hard to say if she believes the weyrwoman or not. If she believes anyone, it would be Irianke, wouldn't it? "Would you bring me-- us paper and things to write with?" It's awkwardly asked, but then, it is awkward for Irianke's assistant to be asking Irianke to bring her something instead of the other way around. "Yes." Then it's time's up. Irianke has things to do, meetings to be in, and the clearing of a master smith's throat has her looking up sharply to find the woman looking at her apologetically. "Right, of course," is the goldriders immediate answer. "You have work to do and I.. I'm just in your way. Lya, I'll make sure paper and pencils are delivered soon. Sweetheart. Chin up. You'll be out in no time and we'll have a day off together." "Irianke?" The name is desperate this time. Is Lycinea pressed against the other end of that hole that is the only thread of contact to light, to life, to things outside of the intolerable here. "Don't forget me," she begs. A sound catches in Irianke's throat. It's choked and she's most definitely not crying. Nope. Nope! "No, I couldn't. Smile. It'll be fine. I promise. Have I ever reneged on a promise? I promise." Nothing. There's nothing. Not even a sob. |
Comments
Edyis (03:42, 3 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
All the feels. I loved this, loved seeing a side of Lya that wasn't combative and also seeing that Irianke's built a strong connection with someone who she wasn't linked with prior to the transfer.
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