Logs:An Unintended Gift
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| RL Date: 27 December, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, N'rov, Taeliyth, Vhaeryth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dahlia thanks N'rov for bringing her joy in the form of D'vro's transfer. |
| Where: Council Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: D'vro/Mentions, Olivya/Mentions, R'jare/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| Ostensibly N'rov's in a meeting: meeting, that is, in the cool comfort of the council chambers instead of the heat of the sands, a meeting that's replete with cold beer and crispy sausages and already-peeled citrus, informal as a man likes to be when conferring with his riders who've just brought their charges home from Conclave. Said man's listening, taking notes even, but it's interspersed between low, relieved laughter at an old acting wingleader's commentary. At least there's going to be some stability, for now. Taeliyth warns Vhaeryth (whether he chooses to warn N'rov or not), « She's coming to hug him. » Of course, her warning happens moments before Dahlia, dressed in a very pretty sundress possibly because some of those reporting to the weyrleader are shortly after finding themselves being chatted up by the pretty brunette with the big knot, bursts into the room, smile fit to burst her face. She beelines for the Weyrleader and yes, tries to hug him, tight, brief, before stepping back to say breezily, "I'll wait," carry on! And she steps on back to a seat. « 'Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds,' » Vhaeryth tells her in return, and N'rov gets only enough warning that he mostly doesn't spill his drink, just enough warning that he's turning towards her as though in slow motion before the cataclysm hits. Then he's brushing at the neck of his shirt, eyeing her to make certain she's not headed for another go, and then just laughing low. "All right, people." Back to work. At least it won't be long before they're snickering their way out and he's turning to the young goldrider, brows up and quizzical. « Some dragons would like to think so, » comes back tart to Vhaeryth. She doesn't remember how much of his deeds he determined, but she remembers perfectly well that his deed of catching Zaisavyth made her Queen and she still hasn't forgiven him. Dahlia is so good after that one unprofessional outburst of affection. She sits on a chair off to one side where she won't be in the way until they've finished, and she barely bounces... more than ten times. Only once the snickering few have gone does she practically leap to her feet and make a second approach (there's another hug coming). "N'rov!" is practically squealed in girlish pleasure. "I can't believe you got Dav!" He gives her metal-backed glass, and in each mirrored facet, her rider bouncing. Dahlia doesn't really have a ponytail, but that doesn't stop Vhaeryth from adding them to swing cutely back and forth. (At least he didn't choose whiskers.) "Hey now," N'rov says, reaching for her shoulders to fend her off or possibly do a little dance. "'Dav'?" In his own voice he realizes, "Dav. Got you. Thought you didn't know those Southern riders?" Ass. The feeling say it all, flippantly, dismissively. « Besides, this is good. She feels joy. » And that is something special these days, something that Taeliyth cherishes. A rare moment. « Don't let him take this from her, » she threatens insomuch as she ever really threatens Vhaeryth. How N'rov would when Dahlia is beaming at him so relentlessly, even with her hug attempt being averted (at least inasmuch as bodily contact goes, her hands still find his sides at the ribs (a polite, non-intimate hug the placement of hands suggests, inasmuch as hugs are ever 'polite' from Dee). "I don't!" She declares, still just about glowing in her joy. "But I know Dav. He diapered me when I was a baby, for Faranth's sake. How did you get him to come?" she demands, smile still so wide. « Why would he? » toys with speculation even as Vhaeryth shuts the probability down. Only then... then N'rov's got to smirk, polite-for-Dee hands or no polite-for-Dee hands. "Diapered you. For real?" That smirk's now a full-fledged grin. "All I did was ask him." « Who can say why males do what they do? » Taeliyth pretends to refuse to speculate, giving Vhaeryth a dollop of innocence to go along with that remark. "Yeah!" For real! "He's my mom's best-friend. They've been that way forever. Impressed together and everything," and she's just so excited it all comes out in a tumble of tale-telling. At least she lets go of him, even if she's got that great big smile still. "When is he coming? I saw his name on the weyr prep roster and came straight here." Because clearly this is pressing. « 'How,' » Vhaeryth drawls, « 'can you have a beautiful ending without making a beautiful mess.' » His rider moves to pat Dahlia's shoulder, carefully, encouraging her to balance on the table or the chair or something else with a minimum of four legs. "Now, that's a coincidence. Any good stories? Last I heard, he and R'jare had a detail or two to go, but he should be here any time. It might even be," N'rov grins, "today." « If you don't know that, I can't help you, » Taeliyth pities him, really (not really). Him and all his 'beautiful mistakes.' She might roll her eyes, but he'll never know. Dahlia chooses to lean back against the table edge, just not with her full weight because there's a little more bouncing that has to happen as she listens, and then squeals. Only once she's back to grinning does she answer, "Tons. If you're lucky, maybe I'll even tell you," loftily, a look that can only be teasing. "You robbed R'jare blind and he doesn't even realize it. Or if he does, then we're going to owe him big," she backtracks and rethinks and then tacks on: "Let's hope he doesn't." It's not like Fort owing anywhere right now would be especially good. « Taeliyth. » Taeliyth, admitting she can't do something. Vhaeryth may not say as much in so many words, but it's right there in his rolling, amused rumble. Until... abruptly, it stops from some unseen cause and... that's not real pity, there? Surely not. He says no more, though, while his rider's indulgent in his own way after an exaggerated wince (squealing!). "I'll have to be lucky, then. That's me, Lord of Thieves. Unless it's not so much that I robbed him," R'jare, "as that he'll," D'vro will, "be better here. You know, like one of your plants growing in better... fertilizer." Taeliyth wants nothing to do with the pity that might not even be real. « I have work to do, » is terse departure. Perhaps some dragons should've been more concerned with not ruining Taeliyth's mood more than her rider's. "Fortuneteller, Lord of Thieves," Dahlia lists, "keep going at this rate and you'll accrue more titles than I care to remember," except on those occasions when it suits her to remember. Still, she's grinning so Taeliyth's upset must not have gotten to her rider. "Well, good for us. Good for me. And thank you. Even if you didn't know you were doing it." She pushes off the table. "I should probably go before there are rumors circulating about us." Not that most people aren't used to Dahlia's peculiarities of hugging by this point. Vhaeryth doesn't move to stop her; Vhaeryth watches her go. Until he doesn't. N'rov eyes Dahlia and her going with more amusement, and an easy shrug that doesn't dispute those titles (or is it her memory?) in the least; rather, "You're quite welcome," he says grandly, only that makes the grimace following her final words that much more egregious. "Yeah, enough rumors about Olivya. You hear any of those, smack them down, all right?" Dee gives N'rov a funny look, his words stopping her before she's gotten more than a few steps. She twists halfway back toward him to give him that look. Maybe she believes the rumors! But no, when she opens her mouth, it's to say, "Of course," in a tone that suggests he's a little silly to think he needed to ask. With a brief, almost playful, flash of smile, the goldrider takes her leave. No more rumors today! |
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