Logs:Are you--?
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| RL Date: 4 August, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, X'vin, Besmernyth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vin checks on Dee the morning after her outburst. |
| Where: Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cloudless skies, warm temperatures, a breeze that picks up now and then: this is the fair summer weather people wait for all Turn. |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Szarit/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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>---< Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr(#675RJLs$) >----------------------------------<
This end of the Bowl is grassy and serene, the sparkling blue beyond the
Lake Shore a draw for residents, riders, and dragons alike. An earthslide
has revealed a dramatic view of the mountain slopes beyond the circle of
the Weyr, past the lake, where a faint misty haze often shimmers above the
small Bowl Falls. The Feeding Grounds are fenced off to on the
northeastern end of the lake, just a short walk from the weyrling
barracks, the hot springs, and infirmary.
Cloudless skies, warm temperatures, a breeze that picks up now and then:
this is the fair summer weather people wait for all Turn. Dee's short hair is disheveled from sleep as she exits the dragon infirmary. Though Rukbat has only just risen, the young woman wears no jacket or blanket over her short sleeved work shirt, rumpled from wear the day before. Her eyes bear the telltale puffiness of a day with tears, but just now as she moves in the direction of the baths, not the barracks, her expression is a mask of mourning. One would thing Szarit was dead and not just sentenced to the mines. Taeliyth follows at a distance, a distinct distance and her path diverges almost immediately, heading toward the weyrling complex rather than continuing on after her lifemate. X'vin can't be the only person who is worried about Fort's youngest goldrider, but he is the only one who is waiting when she comes out the next morning, his arms crossed over his chest and leaning back against his dragon, chin tilted up so he can make eye contact with one of Besmernyth's faceted eyes in their silent conversation. « Taeliyth, » the bronze says when he spots the weyrling pair exiting the infirmary, and X'vin's chin drops to take them in as well. "Dee," X'vin says in a much gentler tone than his dragon, brows dropping down as he straightens, frowning at her, and that distance between them. "Are you-- ?" Where Taeliyth flinches mentally, Dee flinches physically. Keeping her head down probably was meant to avoid any eyes that wanted to catch hers. The sound of her name is significantly more difficult, especially given the way it brings her feet to a stop. Dee's hazel eyes rise to find the wingleader's face as her dragon answers with a brittle edge, « Besmernyth. » Dee's, "Please don't," is substantially less of a greeting. Still, she's stepping toward the bronzerider, her hands coming up to silently plead. "I can't handle that question right now." The "sir" is an afterthought. Funnily enough, Besmernyth listens to Dee's command, but there is the smell of wafting black tea and klah, and a certain gentleness to the bronze as he tips his head down, down, eyes whirling with concern. A fire stokes. « I was worried, » sounds like an honest appraisal, and indeed if she was so inclined the little queen might have sensed him on the edge of her mind from the moment of her encounter with Dee and the weyrhealers. X'vin on the other hand, says, "Then maybe you should go back inside and prepare yourself. I'm not going to be the first who wants to know." The sounds of branches cracking in thaw answers the stoking of the fire. Her mind reaches toward that comfort. « She's angry with me. » It's said simply, but something in the way her attention is on the fire indicates she's not really registering him, only the sensation of gentility. "If they'd let me stay longer, I'd stay," Dee answers with a touch of blush to her cheeks. Her eyes are on the ground again, her hands folding and unfolding in front of her. She rises onto her tiptoes. "I'm not sure how to just be okay." She looks up, a silent inquiry: does he understand? « You've flipped the dichotomy, » the older dragon notes; she needn't notice him right now. It is enough that he can offer even some small comfort, for all he seems to thrill in her discomfort. This is not some lesson he seeks to teach her, and so he simply burns: woodsmoke, warm blankets, the snap of flames when they catch the most brittle of kindling. X'vin considers her, his head canted until he nods his agreement, gentle in his assertion. "It's not easy, but... people come and go Dee. Sometimes they're taken. This isn't your fault." « What? » The comment has her focusing on him anyway. Taeliyth branches and presence shifts back, giving him a touch of that discomfort that he appreciates. She shivers and stops where she is in the bowl to look back at him. « She has reasons to be mad at me, but she shouldn't be mad at me, » the tone is sullen. "It is, actually," Dee answers his words, squaring her shoulders, "Almost entirely. Actually pretty much entirely." Her eyes hold the glisten of tears but they don't fall. She manages a half-revolted smile. "It should have been me." Horrible that it isn't, isn't it? « In our experience, you are the angry one. » With X'vin no longer leaning against him, Besmernyth is better able to settle -- long limbs curled beneath him, paws curled inward, all the better to be closer to Taeliyth's level. « Why? » is she angry, maybe, or why shouldn't she be? Flint's wingleader is understandably more confused by that, and concerned by those tears after hearing how dramatically Dee broke down. He measures his words, cuts them, measures again, closing the distance between them by a few steps as he explains, "I'm of the belief the weyr should be doing more for the Holds than it is. And even so, he was in the wrong." The obvious deduction is, "Lilah's inquisition had to stop. If you told her that he was responsible, even in part, well. He made his choices. There are much better ways of helping people than stealing from the people who trust you." « You know how to make a girl blush, » Taeliyth responds with sass that doesn't quite have its usual zing. « I did what I had to do and she doesn't like it. I'm not sure she's even unconvinced that it was necessary. She's just mad. » Irrational anger is the worst. It's that that is rising to the surface in the face of the Wingleader's words. "I made his choices," is vehement. She did meet with a mindhealer though, so maybe she's just still talking crazy. She turns to stalk away from X'vin but only gets a pair of paces before whirling back to look at the older man. "Do people do things for you? When you ask?" It's a demand, the temper leashed, but only just. Besmernyth is treading suspiciously light. « I only mean that you seem to find it more difficult than most pairs. » Cinnamon spice wafts closer, flanked by his characteristic cold, fractals spreading deliberately across her trees. « I can only imagine your frustration if that's so. Were you making her better? » Speaking of irrational anger, leashed or otherwise. "Excuse me?" could be a response to any of her questions, though X'vin seems to have taken to the latter. "Of course they do. In most cases, they'd better," lacks the threat it maybe should, given that knot, that dragon. "What - " he starts, then there's a moment of clarity and he stops; when he continues it's to finish the thought already on his lips, "does that have to do with anything?" « Is that all you mean? » Taeliyth questions with a distinct lack of belief. She lets the cold and fractals draw out her own chill, frost spreading across branches and curling across limbs so recently thawed. « I was protecting her. » It's deceptively mild. Dee's stare isn't exactly mild as she listens to the man, but neither is it fierce (not even Dee Fierce). "People have always done things when I ask. Not-- always always, but for my whole life. I only ever asked them to do good things, things that would help them, things that would help other people. But I was never afraid to ask. Nothing bad ever happened." And what a way to start bad things happening? She lets the rest hang between them: nothing bad happened until now. « One day you will believe me, » promises Besmernyth in passing, not removing himself. He'll wrap around her cold like some embrace, his focus more on the situation at hand. « If that's true, » is dismissive, and lacks any true question as to her intentions, « she will forgive you. Eventually. » X'vin hears Dee out, though his brows begin knitting together halfway through her explanation. His jaw tightens as it pieces together. "So you convinced him to steal for you? Dee, how is that good?" « Will I? » She's still dubious, but it's not the sort of question that requires an answer, unless he likes letting the hint of challenge to be answered. Taeliyth's bare branches tremble in a sigh, « That doesn't make now any easier. » Dee swallows and rocks a step back. "It isn't. That's rather the point. It turned out to be awful. Not a help. We didn't save anyone. And we didn't even need to save anyone, and we had no idea. None. I'm the biggest sharding idiot since Rukbat rose for the first time." Now there's tears trickling down out of Dee's eyes. "And I'm not even the one paying for it." Even if emotionally that's not quite true. X'vin regards her dispassionately, something slightly stony to his aristocratic features. "Why?" could almost be a question for the emotional goldrider, and yet it doesn't beg an answer. He falls silent as Besmernyth whuffs lowly at the little gold, some odd brand of comfort offered. « You have a lifetime, and you are strong enough, little one, to endure a little pique. » X'vin's handkerchief, truly the hero the weyrlings need, makes an appearance from an inner pocket and is offered out for those tears. His words are softer than his countenance, likely because what follows has teeth of its own. "How did Lilah find out about him? I would have taken you with me." Beat, a short, shrewd silence, then: "He went instead of you. Did you ask for that, too?" Dee's "No!" is visceral rejection of the idea as she takes an unconscious step toward the older man. "I asked to be the one to be blamed. I am to blame. She--" is corrected with a glare toward her dragon, "They said they did it for me. For my future." She spits the bitter words as toss aways (just like she is all their efforts in this moment). The handkerchief is ignored. "I don't want this. I don't want their protection." Doesn't she? Certainly in this moment she doesn't, but she's clearly not thinking things through. Taeliyth, for her part, is tellingly silent. "How disappointing," X'vin murmurs, not exactly clarifying what part of it. And it's not as if his disappointment means anything, anyways. Her step forward will only bring her closer, and he for one is not moving at all. "You don't like your taste of privilege? Rank - all of ours, and our dragons, but yours in particular - is strange like that.You did the wrong thing, and now someone must pay for it, but it cannot be you, can it? Nobody can suitably punish a goldrider - any rider - save hoping to send them away, where the problem will just persist and fester and grow in them, more than likely." He flicks his hand around the kerchief, folding it with one hand, and it disappears back into his pocket. His smile is bitter. "I suppose there is little to be done, if he did follow your misguided lead. He is guilty. As much as any of your other friends - there must be more, unless you overstate your powers of persuasion - and someone will take his place, ultimately." X'vin's words have Dee stepping back, drawing breath and holding it. She listens before letting it out. "I don't like any of this, no, but it's what I'm stuck with, isn't it. My life, with people defending my future even from my own misguided actions." One hand rises to brush away the remnants of the tears that no longer fall. "I'm going to get him out. And I'm going to find a way to make up for this, better than stupid apology letters." She means to hold his eyes for that one determined moment before she looks toward the barracks. "Permission to be dismissed, sir?" She falls to formality to help tie the bow on the string that's tightened down her emotions into something more manageable than the tears of moments ago. "He shouldn't be there," the bronzerider agrees after a moment, "but I have a feeling you're not going to be the one to get him out of there. I'm not entirely sure he deserves the mines for a bit of supply, but you probably know telling Lilah that won't help anybody." Her request is overlooked for a long moment, though he's absolutely heard it. "If you have a better idea than a jailbreak, you and your friends storming the mines with emotions and good intentions, you might do well to enlist the correct help. Your intentions are very sweet, weyrling. It's your execution that is lacking." Still no permission. "You would have been better turning everyone in. She can't send everyone away, nor can she justify keeping one person there if there are others to blame. Especially if any of them Impressed." He's only playing odds, now, but eventually he agrees, "Granted," and when he moves it's to step beyond her, and into the infirmary she just left, as Besmernyth lays himself out. « He would get her friend out if he could, » sounds like an afterthought, a prompt, then, « Good day, Taeliyth. » The more X'vin talks the more Dee's jaw tightens until it's clenched. She waits, and waits, and when the permission is given, she pivots and goes, her pace faster than a walk and just short of a jog as she heads for the barracks and the day's duties that will surely await her there. « He shouldn't, » Taeliyth answers with a kind of subtle ferocity. Then she relents. « Well, perhaps he should. Szarit doesn't deserve a life in the mines, but he doesn't deserve a life free from punishment for his wrong-doings. » There's a sense that when she says 'wrong-doings' she's not talking about what her rider would have had him do. « She sees the best in people, » is delivered with a hard, undecided edge. Then Taeliyth is following her lifemate, still at the distance that must be as much mental as physical for now. |
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