Logs:Being Someone Else
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| RL Date: 14 September, 2012 |
| Who: Ali, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Isyath and Cadejoth make plans. Later, Ali and K'del are surprised. |
| Where: Seedy Bar, Lemos Area |
| When: Day 15, Month 10, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
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| The stars are muted, this afternoon- washed out, like they're all underwater, their sparkling brilliance muted and shimmering. Rather than the usual sense of freedom of the skies, there's a sense of oppression, a feel of lightning and rain and a sense of feeling trapped on the ground. Perhaps that's why she reaches out, seeking out those jangling chains- surely he flies free, and she can live vicariously through him? (Isyath to Cadejoth) Cool, crisp autumn air whips through those chains - chains that spark and gleam as they recognise the identity of she who seeks them out. Cadejoth's mind is full of the open skies, this afternoon, recently-abandoned drills largely forgotten now that he can fly /free/. Is that an extra jangling? Ah, yes: his straps, fluttering free and clanking merrily against him as he flies. « You should come fly with me! » he offers, in lieu of actual greeting. Unspoken, but still obvious: why isn't she flying already? (Cadejoth to Isyath) Wistful, even envious notes slide into the Fortian queen's mental tones. Isyath rides his thoughts, soaking up the delightful feel of the crisp autumn air sliding over his wings. Inadvertantly, perhaps, storms brew in her thoughts as they do above the Fortian skies, black and dark, threatening lightning at any moment. /She/ would be happy to fly in that, but her lifemate is insistent otherwise. Humans do so like to play it safe- a little too much so- although, there's a brief image of fire in a dark cave, swirled around a circle, that stills that line of thought. « I wish to! » Comes the enthusiastic thought, but- /but/, and that's not expressed aloud. But her rider is reluctant. But there are reasons why not. But, but, but. So many thoughts in that head of her rider's, weighing her down, preventing her from flying. What's a dragon to do? (Isyath to Cadejoth) But, but, but. Cadejoth has never been especially appreciative of 'but', since it usually means 'I'd like to, /but/ I can't', and that's no fun at all. Isyath's storm clouds are readily adopted into his mental panorama, along with the lightning that may not exist in reality-- but darts prettily from metal chain to metal chain all the same. He's curious and intrigued by the dark-cave-fire, but his thoughts shift elsewhere. « Your rider needs to get away, » is his opinion, long-suffering. « Too many thoughts make their heads funny. They think too much. » His, and, from the sounds of it, hers too. « Lean on her, » he suggests. (Cadejoth to Isyath) They're definitely in agreement on that one: it's no fun at all. There's a sense of glowing pleasure as the lighting becomes part of his landscape, the leap of lightning from chain to chain sparking Isyath's thoughts just as surely- pursuing from one to the next, a streaking of stars that can never quite match the speed of the electricity. « She does think too much. » It's wholehearted agreement, and resignation, too. « Sometimes- sometimes I can make her forget. For a little while. » Again, darkness. Fire flaring from nowhere, brilliant against the inky blackness. Eyes, staring out of the darkness. A flush of victory. It fades, but the sentiment- the brief sense of exhilaration and freedom- lingers in the Fortian's thoughts. « But she always remembers, and we come home. Where can she go, that she will forget to think? » (Isyath to Cadejoth) To Isyath, Cadejoth envelops himself in the darkness, his sunny-bright afternoon long since abandoned for this inky beauty, lit by those zig-zags of occasional light. « I don't know, » he admits. « She needs to be distracted. Sometimes, we're not enough for that, and yet... » They should be, is his opinion, even though he knows better than that. « K'del takes off his knot and goes places where he might not be known. He finds that soothing. » It is both beautiful and peaceful, and for once, Isyath takes in the scene around her, floating rather than flying- giving up trying to catch that which cannot be caught. Considering, at first, the suggestions, but it is Cadejoth's latter that earns a rush of delighted warmth and agreement. « Ali does that too, when I can lean on her. Then she dances with the flame, and forgets herself. He should come and see; they can be unknown together. » Does that work? In her mind, it does, and she considers it a fine idea. (Isyath to Cadejoth) Dances with the flame? Cadejoth doesn't entirely understand this reference, but it sounds /fascinating/, and thus, he is all for it - his chains wriggle and dance in reply. « He should! He'd like that, I think. And we could all get /out/, and just /be/. » And fly - which is probably more to the point. (Cadejoth to Isyath) The flames flicker in the sudden sweep of air that probably jangles those chains, too. « Yes, » she agrees, wholeheartedly. « We will make this happen. I will /lean/. » She doesn't think anything specifically of such a thought, good or bad. It just is. After all, they know what's best for their riders, right? (Isyath to Cadejoth) Wind and air and darkness - it swirls, maelstorm-esque, as Cadejoth exhibits his pleasure with this new plan. Of /course/ they know what is best for their riders, and of /course/ it is perfectly justified to do things like this. « Tell me when and where, when you can, » he declares, firmly (and can she imagine his tail wagging, even high up in the sky as he is?), « and I will make sure he is there. » (Cadejoth to Isyath) To Cadejoth, Isyath projects, « Isyath, of course, revels in the chaos- the swirling wind is an obvious invitation for her to throw herself into such a challenge, after all. « Tonight. » There's an image of a distant mountain outcropping that might be recognizable as somewhere north of Lemos, and a smaller clustering of buildings, remote enough that they have probably never been there. « There is a bar there. Ali has asked. The miners go there. It makes it safe for her. » Safe for her to be anonymous, perhaps? The Fortian queen doesn't clarify, but her thoughts begin to withdraw, albeit with the promised rendevous still in mind. » The obscurity of this location only seems to excite Cadejoth further-- oh, such enthusiasm! « We will be there, » he promises, his pleasure thrumming through his thoughts with a rattle of bone and a merry scrape of metal upon metal. « He will, anyway. » And /they/ can be elsewhere; just as free. Until tonight, then! (Cadejoth to Isyath) Free. A flash of anticipation and delight comes from the Fortian queen, even as the brightness of her stars further recedes, although the lightning, perhaps, lingers even after she's gone. (Isyath to Cadejoth) Seedy Bar, Lemos Area It's a bar and it's seen better days for sure. The drinks are crude and strong, the clientele likewise, including a fair few weasels. The serving wenches tend to buxomness, though not necessarily all pretty and loose lacings on bodices and skirts. There's always a few poker games going on and brawls are not uncommon. It's inky dark by the time - framed in Isyath's mind - rolls around. Timor is but a thin sliver and Belior hasn't yet risen, and so the only light is the steady glow of baskets in the cluster of buildings far below, and the occasional reflection of moonlight off the Fortian queen's hide. /She/ flies free in the skies, unbothered by the lack of light, the winds from the not-so-distant mountains providing enough vagaries as to be challenging. On the ground, the buildings are squat, and not all that impressive - built by miners, they're made for practicality rather than aesthetics. The main bar is undoubtedly the only source of entertainment at night, and it's pretty full of workers back from the mines, some of them not even bothering to wash before coming down. The heat of the room can be felt like an almost physical thing, in stark contrast to the dead silence of the skies above. Cadejoth drops to a landing a respectable distance away, well out of sight and sound of the buildings, though not so far as to present his rider with an extensive hike. K'del has dressed down for the evening, his knotless shoulders clothed in a simple shirt, with trousers that have seen better days and boots in desperate need of a clean. Once he's safely on the ground, Cadejoth pushes off to the skies again, seeking out Isyath with a tendril of chain and a brightness of purpose. « He's on his way in, » he reports, with a clatter and a bang. « And /I/ am going to catch you! » And /fly/. Below, the bronzerider wends his way towards the light-filled bar, adopting a lazily casual swagger once he's within sight of it. There's no hesitation as he enters, striding nonchalantly towards the bar. Isyath is delighted, her greeting washing over him with a warmth that is contrasted by the cold light of her starry thoughts. « The air feels endless, here, » she shares, as he takes to the skies again. « You'll never catch me, because I'll never stop. » It is a teasing, pleasant thought- flying aloft /forever/. She indulges in it, her body a distant spark in the sky, drawing him up, and up, and up. Below, in the bar, a few of the locals give the arriving visitor a once over, though the bartender doesn't hesitate in dropping a mug of the local drink in front of him. It's a local beer, probably not the strongest or smoothest he's ever tried, by far. Behind, past the tables, there's a stage, darkened until now. One of the staff climbs up onto the stage and calls, "And now, a special presentation-" around the bar, staff dims the glows, and a slow, languid music starts up. Most of the patrons aren't paying attention- continuing whatever conversations they're having. K'del turns on the charm in a laid-back kind of way, more than happy to engage in quiet conversation with the bartender once he's got his drink, and equally affable about relinquishing that position for a local in search of more beer for his table. The beer may not be the best he's ever had, but it doesn't show in the bronzerider's expression as he seeks himself out a free table and sits down at it, just in time for the music to start. There's no suggestion that he expects much of anything; still, it's something to watch as he drinks. Above, Cadejoth will never consider the possibility of defeat: no, he too will fly forever and ever, and one of these days, he'll catch her out. He's got a lot of catching up to do in the meantime, however, and that's also fine - all the better to share the sensation of wind beneath his wings, and agree, « It's /perfect/. It goes on and on and on, and it's /different/, and I'm /still/ going to catch up to you. » Up. Up. /Up/. The music continues. Only a few people - K'del amongst them - are looking at the stage in time to see a flare of light, a ball of flame hanging seemingly suspended in mid-air. It swings left to right, left to right, like a pendulum, in time to the music, which gets slowly faster. A second flame appears, soon after, and the two begin to orbit around each other, circling, circling. The lights on the stage come up, slowly, and along with the flame, a flash of gold and red can be seen, and pale skin. With her hands outstretched, holding the pois in each hand, Ali spins, and spins, making the fire circle seem to hang in the air endlessly. Her costume is probably modest enough for someone weyrbred, less so for someone holdbred- especially so for Ali. He might not even recognize her at first, under that get up, between that spinning movement. The spinning echoes in Isyath's thoughts, too, slowing her- distracting her attention, perhaps. Her amusement at his declaration is palpable. Catch her? Maybe when the moon burns out. Or she's distracted enough, the beats of her wings slowing, the cold wind off the mountain-top providing some resistance. It's certainly true that the fire dance catches K'del's attention; that it has him leaning forward with interest, and a certain amount of amusement that is probably related to the lack of interest from most of the bar: the things they're missing out on! It takes rather a long time for him to actually recognise her, and it may well be as much thanks to Cadejoth - who takes on some of that spinning, fire and air alive in his thoughts - as Ali herself. When he does realise who she is? He stares, his mug hovering halfway to his mouth and utterly forgotten. Cadejoth may be enjoying the show, his view of it a combination of K'del's thoughts and Isyath's, but he's not so distracted as he can't keep flying-- hurtling on and on until the Fortian queen is in reach. And yet - « Does she do this often? The fire! The burning. Like flying, but different. » Oh, and hi: here he is. Maybe he hasn't caught her, but he's closing in. As the heavy beats of the music become faster and faster, the stage earns more attention, several more of the miners turning to watch now, whistling and hooting. The spinning finally slows, changes- becomes a long, sinuous dance, threaded through by the daring (and sometimes close) swing of the fire. The light of the bar is dim enough that each path of the flame lingers in the air long after it's done, leaving a pattern in the mind's eye. Mostly, Ali's eyes are closed, fixed within the dance- opening only now and then to ensure the pois swing exactly where she wants them to. The dark-haired Fortian keeps her eyes, deliberately, off the audience, away from those eyes there- just /dancing/. Isyath's thoughts are twined with Ali's, fire and darkness in her thoughts now, the slight hint of pressure from the queen creating a close bond. /Lean on her/, he said, and she does. She flies free, even as Isyath does, too. « More so. More and more often. » The gold's pleased, delighted. « Afterwards, she hides. But for a while, she flies. » She's startled by his nearness- but her thoughts are threaded by too much else to be overly upset- she even slows, to let him join her. Finally, K'del remembers his drink long enough to take another swig at it, before wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. The whistling and hooting sends a furrow into his brow, his expression now revealing a hesitation - a concern - that wasn't there a few moments ago. But still he watches, still half-leaning forward, his eyes narrowed to focus on Ali's features, her expression, as she dances. « Flies, » agrees Cadejoth, who has reached back for his own rider, and who almost certainly shares these revelations with him in turn. He matches his wingbeats, now, to the queen's, and adds, as they hurtle onwards, « He says she looks beautiful, doing it. It surprised him, but he thinks it suits her. Letting go like that. » Fire lights his chains, and they dance of their own accord: swinging, waving, circling. The noise in the bar rises noticeably- not only the sound of the crowd, totally entranced now, but also the music, beating faster and faster now, demanding that Ali move to keep up with it. Fire circles on either side of her, then twisting over her head, narrowly missing her head- thankfully (and purposefully, probably), her hair is braided back from her face, and the loose folds of her light skirt sweep outwards around her, creating a circle of cloth that mimics the circle of fire above her head. Finally, the music starts to slow, and the Fortian's movements with it, the fire held tighter and closer to her body. Her gaze only now passes across the crowd- her expression going from one of fixed concentration to shock, recognition, and embarrasement as pale green eyes catch sight of K'del. « She sees him. » Isyath is pleased- clearly, she didn't share his arrival, or the arrangements, with her rider. « She needs that- letting go, » the gold agrees, content, for once, not to strain and push ahead, to try and win- but to keep pace with the bronze, the fire that lights his chains offset by the pale, glittering light of her stars. « He apologises for startling her, » says Cadejoth, in the instant after Isyath shares this information. « He says to tell her he's sorry - but not really sorry, because he's so glad he saw. He won't tell. » K'del can't exactly express all of that in a glance, but he lifts his gaze to meet Ali's, if he can, and there's certainly /something/ to be read in it. Pleasure? Approval? Apology? « They all need to let go, sometimes, » adds his bronze, wings stretched out as wide as they will go as, concentrating carefully, he continues that flight up towards the mountain air. « She shouldn't be ashamed. » Thankfully, the dance is already drawing to a close, and the rest of it has been enough of a success that the awkward, stumbling movement that wings down the dance is undoubtedly overlooked by the patrons. Ali recovers, maybe swifter than otherwise- perhaps buoyed by Isyath's presence, or K'del's look- though not nearly as graceful as earlier, she manages to finish without further mishap. When the music ends, the lights go dark on the stage again - only the glow of the fire still lighting Ali's darkened form, and then they, too, disappear. « She will be fine, » the queen assures Cadejoth smoothly. « She will meet him in a short time. He should buy her a drink. » Hard to tell if that's Isyath's suggestion, Ali's, or both. The queen seems /far/ too pleased with herself, comfortable even with the slight shortness of wingbeats to match the Reachian bronze's. The mountains are but distant peaks, now, practically spots far below, the glow of the buildings where their riders are but a distant sparkle- the light of the moon seems closer than the ground is. K'del's applause, at the end of the dance, is perhaps deliberately restrained-- certainly more so than some of that which comes from /other/ observers in the bar. As it dies away, the bronzerider gets up again, heading for the bar; when he returns to his table, it's with two drinks, one of which is set down opposite him, while the other he keeps within his hand. His expression? Quietly neutral. « He will be waiting for her, » replies the bronze, cheered and bolstered by Isyath's certainty. « Was it your idea, that she should learn to dance? » It's hard to tell whether this is Cadejoth's question or K'del's; in either case, it's not so distracting that he can't keep up, illuminated green-bronze by the pale light of the moon above. The bar, largely, goes back to normal, although the buzz of the noise is slightly louder than before- a lot more laughter. It's, perhaps, another ten minutes before Ali appears- dressed in a long skirt, a short sleeved shirt, and a brown shawl- far more modest than before. Her hair's still braided up, and she gets quite a few looks- most of them open and appreciative. Either she's oblivious or trying hard not to notice- she focuses on K'del's table, winding her way there after stopping to talk to one of the men behind the bar- the owner, perhaps. With little fanfare, the Fortian junior slides into the empty seat, reaches for the drink (without checking it), and gulps down several mouthfuls worth. Her expression says it all, even though she voices it a moment later, "-what /is/ that? That's terrible." She's mindful enough to keep it low, however, cheeks flustered, darting a look at him, reading his neutral expression perhaps incorrectly. « I encouraged. » Isyath's happy to take credit, even if, in her thoughts, it's more like /leaned/. « She already likes to dance. And she very much enjoyed the show at the Hold. » A flash, distantly, of a darkened tent, and a different dancer, flame circling around her, too. « She learns. It is good for her. » K'del nurses his drink quietly, listening but not reacting to the others in the bar. He's aware of Ali before she makes it as far as his table, though - and if he watches her, well, it may well be simply protective, making sure she passes through the crowds of men without incident. His expression twists as he watches hers as she drinks; his brows furrow apologetically, but not without a certain amount of amusement. "Beer," he says, with genuine apology. "Pretty awful stuff, but it seemed a better bet than whatever rotgut moonshine they've got. You looked-- good out there. Surprised the-- surprised me. Cadejoth didn't tell me. Sorry, for unnerving you like that." « You did well, » is Cadejoth's opinion, pleased and enthusiastic for the concept as a whole. « It looks like fun! Dancing with /fire/. We don't get to flame much. » Which is sad - genuinely sad. "Issy didn't tell me either," which is Ali's way of accepting his apology, and also setting the scene, with a faintly frustrated noise that doesn't linger. It's hard to be upset with a dragon that exudes such delighted enthusiasm at the outcome as her queen does. Her own expression relaxes somewhat as she watches him, one hand wrapped around the mug, though she doesn't immediately take another sip of the awful stuff. "I- it's fine. Thank you, for the compliment." The Fortian does honestly look pleased at his words, enough that her posture starts to relax marginally as well. "I don't think she- Issy- understands the meaning of /secret/." Which, perhaps, is her subtle way of query, chewing her lower lip for a moment. « I never do, » Isyath answers with a dimming of her enthusiasm, disappointed at the idea that /she/ never gets to flame. « Sometimes, ours puts on a show, for when we get new candidates, or weyrlings. But we don't much her. Perhaps mine can teach yours to flame. » The fire-touched queen seems pleased with this idea, enthusiasm flowing outwards like a tide. "If it helps," says K'del, swirling the beer in his mug but not moving to drink any more of it, "I'm not going to tell anyone. Get the impression they were bemoaning the way we're always working, or something, and the whole thing was hatched out of that. Cadejoth was insistent we had to come, tonight, and /here/ especially." After a moment's pause he adds, "It's good to have an outlet. Something outside." Cadejoth understands all too well the frustrations of not being able to flame, between one queen and another; his apology for mentioning it is unspoken, but nonetheless still present. Her enthusiasm pleases him, however, and then he shares an image of his rider, all lanky-limbs, attempting to manage fire /and/ limbs all at once. « He likes to dance, » he muses. « But he might set himself on fire. » The chewing of her lower lip ceases as Ali leans forward, her gaze on K'del as a kind of shared understanding dawns in her expression. "I- I didn't think anyone else thought that way," she admits, slowly. Then: "Do you- what do you do? As an outlet?" She's oblivious to the noise in the bar, all her attention fixed on the Reachian opposite her, the only sign of her normal anxiousness shown in the way one hand plays with the fringe of her shawl. Isyath's more than amused by that image. « Ali set a bar on fire, once. They put it out quickly, but she was mortified. » And how much more would she be, knowing this was being shared? Perhaps it's a good thing that the Fortian queen's slight pressure on her rider has eased, that she can hide that tidbit in the midst of the cold autumn air above. Instead, after a beat, in her mind's eye K'del carries not fire, but the chains of Cadejoth's thoughts, swinging them above his head. She likes this much, much more. K'del's grin is inclined towards the self-deprecating, though it's only after he's swigged down another few swallows of his beer that he explains why. "Take off my knot and go dancing, generally. Gathers - the small-but-not-too-small ones, where there's plenty of people who aren't local, but probably not the kind of people who might recognise my face. It's not... a hobby, as such, but it's nice to pretend to be someone else for a while." After a moment's pause he adds, "It's too much pressure, otherwise. Being always on." « She set it on fire? » Cadejoth's entranced by this idea, by the destructiveness of it - by the dangerous of such an activity. It's exciting! He's even more delighted by the image of K'del with his chains, and adds sparks to them - not fire-sparks, not exactly, but something to brighten up the clang of metal upon metal. « Yours should dance with stars, » he adds. When he reaches for the beer, polite habit makes Ali do the same, albeit with a grimace after she's done so. "I- yes. It's freeing, isn't it? The Weyrwoman- Hattie- told me to do that, early on." She takes a moment to shrug the shawl off her shoulders- it's warm enough in here without it, and she's still flustered besides. Propping an elbow on the table, she settles her chin comfortably in the heel of her hand. "Do you- pretend to be someone specific? Journeyman Kadel? Holder?" She seems fascinated. « She didn't mean to. When she saw your rider tonight I thought it was going to be another one of those. » Thankfully not- if only because she's enjoying the flying /far/ too much. The Fortian queen's pleased with Cadejoth's addition to the mental image of his rider. « If she could, she would. Stars would be safer. » Is that a joke at her rider's expense? No, surely not! « They should dance together. » Surely he could... convince his rider? "It is," agrees K'del, easily, with a twist of amusement. "Sometimes. When I was younger, I was Apprentice Kas, finally getting to take a break from manning the gather stall. Or maybe it was the first time my family had let me come to the gather. These days... depends what I feel like. Always got /some/ kind of story, though. Something. Too hard to forget, otherwise. The story makes it feel real." « We would have felt terrible if that had happen, » admits Cadejoth, with more than enough relief of his own. « But fire has its own appeal. The danger... that's part of it, isn't it? Part of the fun. The challenge. » Thoughtfulness is not really Cadejoth's milieu, but that's nonetheless the sensation that follows her last remark. It must have him reaching some kind of conclusion, because a moment later K'del's adding, with thoughtfulness of his own, "You should come with me sometime. We can dance without people spreading gossip about us. It's not quite the same as fire-dancing, but..." "Was Apprentice Kas a harper?" Ali guesses, with a grin, clearly enjoying hearing this aspect of K'del's heretofore unknown life. With the shawl pooled in her lap now, she has nothing to fiddle with, and so she takes another gulp from the mug, terrible beer or no. "I- I have a story, too. For when I'm- up there." She glances over her shoulder at the stage- in the process noting some of the looks she's- they're- getting, and turns hastily back. "Amalieli. Eli. She's- she grew up a trader, and she always thought that was going to be her life until her path crossed with the travelling show. It was meant to be, for her. She's so... certain of that." There's a definite note of envy, even if it's envy of a character that exists only in her head, when she's on the stage. « She has the owners make sure there are jugs of water nearby, now. » Isyath informs him- reassuringly?- less bothered by the thought than the other dragon. « It is part of the challenge. That's why it is good for her. » The queen's surprised by Cadejoth's thoughtfulness, enough that, without warning, she folds her wings and begins to rocket downwards, letting weight of her body hurtle her towards the ground, a flicker of mental stars trailing behind in invitation to join her. "We'd like that." Ali doesn't seem aware of the plural, and her agreement is immediate. "It would be- fun." K'del pushes his now-empty mug away, grinning. "He was. Thought about Vintner, maybe, because my family grows grapes and it seemed like something I'd know something about, but... Harper. Seemed to fit." Her story interests him, enough so that he leans back in his chair, arms folding in front of him, his head tilting just slightly off to one side. "Amalieli sounds like she's comfortable with who she is," he remarks. "That certainty - can see the appeal of that. Sounds nice." Between his own thoughtfulness and Isyath's sudden dive, it takes Cadejoth some time to actually respond - first in shooting after her, and only once he's hit his stride in that, with words. « It makes sense. It's good, when they do things that are good for them. » K'del's pleased by that immediate agreement; his smile is genuinely broad and bright. "Good. Sounds like fun." "I- I didn't know that about you. That your family grows grapes." Oddly, Ali seems more thrown by knowledge of the 'real' K'del than by 'Kas'. She uses the excuse of gulping down the rest of the beer to give her a moment to get her bearings, not helped, perhaps, by the heat and continuing noise. "She's very confident about who she is," the Fortian goldrider agrees, wistfully. She goes distant, for a moment- up in the skies, Isyath drops, the cold wind whipping past them, a sense of exhilaration sparking through her thoughts like a wildfire. « And when we do things for them, that are good for them, » the queen agrees, sagely. At the last moment, her wings snap out, slowing her speed dramatically- the ground sweeping away underneath as she soars triumphantly over it, like some kind of conquering queen. "Issy, she's-" the dark-haired woman shakes her head, as if diffusing any lingering effects. "I'm sorry, she's- she's always like this, after." After she dances? "I should- probably go-" the awkwardess that is more familiar for the Fortian is back- she's looking around again, chewing her lip. "Got six older brothers, two sisters, but most of them don't grow grapes anymore," offers K'del, though as soon as the words are out he seems almost to regret them, as though he's only belatedly recognised the return of that awkward, for all that he's mystified by the cause of it. "Ali," he begins, then, reaching out a hand that doesn't quite get as far as Ali's own - certainly, he doesn't end up touching her. "It's fine. She's fine. /You're/ fine. There's nothing to apologise about. Go if you need to, but... it's fine. You can stay, if you want to." « Those, too, » agrees Cadejoth, smugly pleased at the success of this particular venture, though that smugness wobbles along with his wings as he registers, through his lifemate, Ali's sudden discomfort. He pulls short of the ground higher than the larger queen, and takes longer to properly adjust his pace. Strangely, the mention of his brothers and sisters actually makes Ali smile- something reminiscent in her expression for a moment. "I- I don't usually stay around, anyway. I'm- not used to-" she trails off, drawing her shawl around herself, focusing on K'del as the easiest thing to look at. The stretch of his hand earns a smile and, after a beat, she reaches out, fingers brushing his, briefly. "Thank you." She doesn't really elucidate what she's thanking him for, but instead rises, hesitating there a moment. "And thank Cadejoth for the company, would you? Issy's very fond of him." Isyath, too, becomes aware of her lifemate's discomfort, and though it means the end of her flight, there's no recrimination or resignation. Instead, she circles backwards, sweeping low- angling in to land in the dark just beyond the grouping of buildings. She seems content, the brightness of her stars lacing through the chains of his tones. K'del's hand stays where it is, even after she's stood up; at the same time, K'del's head lifts to watch her, a slow, careful nod marking his response before he's managed to put the words together. If his brow is still furrowed in confusion, he's careful nonetheless to keep his tone even. "I will," he promises. "He likes her, too. And thank you, Ali. Hopefully we'll get the chance to go dancing sometime soon." His hand flattens, finally, and is then withdrawn, though he keeps his gaze upon her. "Have a good night, Ali. And - you really were very good." Cadejoth's disappointment at this sudden end is bitten back so that he can continue the jangling melody that so often marks his enjoyment. « We'll fly again soon, » he says, reassuring-- himself? Her? Both of them? It's doubtful Ali's even aware of any confusion on K'del's part. "I hope so too- somewhere with better drinks," she adds, with a laugh. His latter words earn a brilliant, pleased smile, a subtle straightening of the dark-haired woman's posture. "Thank you, K'del. Good night," she adds, warmly, before navigating her way towards the exit- fixed, again, on her destination, doggedly avoiding looking around. Out in the cool air, her pace turns into a run, heading unerringly for Isyath's side. « Soon, » the Fortian queen promises him, even as she's lifting back up into the sky- passing him by- then blinking between a moment later. |
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