Logs:Comfort From Monaco
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 30 October, 2012 |
| Who: I'kris, Kinory |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two Monacoans give each other comfort and companionship, so far from home. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 2, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated! Actually played on 28th of November 2012. |
  |
| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. It's the middle of month two, and Rielsath and Svissath's eggs have been on the sands for a couple of weeks, now. With his brown inclined to stick around as much as possible, I'kris has been spending quite a bit of his time in the galleries - though he doesn't seem to find the eggs anywhere near as interesting as his brown does. It's snowing outside again, though, and it's warm in here; I'kris has clearly been curled up in a distant row for some time now, long enough that his clothes have dried out. He's staring out into space, moody as any teenager. Kinory's hastily pulling her long hair back into a sleek 'tail as she gradually climbs up into the galleries, expression openly curious. If looks are anything to go by, she could easily pass for sixteen. Her tight grip on her coat eventually loosens as the heat begins to win out over the outer cold, gloveless hands flexing a few times with a tiny frown. To the railing she goes, leaning her elbows on it to peer over at the eggs for a long, thoughtful moment. She likely doesn't notice I'kris at all, apparently every bit as lost in her contemplation as he is in his moodiness. I'kris almost certainly doesn't notice Kinory, either, but the same can not be said by his brown. The galleries may have seen many visitors, over the past few weeks, and there may even be others present at the moment, but every single one of them gets the same scrutiny as they enter: long and careful, through partially lidded eyes. That is what arouses I'kris from his reverie, and has him straightening from his slouched-shoulder slump. Which isn't to say that he addresses Kinory, though - but he does lift his head to consider her from his distant vantage point, even as his dragon does likewise from his. It takes a moment for Kinory to notice that she's being watched. Measured, even. Dark eyes widen the minute they move from an egg to Svisseth and his weighty look, but to her credit, she stands her ground. She even manages a quiet, "Hello there, " for the vigilant sire. A half-turn allows her to peek over her shoulder, perhaps in response to feeling a second pair of eyes on her. To I'kris, "I hope I'm not intruding. I just - wanted to slip by and see them for a bit. The eggs, I mean." "It's no intrusion," says I'kris, with hasty, and somewhat awkward, reassurance. "Everyone's welcome, I promise. He's just--" Failing to come up with an appropriate word to explain his lifemate, the Monacoan brownrider cuts himself off and just shrugs. "People keep saying they're nice eggs. That we should be proud of them. So. You know." He waves an idle hand towards the egg, one that is - perhaps - intended to be encouraging, though he's looking at her rather more than the eggs, his head tilted to the side curiously. Svissath holds his ground, watching, but not in an especially concerned kind of way. "Well, " the slight girl says slowly, "they are nice. And why shouldn't you be proud? They'll be your dragon's offspring. Not every rider can say that." Awkwardly tugging at the sides of her heavy coat, clearly unaccustomed to the northern garb, she gingerly steps away from the railing, moving to take a seat within speaking distance. "If my father were here, he'd say they were all the nicer because you're a part of it, I'm sure." Mention of her father makes I'kris expression twist and twitch; he seems much more unhappy about the reference than he ought to be, though for reasons any Monacoan who knows anything about his father might be conscious. M'kris is not an easy man to please, and I'kris has never had much success. "Half Monacoan," he supposes. "Well. A quarter. But-- I am proud. It's just-- complicated. Svissath's plenty proud for all of us, of course." Beat. "Perhaps they'll all be bronzes. That might help. Uh. Not that it isn't an honour. In general. Regardless. You know." Kinory's smile is tentative, but certainly no less genuine for its reticence. "I can tell that he is. Or at least - I imagine he must be. I don't know how dragons think." Her laugh is tinny, equally hesitant, but she sobers soon after, lapsing briefly back into the thoughtful silence that found her at the railing. Then: "Will they know that he's their father? I've never really figured out who to ask about that. I've always wondered if they're as - aware of familial ties as we are. On some level." "I think it's hard to miss how he feels," says I'kris, and there's a definite note of pride in his voice for it, for all that his hands are twisting uncomfortably in his lap; he seems tense. "I-- he knows that Leiventh's his father, I think. When he's reminded. I suspect the fact that I remember helps. I suppose we'll come back and visit them, once we go home. He'll want to. I mean, I assume he will." For a dragonrider, and indeed, for a dragonrider in a long line of dragonriders, he seems very uncertain about all of this. "It's different for them, because they forget so much. Besides, they'll mate with siblings and parents and children, so..." Kinory grimaces, nose wrinkling into a child's classic moue of distaste. "I've tried not to think about that part. Maybe it's best that they don't think about or remember that sort of thing too much, " she says lightly, but her head tilts a little to give him a longer look, outsider to outsider. "And they'll get to come visit him, of course. At least you'll get to go back. Everything here is really - different. I'm starting to miss the warmth." That moue of distaste actually seems to amuse I'kris, who grins abruptly, but leaves the topic alone in favour of the other. "I hate the cold," he agrees, with a shudder. "I will be glad to go home. Though... it seems sad, to leave his children behind with no reminders of where they came from. I wish--" He breaks off from that thoughtfulness, shaking his head abruptly and abandoning that topic, too. "You're braver than I am. I don't think I could stay here. Not forever. Being an outsider is hard." "I don't know if I can stay forever, " Kinory admits, "but maybe it'll get easier with - with time. After so much of it passes, I don't suppose I'll really be as much an outsider, anymore." Not on the surface, anyway. Despite the warmth, a shiver makes her tremble; her dark gaze falls to her lap. "Don't - don't say that. I'm not. Brave, that is. I've never felt it, certainly." She's yet to learn that there are different types of bravery. From one not-brave person to another, a smile. "We're all--" but he stops. He's even younger than she is, and likely feels no more brave: it's all too much. Too hard. "People tell me that everything gets easier, in time. Maybe it helps when you belong to a place, with something tangible. I don't know. Monaco is all I've ever known, and even now... I miss the ocean and the beach, and the jungles. I miss the way it smells." He looks suddenly apologetic. "I'm probably not helping, am I? I'm sure you'll be fine. Make a place for yourself, for as long as you want it. It-- it's been good for me, I think. Coming here. Giving me purpose." His gaze slides over those eggs again. There's something sad and small in the curve of Kinory's neck, carefully bent so that only her knees might witness the furious blinking his wistful descriptions evoke. She straightens after a moment, equally apologetic. "You're not, " she agrees, "but yet - you are. It's really nice, you know, to hear that someone else sees and hears and feels the same things that you do. About a place." The glance she tips toward the bowl is cautiously hopeful. "I'll try. I don't know what that place might be. And maybe - well. Snow is kind of pretty, isn't it? Just in a different way." As his gaze moves over the eggs, so too does hers. "Purpose, " she echoes, thoughtful. "It's hard to know what that is, sometimes. I'm glad that you think you've found yours. What will you do, then?" I'kris exhales lengthily as she talks, nodding along whether or not she's looking at him to see it. "It's nice to have people to talk about it with. Brieli has spent more time at Monaco than most people here, but... it's not the same." Of snow, he has no reply, except there's another exhale that might be closer to a sigh. "Sometimes, we have to stumble across our purpose," he says, which doesn't really answer her question. Perhaps what he says next is intended to make up for that, though it's non-specific and cryptic, and deeply determined: "I'm going to make my Father proud." Kinory looks very much like she wants to reach out to the other Monaco teen, but the only sign she actually gives is a brief twitch of her hand, which stays put after that tiny movement. "I know it's very hard, when they tell us they're disappointed, " she says in all but a whisper. She can definitely understand the weight of parental pressure to do what they feel is right. "But I envy you a little. You have him, " a gentle nod toward the brown on the sands. "In all the stories my mother told me as a child, it would be the - the greatest thing. Unconditional love, right?" I'kris' shoulders are stiff and tense, and his expression not much easier, but he manages a quiet little chuckle at the last of what she says. "Unconditional love," he agrees. "It's worth it." If he sounds like he's struggling to convince himself, well, maybe that's just emotion - the pressure of everything. "I'd never trade Svissath. Not even for the bronze my Father--" He breaks off. "Svissath means everything to me. You should Stand. It'd be nice to have a Monacoan on the sands." "At least your father believed you to be good enough to be a rider, " she murmurs. "My mother should have been one. She could have stood a long time ago, but she wanted to do other things. I think she would have been a good partner to a dragon. She's so - kind. And patient." Caution, doubt and a little bit of hope all fly over her face one after the other, clear as print. "Do you really think so? I don't know if that's what I'm supposed - well. What I should do. It's always seemed so scary to me, getting up the nerve to put yourself out there. My father would win if I tried and - proved him right." I'kris has been, thus far, rather wrapped up in his own issues, but something in what Kinory says now has him inhaling sharply; he shakes his head. "That's awful," he says. "That he would-- you could do it and not tell him." It's a devious thing to do, and something about it seems to make the brownrider unhappy, because a moment later he's hurrying on, "If you never try, then you'll never know. I don't know. I think it's awful, that people don't get the opportunity. You. Your mother. You should think about it, at least. You've probably got another two sevens to decide." Kinory nods slowly, brow pinching into a slight frown. "I've always wondered what it'd be like, " she confesses. "A dragon chose Mother to be a candidate. She says that if I - if I ever am chosen like that, I should think about it." But the concept of taking her own initiative - now, that's daunting. "I'll try to give it some thought. I guess there will be other chances, though, even if I don't take this one and ask for it. Especially if - since - I'll stay." "No dragon ever chose me," admits I'kris. "To Stand, I mean. Just Svissath, in the end. But if your mother was picked-- it stands to reason you'd have a chance." He's watching her again, now, focusing his attention in a way he hasn't been throughout much of their conversation. "Do. Think about it. At least if you Stand this time, you have an opportunity at a part-Monaco dragon... though I suppose Iesaryth's clutches would count, too." But different, his tone says. Not as good. "No pressure. Just think about it. I'd like it if you were out there. Not that that should... pressure you. At all." That might be a hint of a shy smile tugging at the edges of Kinory's mouth. Maybe. "I promise to think about it, " she assures him, "but I can't guarantee that I'll decide to go out there. Then again, I don't suppose that'd stop one from finding me, somehow, if we're meant to be ... " She lets herself trail off, still as of yet a young dreamer. "Even if I don't officially present myself as a - a candidate, I can at least promise that I'll be here to see them hatch, one way or another. I'm - well, at least my family is - we're glad that he's here. That you're here." And that they helped make baby dragons. I'kris' smile is not much more confident, but he's so obviously pleased, and by all that Kinory has to say. "That's all I ask," he says, earnestly. "I-- thank you. I'm... glad. Sometimes it's easy to forget that some people are pleased. That it wasn't--" He breaks off, shaking his head. "Thank you." There are even dimples. Kinory hesitates only briefly, but this time she does reach out a hand toward him. "Mother always says that there are no mistakes. There's a reason for everything, even if it isn't always clear." Her smile grows a little, warms. "Something wonderful is already guaranteed to come of it, you know? Seven new lives are going to start. No matter who they are or where they live, they'll live. They'd be different if another had won that flight." In return, I'kris offers his own hand, and squeezes the one Kinory has extended. "You're right," he agrees, sounding more sure, now. "Seven lives. And they're because of us." His smile grows, and after a moment more, his gaze turns from Kinory towards the eggs. "Seven lives are going to change. It's such a strange thought, isn't it? But... a good one. This was meant to happen." "It is good, " Kinory agrees happily. "I don't like change, not really, but this type makes people really happy. And for that, I'm glad." Withdrawing her hand after squeezing his lightly in return, she shrugs her way back into the heavy, somewhat too large coat of hers. "I should be getting back. It was really good to talk to you. And tell Svisseth thank you for indulging my wish to see his eggs. I hope I'll get a chance to meet him, too, before you're to return home." I'kris looks just briefly disappointed at the other Monacoan's impending departure, but nods, suddenly all enthusiasm. "You, too," he says, earnestly. "I'd-- be delighted. Any time, really. We're here a lot. It's-- really nice to know that there's someone else from home around, you know? Less lonely, somehow." It's such a genuine, warm smile that follows her out: he really is glad she's here. |
Leave A Comment