Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
This fine, late summer afternoon finds the lake less crowded than it has been of late, though perhaps that's because of the time of day: it's too early for the weyr's children to be out of classes, for the most part, and several of the wings are at drills out in the bowl. Lilabet's reasons for not being in class are presumably her own, shown only in the mulish expression she's wearing as she paddles her way around the edge of the lake, shoes tied together by their laces and slung over one wrist. Her attention is focused intently on her feet: on the way her bare toes shimmer and morph each time they slide beneath the gently lapping water.
The shimmering and morphing will only be increased - and altered - by Arekoth's arrival. Could be, he's seen Lilabet. Could be, it's just that he's being urged into the water to rinse off that sulphuric stench clinging to his hide after the drills by the rider making his way onto the beach, laden with cleaning utensils. Okay, no, Arekoth's definitely seen Lilabet. He's definitely making for her. And H'kon is looking up almost placidly as he arranges his things on the shore.
As intently as she seems to be focusing on the water, it's no wonder that Lilabet is immediately aware of a change to her surroundings, even if it's entirely possible she would have failed to notice on sound alone. She looks up abruptly, first seeking out Arekoth and then, with a certainty of movement, turning to find H'kon: she's expecting him there. Her shoulders go back, that pre-teen mulishness replaced by something less easily defined, though what's absolutely certain is that she has no shame in being here, whether or not she's supposed to be in class. "Hello, Arekoth," she says, greeting the brown first. "You stink - I can smell you from here. Do you need a hand, H'kon?"
Hello, Lilabet. Which is sort of what that forward-lean and exhalation of dragon breath is about, the brown ducking his head to eyeball the girl. H'kon has been watching Lilabet carefully, since he's spotted her, watching her body language, and probably desperately wishing that his sister had been a more regular girl, that he might have some insight. "There is a great deal of him," he offers a wan little smile, and not even the slightest obvious glance to the placement of the sun. He knows what time it is as well as she does. And knows enough to know she knows.
Lilabet knows enough to know what Arekoth's whole breathing thing is all about, and grins up at the brown in answer. She's calm when she turns back to H'kon, carefully bunching her skirt up so that she can tie it into a knot and keep it from clinging quite so much to her legs. She makes no attempt to explain her presence, nor to acknowledge the time; instead, she gives him a firm nod. "Most things are easier with two," she tells him, decisively. "And I've some time. You've been drilling, today?"
H'kon crouches down, dealing efficiently with footwear and the rolling-up of pantlegs. "Well that is convenient," is slow enough to have been given a good deal of thought. There is a shade of chiding behind the words, but H'kon attempts to make up for it in offering the longer-handled (and stiffer-bristled) brush forward, handle first, as he approaches the water. "We have." Once he's stepped up to the brown, in the water, his hand-brush at the ready, he even offers, "Precision as more than just a matter of pride."
It may well be a point of stubborn pride that keeps Lilabet from offering any explanation, now: certainly, her shoulders stay stiffly back, her head held unashamedly high as she accepts the brush. Wielding it with practiced precision, she turns back towards Arekoth, and splashes into the water. Her answer is slow in coming, as though she's far too focused upon preparing her brush for scrubbing to maintain conversation, though that's likely to be far from the truth. "Precision," she supposes, finally, "because it's important? For itself, and not just so that you can feel good about having had it. Though there's something to be said for taking pride in one's work, I think."
H'kon turns to his dragon, eyeing Lilabet askance just once or twice before he manages full focus on his dragon. A tap to Arekoth, who sidles a bit deeper. H'kon dips the brush in the water to start scrubbing, offering no more explanation for his dragon's seeming unwillingness to pre-rinse than the pre-teen does for her presence at the lake at this hour. "Precision," is not quite a correction, so much as another angle offered, "as practicality. There are reasons for it even now. If subtler ones." Scrub.
Nose wrinkling with consideration, Lilabet supposes: "Because it looks good for the holders. Because it's useful in situations like-- like when you were taking down Rone's camp, I guess. And because, one day, there really will be thread again, and you have to pass that kind of training down, else they'd have to start all over again." This time, she manages to start scrubbing while talking, though industry does not keep the hopeful lilt from her voice as she concludes; it's probably not outright praise she's looking for, but approval seems likely to be on her agenda.
"Indeed." He bobs his head, a little nod, and ducks under Arekoth's armpit. "Pride is more solid when built upon purpose." This warrants a quick peek to the girl, the slightest break in the rhythm of his dragon cleansing routine. Arekoth shifts, lifts his twisted forelimb, slides, and settles. Ho hum.
She seems pleased, and though she's too intent upon her scrubbing to meet H'kon's gaze when he peeks, it's obvious in her expression. "I like that," she says, sounding thoughtful, one hand lifting to press flat upon the brown's hide, just to feel. "I mean, purpose is good, in general. And it makes sense that you'd be better off feeling proud over something that's actually useful. Especially if it's useful to someone that isn't just you. Like... it's nice when I do well on a test, but it's nicer when it's something that benefits more than just me."
The brown seems aware of that, turning his head to look, not quite straight on, at the girl. He flicks his wings, a minute movement for such a big beast as that. Lilabet's assessment gets a serious nod from the brownrider, this time without a break in the scrubbing - although it's become more meditative in general, that motion. After another dip and a few rounds of scrubbing, "And what would one such something be?"
"I--" Lilabet stops. She even flushes. "There's a lot of things it could be," she admits, "but I guess I'm thinking of something specific at the moment, only I can't tell you. But I hope it's something that I can feel proud of because it's something I did well that also helps Mama and Dee. I mean, as well as me. I think it is." There's something in her tone that suggests she's already proud of it, whatever it is. "It's important to do things properly, isn't it?"
"Okay." A bit of an off-balanced response to her inability to tell him. His eyebrows have even lifted a little. He ducks down for more water, and steps around to the brown's side again. The same one where Lilabet is at work, of course. "I find your instincts are generally correct," doesn't sound much of reassurance. It's a statement, that. And then, H'kon is nodding. "It is."
Perhaps because it suits her purposes, Lilabet seems to choose to be reassured by H'kon's words anyway; certainly, she gives a firm nod and, as she glances in the brownrider's direction, follows it up with a smile. "I try to do things properly. Sometimes it's hard to know what 'properly' is, though. Does working it all out get easier when you get older?" She's hopeful. Please say yes.
H'kon gives a smile bordering on sad, and shakes his head. "I'll not lie to you." Hope or no. "At least the practice of it is not without its own worth." He pauses the scrubbing again. "Experience, at least, can set precedents. But there are always new things." Arekoth shifts, and this time, H'kon is willing to offer the translation of, "Else things would be quite boring, some would say."
"I hate it when adults tell me that," says Lilabet, but her sigh is exaggerated, and she's still more or less smiling. "Okay, well, that's something. Experience." Though now she turns to give H'kon a more direct, nearly searching look. "Isn't boring good sometimes, though? It seems disruptive, otherwise."
"Better that than to leave you unprepared, I should think." He taps at Arekoth, who moves, just a tiny bit, toward the deeper. Prepare to wash dragon butt. "'Disruptive' is an appropriate word," H'kon decides. Just when he was about to resume scrubbing, the brush drops back to his side. Arekoth's wings twitch, just once, and his rider's lips press into a line until needed to say, "Though perhaps at times that is required."
"Is it?" Lilabet's question is genuine, quiet in a thoughtful, intense kind of way. "I suppose we were a disruption to your life, weren't we? And so was Arekoth. But I know he was for the best, and I like to think that we were." She doesn't seek a facial response to that; she's turned back to the scrubbing, doing so with intensity.
She doesn't seek one, but that's the majority of H'kon's reaction. A long and careful look, with heavy facial lines drawing just a bit down, a look at nothing but the ripples of water moving about Arekoth's leg. "Yes." Weighty and sincere. And answering all of that in one.
Lilabet doesn't notice. Or maybe she does, but she doesn't show any sign of it. Her exhale, however tiny, is the only suggestion she gives that she's had any emotional investment in the answer. "Good," she says, firmly. "I like to think things work out for the best. Most of the time. I hope so, anyway."
H'kon dips that brush all over again, and this time actually gets it to the dragon's hide before it's gone dry, with no indication of whether he's heard even that little exhalation. "Arekoth is much the same way." Arekoth, who is watching from that same angle he'd assumed earlier. "Hoping for the best, at any rate. I'm not certain he wants all things to work out."
This time, Lilabet lifts her head so that she can glance back at the brown - at his face, now, instead of just his hide. "He likes... chaos? Or is it that he wants things to work out in the way that is best for him and what he thinks, rather than other people?" She's, perhaps, addressing both of them. Her scrubbing has subsided, at least temporarily.
"A bit of both, I suppose. Motion, he likes." Scrub. "Change." H'kon is still scrubbing when he looks to Lilabet, this time. "But not in all things, I suppose. Everyone needs someplace solid."
Lilabet pauses, and then turns her head so that she can meet H'kon's gaze. "Like you," she decides. "You're his solid place, aren't you? One of them. And vice-versa." Her smile is abrupt, and is followed, almost immediately, by a resumption of her scrubbing.
"Yes," comes without any hesitation this time. A final few swipes, and he drops the brush to his side again, and takes a step back, wriggling his toes under the water. Still watching the girl, "One of them." Whatever it is he's stepped back for, it seems, he can wait on. And wait he does.
"Which makes it easier to deal with other things," concludes Lilabet, who continues scrubbing for a few seconds longer, and then stops - it's very likely the moment when she realises that H'kon has stopped, and even stepped back. She glances at Arekoth, giving his hide an appraising glance, then turns her attention back to his rider. "Good."
H'kon's mouth pulls at a smile when the girl stops, lifting his chin slightly. "He'll need to go in deeper, for the rest." Implied: so will his washers. But still H'kon waits. Only once the brown has sighed and started in: "Other things. Disruptive things, perhaps?" Probing.
Comprehension dawns, though instead of flushing, Lilabet abruptly smiles, nodding quickly as she steps back to let the brown do so. That there are other things is nonetheless obvious in her expression: in her gaze, which is more hesitant than her smile suggests it ought to be, and also in the way she's gripping that scrubbing brush. "Maybe," she agrees, finally. "A bit. Change is hard. And I know a lot of things are going to change, and it's inevitable, but... I resented Dee when he was born, and that turned out okay. And Dee having a dad now." Though she flushes, and admits, "Mostly, anyway. I get it, I do. Family."
Arekoth goes to where he can submerge, and disappears. Just for a bit. He'll probably come out smelling better. H'kon watches him. "A lot of things," the brownrider agrees, recalls, at length. "Family. Solid point and point of change, hm?" Looking directly to her, then, arms crossing, and that brush left to leave wet marks on his shirt, "Understanding does not always mean a lack of worry..."
"Yes," says Lilabet, nodding energetically. "That's it. It's just-- it's different. And I know my family is still my safe place, but it's scary, thinking about it being different, too. Bigger." Her brow creases; she's probably completely unaware that she's picked that up from H'kon himself. "Mama says I worry too much, sometimes, but I think she worries about things, too. It's normal, isn't it? It feels like it is. And... it is a good thing. It's just surprising."
H'kon listens intently throughout. When he tilts his head, it's admission rather than apathy. "I imagine we all worry too much, from time to time." With a bit of a catch in his throat that might almost have been a laugh, "And I don't believe there was anyone not surprised." He shifts the brush forward, and falls to inspecting the bristles, seemingly one by one. "How is your brother?"
"Even," says Lilabet, after a moment's thought, "mama. But it's just the way she is, I think. I think she needs to be needed. I thought she'd rather have an actual baby, but I suppose when they're older they don't need... um, I don't know, I guess. Dee's happy. But he's always happy. I don't know where he gets that, really. Maybe I should learn from him, and stop worrying." She gives her brush a shake, sending water droplets flying.
"He does seem quite adaptable," H'kon muses, and there's affection there. "Perhaps part of why he and Arekoth get on so well." Arekoth, who is slowly morphing from a soaking dragon to a waiting dragon. "May I ask what worries you most in this?"
Lilabet's tone is equally fond. "Dee will find a way to belong wherever he is, and with whoever he's with, I'm sure of it. But I'm--" She stumbles over that, and hesitates, leaving a pause of several seconds before she tries again. "I've been thinking a lot about family. Even before this, I guess. And it's selfish and awful, because I know she doesn't have family at all, and I know this is the right thing to do, but I guess I thought we were good. As we were. And even that's silly, because..." She stops, turning her head to give a H'kon a wry smile. "I feel like I'd understand better if it were a baby, you know? Instead of a stranger, just arriving. But. But."
"Hm." He shifts his feet in the water, and lets his chin drop in order to watch the ripples he's sent out. "I believe it's more the girl's situation that had your mother looking to take her in, than anything. Certainly than any dissatisfaction." The smile borders on embarrassed when he adds, "Though I'm sure now I'm simply telling you things you know already."
Lilabet's, "Mmm," is thoughtful, but combined with her nod it does seem to indicate an affirmative. Abruptly: "How do you feel about it all, H'kon? Please. I'm not saying I want you to have a problem so that I don't feel quite so bad, but..." She's ten. She's allowed to be hopeful.
H'kon lifts a hand - the one without the brush - to hold up, stop her there. "Don't feel badly for being uncertain," is the easiest thing to address, gentle encouragement for Lilabet before he gets to thinking over her question, forehead taking on a crease, and mouth a tiny frown, while he searches for the best word. Apparently, it's, "Torn."
A careful nod affirms H'kon's words, with the faintest of serious smiles to go with it: right now, with those big blue eyes trained so carefully upon him, she looks both far older and far younger than her chronological age. It's, "Torn," that she repeats, sans question mark. "Because...?"
H'kon gathers his thoughts under the gaze of Arekoth as well as Lilabet, though it's the girl he's looking to once he's found all he needs in the ripples in the water. "Because," his own repetition, "this family - yours," he's willing to accord, with a little dip of his head, "- is separate. And involvement, from so young-" and maybe it's that word that clues him into Lilabet's chronological age. He tries again: "It is difficult enough to navigate now."
Lilabet is silent for a long time, clearly thinking. "Ours," she says, after a moment. "I can't speak for Dee, though I'd be surprised if his answer were different, but... you're part of my family, H'kon. You're not my father, and you don't try to be, but you're still part of it. It's... something I've been thinking about. I wanted my family to be mother and father and grandparents and uncles and cousins, but it isn't. I think," beat, "Raija will be lucky to have a H'kon in her life from so young."
Not quite what the brownrider was expecting to hear, least of all put so neatly, though there's no overt sign of surprise on his face (beyond the slightest lift of eyebrows, once more). After a moment of pressing his fingertips to the back of the brush, still in hand: "Well that means a great deal." Surely why he says so little on it, turning it over in his mind instead. "I suppose," a bit afterwards, and gently teasing, "even you can adapt, hm? There may yet be hope for one like me." Though it doesn't come with the satisfied sound of an issue exhaustively treated.
"There's always hope," says Lilabet, and it's hard to tell, from her tone, whether she's being serious or facetious, or if she's even sure for herself. It's a moment later, and much more thoughtful, when she adds, "I don't know that mama would have said yes, honestly, if she didn't want you involved. It is going to work out. I'm still not completely comfortable with it, but I'm going to be. And I think you will, too."
"Though I should still think Dilan will be the first among any of us to adapt. Except perhaps for Arekoth, but he has the advantage of a faulty memory." There's a quirk of a smile at the end of that, taking a turn toward the pensive at the end. But all that rest is left unsaid, at least to ten-turn-old ears. What H'kon does pursue is, "If you're not in the mood to swim, I can finish scrubbing him."
"Always," confirms Lilabet with a smile. "Dee would adapt to the end of the world in a moment." She hesitates, then, glancing back towards the brown, and then towards the scrubbing brush she's still holding, and then, half-heartedly, towards the sun above. "I should go in," she admits. "I said I'd pick up Dee. But... thanks, H'kon."
H'kon accordingly holds out his free hand for that brush. "Not to worry; I've had turns of practice in washing him on my own as well." He, too, glances skyward, and then back to the pre-teen. "Your help was truly appreciated, Lilabet. Although," and that look becomes a bit more the look of the elder, or ranking officer, "I would recommend attending those classes. Not just for your own sake."
Lilabet has just relinquished that scrubbing brush when the smile on her face turns abruptly sour at mention of her classes. There's something distinctly scowly in her voice when she says, prim, "I'll take your words under advisement." Then she turns to go, reclaiming her shoes and then darting across the bowl, still bare-footed. So there!
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