Logs:Distractions
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| RL Date: 24 January, 2014 |
| Who: Ali, N'dalis |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ali is proddy, and in need of distractions. Dal is there to help! |
| Where: Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr / Waystation, Somewhere |
| When: Day 22, Month 11, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'rov/Mentions |
| The low buzz of a dozen different conversations fills the Glass Fountain, this afternoon - business is steady, if not booming, most of the booths containing at least /one/ person, if not several. Dal's in one of them, with a beer in one hand and a book in the other; he's alone, though the mostly-empty plate across from him, the one hinting at melted ice cream, suggests that perhaps he hasn't been for all that long. For now, however, he's reading peacefully, with an expression of intensity. It's been a pleasant day, but not /hot/, and yet there's beads of sweat on Ali's forehead as she steps into the Fountain. That may have something to do with Isyath, circling high above but /visible/, with the glow of her hide, from all over the Weyr. She hesitates, in the entrance; a couple of Flint riders appear to wave her over, and while she /notices/, the junior visibly alters her path to avoid them, instead heading for N'dalis, as soon as she spots him. Normally she's polite enough to ask to join first; today, she slides into the other side of the booth wordlessly, leaning forward to try and catch sight of the book's title. Dragon> To Fort dragons, Isyath's visible, drifting high above in the skies, the glow of her hide noticeable, though more notable to the dragons of the Weyr is the sensation of intent heat she shares, a low-grade, constant sensation like an irritant in the back of the mind. The book is someone's collection of notes on weyrlingmastering, cheaply bound, and though Dal obviously finds it interesting, it's not /so/ interesting that he can't immediately tear his gaze away to lift it towards his new tablemate. His surprise is evident, but quickly recovered from: "Just preparing myself," he explains. "As best I can. Are you...?" Okay? Maybe. There's an abrupt look of-- not /sympathy/, but perhaps quiet empathy, in his expression, the corner of his mouth twisting upward somehow wry. Dragon> The autumn sun is very pleasant upon Suraieth's freshly oiled hide, and inclined to make her sleepy, though actual sleep seems to be more difficult in the face of Isyath's presence. Suraieth attempts to cool that heat, gentle waves lapping in her thoughts, though there's a knowing satisfaction to her, too. Yes. /Yes/. (To Fort dragons from Suraieth) "Don't worry, she's not- it's not today. Tomorrow, maybe. Day after." Ali's acutely aware, for once, of the expression on N'dalis' face and what it means; the junior exhales slowly and pushes damp hair away from her face. "It's good that you're- preparing. I-" and she's distracted, like that, looking away across the fountain as someone crosses the floor. With a shake of her head, she refocuses on N'dalis. "I heard- Suraieth-" she exhales. "Was it... okay?" It's probably not a conversation she'd initiate, if she weren't looking for a distraction from other distractions. "I'm not worried," promises N'dalis, with a fractional increase to his smile. "For my sake, anyway. But you're... you're doing okay?" He's well aware of her distraction, and though he doesn't turn his head to follow her gaze, he's probably aware of others in the bar, too. "It was... fine. For us. Not so for some of the chasers," which draws an unhappy shadow to his expression, "and I think that was partly her fault. We-- wanted them to fight over us. Which is awful." And clearly makes him uncomfortable. That earns a quiet chuckle: she's not /un/aware, and the fact that the goldrider is sitting with a greenrider is perhaps pointed. "I'm- it's hot in here. But I know that's not really-" Ali exhales, trying to catch the eye of one of the bartenders. "You'll drink with me?" statement, not question, made on the heels of his statement. She's quiet for a beat, "I- I had a theory. But I'm not sure if I should-" she's frowning, gaze distant. Dragon> It's not as if Isyath shies away from that cool- just the opposite, in fact- she seeks to wash Suraieth in the distracting heat of her thoughts, to eradicate that spot of coolness, to make everything in the Weyr just /so/. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) "A theory?" prompts Dal, whose short nod is answer to her not-a-question all the same. He's comfortable enough in his role as protector-of-proddy-goldriders to easily ignore anyone who /might/ be staring at them; instead, he leans his back against the chair behind him, and finishes the last of his current beer. Dragon> To Fort dragons, Suraieth has no power against Isyath's heat when targeted so: her waters warm, correspondingly, issuing steam through her thoughts in a way that nonetheless seems to please her. Let it burn, then. Let it all burn. Ali is perhaps not so easily adept at ignoring those watching; her gaze darts around, to that group of Flint's riders, then some Hematite with a notable frown. When the bartender finally comes, she asks for Bollian wine, "the best", which is the closest thing to her expertise when it comes to drinking. It's only once he's gone that she says, "About- well. It feels like the flights we've had recently have been- more violent. And I wonder if that's a- a reflection of the Weyr's mood. With everything that's been happening- dragons don't /remember/ but they feel, and if they remember those feelings even if they don't know why..." Dragon> The heat of Isyath's thoughts doesn't linger overlong on Suraieth: after all, compatriot or not, the gold's attention span is limited, even to a daughter. Her focus retreats as she returns attention to the skies, though the distracting, irritant heat that spreads across the Weyr remains a fixture. (To Suraieth from Isyath) N'dalis' swallow is an audible one, in the wake of Ali's theory, his expression abruptly far more serious. His fingers play upon the cover of his book, which gets slid out of the way, off to one side of the table. "I hope not," he says, firmly and seriously. "Though it makes a good deal of sense, given... givens. I /hope/ Isyath's flight breaks that trend. Surely it's time we start pulling things back together, being positive. Two clutches to come should be a positive thing. For /Fort's/ sake." "Issy isn't- normally given to it," Ali says, carefully. "She's more interested in /flying/ than- destroying." But the fact that she's saying it suggests she's worried all the same, not to mention the way her fingers cross and recross, fidgeting unconsciously. The latter, at least, makes her smile: "I've missed them," she admits, "Having weyrlings around. It feels like a long time since you were one." The bartender returns with bottle and two glasses - and two smaller glasses of some dark liquid, "From the men across the way", setting it all down on the table before retreating. The junior's frowning at the latter, glancing over there. If she's worried about giving the wrong idea, well- she forgets in that moment, reaching for the nearest and downing it in one hit. The fact that she coughs, after, cheeks flustered, suggests she's hardly used to such strong alcohol. "It /has/ been a long time," puts in N'dalis, with a smile. "She's only a few months short of two turns." His smile fades into a frown, too, at the arrival of the liquor; his turn towards the riders at the other table happens a few seconds after Ali's, and has him delivering a searching glance: /really/? It only lasts a moment, and though he winces at her cough, he does no better when he downs his own serving. "Yikes," is his opinion. And, "Perhaps Elaruth can attempt to soothe dragons, in the lead-up? I don't know how that works, but until she has to leave? Maybe? Just in case." It takes a moment or two for Ali to recover, and she's reaching for the bottle to pour some. It's a sweet white, fruity and refreshing: she lifts her glass towards N'dalis in a silent toast. It's good for soothing away the afterburn of whatever was in those shot glasses, and it's also cooling enough that the dark-haired woman presses the glass against her forehead for a moment. "I- I wouldn't want to take the chance. I seem to recall she did once, for one of the flights. It made Issy- upset. She thought Elaruth was trying to take them from her." Chewing her lip, she admits in a quiet voice, "All I can do is... try and keep her focused, but- she never- she never listens to me." N'dalis also cleans off his palate using the wine, and seems relieved for it; it gets a second sip, and then a third, before he actually sets his glass down again. "Oh," he says. "No, of course. I hadn't thought of that. It... I couldn't keep Suraieth focused, either. I knew her logic wasn't quite right, but I /was/ her, somehow. It felt like it. It was confusing. I imagine a queen would be... even more difficult." His gaze drops towards his glass as he adds, "In any case, I really do hope it goes for the best. No injuries, no... difficulties. They'll be on the sands at the same time, won't they?" The wine is a good choice- apparently 'the best' really is quite pleasant and goes down smoothly in Ali's case, too. She's probably not even aware she's had half the glass while she contemplates N'dalis' words, lips twisting in sympathy. "You and her- I have no comparison to say if it's stronger or not with a queen, but I'd imagine it's hard for everyone. Especially the first time. I heard it was a High Reachian blue?" It seems strange that Ali would keep track of such things, except, "I imagine the Weyrleaders wouldn't have been pleased." Something between a laugh and a grimace, before all mirth fades. "Yes. I- don't know how that will work, on the sands. Elaruth's protective, and Issy's-" she doesn't say 'not' aloud, though it's probably implied all the same. "I guess we'll work it out." A nod confirms Ali's mention of the High Reaches blue. "Ilicaeth," he says. "Alida is the rider. It-- there were a /lot/ of High Reachians there. I didn't expect that. I think it was coincidence, though. And the violence," he's talking quickly, now - fervently, "it wasn't really their fault. No more than anyone else's." N'dalis bites his lip, swallows, and then reaches for his glass again. "Perhaps Elaruth's protectiveness will make up for it. Perhaps it will make it easier, for Isyath?" There's definitely something visibly concerned in Ali's gaze as the greenrider mentions a lot of High Reaches riders, and though it's obvious in her expression, she takes a deliberate drink of her wine as if to prevent immediate comment. After a pause, "As long as they- didn't hurt you. Or Suraieth." Her tone is sharp, protective where Isyath is not. More beads of sweat dot her forehead, and she reaches up a distracted hand to brush it away. "I- I'm not sure. It's hard enough keeping Issy on the sands at the best of times. And it- it will matter, who the sire is, too." There's deep laughter from a group of residents and riders that makes the dark-haired woman turn to watch them intently, biting her lip distractedly. "No," says N'dalis, quickly. "They didn't hurt us." His gaze has lifted again, watching as Ali wipes the sweat from her forehead, only to turn away to follow her gaze, and the laughter. He's silent for a few moments, just watching, before he turns back. "I hope she gets the very best of sires," he says, quietly fervent. "Though I genuinely believe that it would be difficult to top the dragons she made with Vhaeryth." There's just the faintest hint of a smile about the corners of his mouth, as he says that. "How is your daughter?" "Good," Ali exhales, relieved, the answer drawing her gaze back. She reaches for the bottle, intending to top up both their glasses: his first. The mention of Vhaeryth makes her smile. "Shh, don't let that get out. It'll go to his head, both of their heads, and they're /big/ enough already. I'm surprised N'rov fits through doors as is," there's a fond laugh, here, though it fades, oddly, as he mentions her daughter. "I- she's well. But I- I think I'll send her to stay with her father, while- while we're on the sands. Issy'll need all my attention, and I-" she bites her lower lip, before sucking in a breath and reaching to gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of the wine. "How did you manage, being away from your son?" N'dalis's expression twists and twitches in answer to Ali's comment on N'rov. "Vhaeryth upset Su something terrible, during the flight. I don't-- remember what it was. I--" his own mirth has already faded, answering Ali's seriousness as she speaks of her daughter. He exhales, and takes a long drink before he can answer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "It seems like a sensible thing to do, but... it's hard, so hard. I hate how much time in his life I missed. I wrote letters that my parents could read to him, but it's not the same, and your girl, she's so much littler. He'll bring her to visit, I hope?" Ali's expression twists, frowning. "What did he-" but she trails off, grimacing in sympathy; the lack of memory is apparently not a point she wants to pursue. While he speaks, she nurses her drink, taking little sips, listening intently, though not undistracted by nearby cheering, drawing her gaze momentarily. "I don't want to- miss out. She'll be walking soon, I think, and I-" she exhales. "It's the sensible thing to do," she echoes, though admittedly doesn't sound all that happy about it. "And yes, I'm sure he'll get the chance- he visits whenever he can." There's a warmth in her voice, now, as she adds, "I know he'll love the opportunity to spend more than a few hours here and there with her. Is it silly though, that I'm jealous of that thought?" "Not at all silly," murmurs Dal in answer. "I was jealous of my parents, even though I /chose/ to go. But your daughter... she's lucky she has both of you, lucky that even when you can't look after her, her father can. It's just a pity you don't both live here; I guess that would make it easier." His expression is full of sympathy, and a small, barely-there wistfulness that he hurriedly attempts to blink away. "It was hard enough, for me, to have to stay away from Jay while Su was glowing. After the first day... I knew I couldn't. It wasn't fair to him. I don't think I could do a long period again." The goldrider's clearly not normally a big drinker, though it's hard to tell if the growing pauses are due to the distraction of Isyath as much as the alcohol. "If I- I thought he'd even consider moving, I'd have- asked," Ali confesses, leaning forward as if confiding in him. "But he has- he's tied so much into his Weyr as I am here that I- I wouldn't dare ask." The latter makes her bite her lower lip, and then, as some clapping begins across the room, she looks. "I'd like to go dancing," she confesses, abruptly, before glancing back to N'dalis. "Some other place where they don't know who I am. Would you and Suraieth take me?" She /looks/ like she's serious. For this, too, N'dalis has genuine sympathy, and something that suggests it's a difficulty he's not unfamiliar with, somehow. Murmuring, "We were lucky. I wasn't tied to Fort, and Ellie... I always knew I'd go where she was. I'm--" He breaks off, frowning as he considers her abrupt request. A pause follows, but not a long one. "If Isyath won't mind," he says, then. "We'd be happy to," is rather firmer. "Issy has her distractions," Ali says, although between /now/ and /when it happens/ might be a different story. His firm answer has her beaming, reaching for the bottle. "This was good. We should take this, I think," as she stands, looking at him expectantly. Then, as if belatedly remembering: "Shall I- find some flight gear and meet you in the bowl?" That beam has N'dalis smiling in answer, even if /his/ is, as is usual for him, less bright, though still clearly genuine. "It was good," he agrees. "Is good." He gathers up his book, rising to his own feet, and confirms: "Yes. We'll be out there presently. Su's no longer trying to nap, so-- I'll just get her straps and things organized, and we'll be ready to go." The way Ali carries the bottle - at the top, kind of carelessly - suggests she's not much of a drinker. "I'll see you soon," she says, her path out of the bar tracked with casual interest from some. Isyath continues to circle above, occasionally stretching out to pull this-or-that dragon in to fly with her, seemingly unbothered when the junior emerges into the bowl, wearing a dress more suited to dancing and pulling a thick, fur cloak around her as she casts about for N'dalis or his green. N'dalis hangs back for a few seconds after Ali's departure, keeping a careful eye on those who've tracked the goldrider; if he means something by it, it's not obvious. It's a few seconds after Ali's arrival when Suraieth wings her way down, properly strapped up and bearing her rider. Dal's changed his clothes into something nicer, and wears his riding jacket on top, and has even splashed some water through his hair to tidy it up. "Your ride," he greets Ali, uplifting the corner of his mouth again, as Suraieth gives a low hum of her own. There's a fond touch of the green's hide, Ali glancing upwards and murmuring, "Thank you, both of you." She pauses to make sure her cloak is tied tight enough before she begins the climb, doing it somewhat awkwardly- she's probably used to doing so on her larger dragon. Eventually she manages to get settled behind N'dalis, reaching for the straps. "Do you know- where?" Dragon> That simmering, ever-present heat spikes for a moment, Isyath stretching again for her daughter, quizzical and intent: not angry, not yet, but like she's on the verge of it. « Suraieth. » (To Fort dragons from Isyath) Dragon> To Fort dragons, Suraieth, equipped with a logic all of her own, sends a wash of gentle water towards the queen, letting her thoughts reach out to all of Fort's dragons. « Isyath? I will take good care of her. /We/ will. It is no theft. » N'dalis' expression holds sympathy for the awkwardness, while his cheeks hold a blush: perhaps he's remember - in snippets, at least - his own awkwardness in attempting to mount a much larger one. "You're very welcome," assures Dal, who stops just before he can answer that question, his face abruptly showing a frown as Suraieth's muscles tighten beneath them. Ali's hands slip around N'dalis' middle, a gesture that is not awkward- at least not on her part- as she settles against his back. He might feel a slight tension in her posture- it's not the first time she's flown on another's dragon, but perhaps Isyath's sudden interest is the cause- exhaling as they fly aloft. Her queen is there, above them, circling downwards in a tight spiral- but she levels out, and eventually starts to climb again moments after he can hear a breath of relief from his passenger. Dragon> Intent, for a moment, Isyath's focus wavers, and finally dissipates, whether at the assurance of Suraieth, or that of her rider. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) N'dalis drops one hand to press it to Ali's, just for a moment, which is the only physical response he seems to make-- except for the exhale that echoes hers as Isyath begins to climb again. Suraieth lets out a satisfied-sounding rumble, and then, without warning, she's ducking between - appearing, seconds later, above a green-hilled landscape, a well-lit waystation bar nestled into the countryside. It's later here, well after dark, and, as Suraieth drops to a landing, a distant melody is just barely audible upon the breeze. "She's okay?" Dal confirms. By habit, Ali holds her breath between, exhaling only once they appear. It doesn't seem like she recognizes where they are, casting this way and that to try and identify the place as Suraieth lands. "She's okay," the dark-haired woman assures, smiling as she reaches to undo her straps. "She's easily distracted in this mood which is both- good and bad." She slips, carefully, to the ground, moving a step away as she reaches to take off her cloak, head cocked, listening. "Is this near Peyton?" she guesses. N'dalis, following the goldrider to the ground, answers her guess with a smile. "Further east than that. We've been here a few times... I enjoy listening to the music. I've always liked music." Suraieth leans her head down to blow a gust of warm, meaty breath onto her rider, who grins up at her. Then, turning back to Ali, he offers her his arm. "Shall we? I promise, there's no one here to recognize you. People don't ask questions, here. In my experience." "Me too," Ali agrees, of the music, threading a hand into the crook of N'dalis' arm. "It sounds like the perfect place to go. I'll have to- remember it." She keeps pace with him as they walk inside, head twisting this way and that- but it's the music that has her attention, her pace unconsciously adjusting to the beat of it, a flickering smile appearing. With another sidelong glance at N'dalis, she's practically dragging him along- forget decorum; she's anonymous here and the music is catchy. That enthusiasm makes Dal grin, the kind of smile that's usually so rare in him; he pauses only to remove his jacket and hang it over the back of a nearby vacant chair, and then, apparently perfectly happy to be dragged, he joins Ali upon the floor. "It's easier, for me," he murmurs. "to come elsewhere, to... do this kind of thing. I'm not sure why. It's not as though I'm a public figure." "It's- freeing," Ali says, enthusiastically, as she finds a free space for them. "Sometimes I- go and pretend to be someone else for a little while. Issy thinks it odd but she indulges me." The mention of her dragon doesn't pull lines of uncertainty across her features at the moment so much as /joy/- she's tapping out the beat for a moment as she reaches for N'dalis' hands with the intention of joining in on the lively tune's jig. N'dalis is not a /great/ dancer, but it's obvious that he's had some practice, somewhere along the way, and at worst, he's an /enthusiastic/ one. "I can't blame you for that," he tells her. "I think I'd do the same, if I were... in your position. It's easier to just... /be/, here. With the music. I don't know that Su understands, either, but if it makes me happy, it makes her happy." Enthusiasm, Ali can definitely work with- she's not nearly as focused as she normally is, so there's a few missteps on her part here and there, but it doesn't dim her energy in the slightest. "That's how Issy feels about it, too," she replies, with a pleased smile. "She likes it even better when I dance with fire-" except the second it's out, she regrets it; there's an alarmed expression, and she sucks in her breath, pausing in the dance long enough to catch his eye. "Except- you can't /tell/ anyone about that." /Fire/. It widens Dal's gaze, but only for a moment: Ali's alarm, and the words that come after it, have him hastily nodding, pressing one hand to hers to reassure: "Of course not. I wouldn't say a word. Won't. It's--" he attempts to recover the thread of conversation, carefully, "I like it, when the things we do can make each other happy, even when we don't understand it. It... made it easier, less scary, going into her flight." The alarm fades by measures, and it's with an exhale of relief that Ali picks up the dance, though perhaps longer still before she does the same for the conversation. "I think that's what- works, in the end. Why I struggled so much at the start- struggled to understand and make her behave the way I thought was the right way, not her way." A grimace follows, then a wry laugh, "Took me time to realize her way /is/ the right way, as far as she's concerned. I'm," a sudden smile, "Glad you and Suraieth have found your balance." "I don't always understand her," admits N'dalis, though his smile is unerringly fond. "But... I think we have. I hope so. I mean... yes. I'm glad that you two have, too. You are... happy with how your life has turned out, aren't you?" His head tilts to the side, just barely, as he asks that question; something in his expression suggests intensity, though his tone itself is mild. "I- yes." Ali exhales, as if surprised and pleased with her own conclusion. "If you had- asked me a couple of Turns ago, I might've said I wasn't so sure. I'd always wanted children, but-" she's smiling, breathless at the dance as much as the thought of her daughter. She doesn't bother to /explain/, since N'dalis has Jay. "Issy never understood that part of me. She's- she's different." That Ali is pleased makes Dal smile all over again, reducing that intensity until there's nothing more than pleasure: at the dance, at the conversation, perhaps at life in general. "But now you have Iska," he concludes. "And that changes everything. It does, doesn't it? Su-- I'm glad Jay was here before her. I'm not sure how she'd deal with it, now." He's silent, for a moment, perhaps focusing on his steps. But then: "I'm glad you're happy." If Ali were more aware, perhaps she's pick up on that silence, perhaps provide some useful advice. But she's distracted by a group of people nearer the bar, glancing their way every time the turn of the dance allows her a glimpse of them. "Let's get a drink? I'm afraid I- forgot to bring the bottle. I don't even know where I- left it." She's shaking her head briefly as if dismissing the momentary lapse. "I'm sure it'll be a pleasant surprise, when you find it again," teases N'dalis, whose nod accepts her suggestion, and whose steps lead the way towards the bar. "I don't think we'll find anything quite so good here, though, but at least none of it is /terrible/. What do you want?" There's something in his tone that says, firmly, that this is /his/ treat. "Maybe something hidden under a counter or on a dusty shelf? Surprise me." Ali rests her fingers briefly on N'dalis' shoulder, but not for long. She's not far away, but she's busy inspecting all the other patrons, probably not even aware she's doing so. N'dalis /may/ be aware of what she's doing, but if so, he makes no comment on it; his glance lingers in the goldrider's direction for a few moments, and then turns to the barkeeper, with whom he shares a low-toned conversation. Evidently, they come to some kind of an agreement, because two glasses of red wine appear upon the top of the bar, and an exchange of marks follows. Offering one to Ali, Dal says, "I'm /told/ this should be reasonable. I don't know much about wine, though." Chewing her lower lip distractedly, Ali's fixed on a handful of men playing some sort of dice game in the corner. It's like she's forgotten for a moment N'dalis exists until he's there offering her the glass, at which she looks pleased. "I don't either," she admits, "But I don't drink much." Except now, when she's gulping down a mouthful, making a little face that is probably not a reflection so much of the choice as it is of the taste in general. "Should we play, or dance?" she wonders, nodding towards the game-in-progress. N'dalis gives his wine a cautious taste, and then a second one, his reaction to it rather more muted than Ali's - it's more like a shrug, really. His gaze follows Ali's towards the game, or perhaps it's the men playing the game; he hesitates. "I don't play, myself," he admits. "But I'm not adverse to watching, if that's what you'd like to do." Either way, he's clearly not letting her too far out of his vicinity, just in case. Well, given the choice- Ali chooses the dice, for now- drawn over there by the laughter and cheering. While there are small sips of the wine, she's more focused on those around her- getting some guidance from the locals before taking a turn at throwing the dice. For a few rolls she's the good luck charm, but then a few later, she's less so- and when that happens it's time to dance again. Eventually, it's Isyath that calls them home- a want for her rider to be /here/, with her. |
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