Logs:Do-Gooders with Guilty Consciences
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| RL Date: 21 July, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, N'dalis |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dee runs into the |
| Where: Nursery, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jaymin/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Nasci/Mentions, Natlie/Mentions |
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>---< Nursery, Fort Weyr >---------------------------------------------------<
A solid wooden door keeps most of the noise that the Weyr's younger
children make contained in the little warren of caverns that make up the
nursery. The main cavern serves as a playroom, its walls smoothed and
brightly painted to mimic a sunny day outside, lending the space a cheery
aspect. Stone shelves are staggered at various heights around the walls
alongside free-standing wooden cubbies to make things easy to reach for
both children and adults. These hold both supplies and toys tucked into
baskets for easy play and pickup.
Beyond the main cavern are several smaller caverns that serve as sleeping
spaces for both the children and nannies on duty. At the end of the
corridor is the head nanny's office with a desk, chairs and filing
cabinets containing records about each of the Weyr's kids. Brightly
painted clay figures and hand casts decorate the walls: memorabilia of
children past. "You came!" is a chorus of excited squeals as the a certain brunette makes her way with trepidation into the playroom. Dee's hands are quickly caught up by kids only too happy to drag her to the story corner and tug until she plops down among them. It takes less than a second for Dee's knees to become occupied with a third little trying to wedge himself in between the other two, while a handful of others about six to eight turns old settle close around. "I promised, didn't I?" Dee's smile appears, a little muted but bemused nonetheless, as if this sort of reception is novel. "What's she like?" sighs one of the girls in obvious hero worship that has Dee's modest expression cast with the pink of a blush. "Well, she's smart and thoughtful and kind and--" "Everything a queen should be!" One of the others declares before her giggles make a fit for the lot of them to get lost in, Dee included. The conversation goes on this way, with the teen getting in her fare share of questions that proves her knowledge of the creche hasn't waned in the months since Impression. She might be tempted to stay longer, here where it seems easy for her to just be without the pressures of everything that happens outside of this room, but it's snacktime soon enough and with promises procured by the children that she'll return to visit soon (sooner than this last time, they make certain) the bunch is herded by the patient nanny while Dee is left to put away the abandoned toys, each to their proper (or as close to as she can sort) place. With an odd sweep schedule this seven, Dal's been making up for his evening absences by spending time with his son during the day; for the moment, Jaymin's not so old that he resents the imposition into his life, and truthfully, gold dragons have far less appeal for him. Thus, he's returning the boy just in time for snacks... and in time to see Dee there, and to hover. They've never spoken; this time, though, he seems reluctant to simply walk away. It doesn't take as long as Dee might like to put away the toys and truthfully, she looks around the floor twice for any strays she might have missed before resigning herself to rising. It's as she turns that she sees the greenrider, hovering. "Oh," is surprise but she blinks away the surprise into a thoughtful look at him. "Oh, you're Jaymin's dad, right?" It's only after she inquiries that she thinks to move toward him into a more conversational range. Dal's skin is dark enough that the pink of his flush is only barely visible, but there it is: he presses his lips tightly together, frozen in silence for three beats before he agrees, "Dal. N'dalis." His hands clasp awkwardly behind his back, shoulders tight as he adds, "And you're Dee." For this, too, he seems embarrassed; because she's so easily recognized, these days? Perhaps. It must be difficult for Dee too, to be so readily identified, and she raises a hand to self consciously tuck too short locks behind her ear; they'll never stay. The hand moves to salute, though not so formally as all that. "Sir," she offers respectfully. "It's nice to put a face with the stories Jaymin's told." She knits her fingers together in front of her, nervous energy directed into the twist of them. "Are you here--?" She glances in the direction the children went, leaving him to finish the question as he likes before she looks back. "Dal," says the greenrider, hastily, drawing one hand back to his side, fingers tensed against the fabric of his trousers. "I'm no sir. It's... I was just returning Jay. I've evening sweeps, and I would hate not to spend some time with him." For his boy, he has a rare smile, though there's something uncomfortable, still, in the way he stands. "Congratulations on your Impression. He's mentioned you, too, in passing. You're well?" The way he studies her expression, perhaps he knows otherwise. "Dal," Dee agrees with a slight smile that grows as the older man speaks of his son. It vanishes in the face of the rest. "Thank you," has a stutter to it, though she must have had this much of the conversation times uncountable by now. "I didn't expect it. I'm-- doing my best," is as close to an answer as she manages. "Did you expect it? When you Impressed?" is probably as much an attempt to redirect the conversation as genuine interest, for both her unease and her curiosity are there in her expression. Quietly, but with firmness: "I believe you are. You care; that much is certainly obvious." And there's sympathy there, too, despite the obvious reserve and hesitation in the man's expression. "Did I... I don't know that I expected anything. But with Su and I, it was..." Instant. Perfection, too, perhaps, given that abrupt shift in his expression, so soft and satiated. There's a touch of wistfulness as Dee looks at him when he speaks of Suraieth, but stronger is the obvious pleasure on his behalf. "That sounds wonderful," for him, perhaps even vicariously for her. It might be testament to his correctness: she does care, and deeply. "Taeliyth cares, too. She-- has sort of a strange way to show it, but she's trying, too." She presses her lips together, "We're--" She can't seem to find the words, so she awkwardly settles for, "trying. I'm-- I'm sure Taeliyth would value the opportunity to speak with Su if she ever wants to." She can at least try to make that much connection on behalf of her lifemate. N'dalis opens his mouth, plainly about to say something... and then stops. Swallows. "Su would be delighted, I'm sure," he says. "She enjoys new experiences." New dragons. New things. His tongue moistens his lips, lingering there for a few seconds more. "Is..." Pause. "Is Nasci doing okay? I know she was struggling, too." Now, his gaze slides away from the weyrling, but perhaps it's only to focus on the toys. They're no doubt very relevant. That Dee's breath catches and locks inside her chest is visible along with the tension suddenly in her frame. The worry married with the concern in her expression tells as much as her words when she manages them: "She was with Weyrwoman Lilah all day, a few days past. Cried when she got back and the-- the weyrlingmasters are being very attentive," the way she says that makes it sound like she's not sure if it's for Nasci's good or-- something else. She swallows, "None of us have been able to talk to her more than about lessons." She looks away briefly, controlling whatever feelings she has about being unable to help, or really to speak with the blueriding weyrling. "Your a friend of hers?" She asks, looking back to the greenrider. "I..." But Dal trails off, and for a man not prone to expressiveness, there's certainly some sense of guilt, now. "We've spoken. I understand how difficult it can be, to be a parent, and a weyrling, at the same time. She feels... she was upset, recently." Did he know about her trip to see the Weyrwoman? It's difficult to tell. Dee's eyes close for a long moment. "I wish--" She starts, the effort of holding in whatever she's holding in evident in her pained expression. "I just wish I could make things easier for her. For Natlie, and her family." It's on the word family that her voice breaks and she has to pinch tight her own eyes, and press her lips in an attempt to quit them quivering. "I'm sorry. This isn't--" She looks up to the ceiling, but a couple tears escape anyway and her hands brush across her cheeks. "I should go. I'm sorry, Dal." Her apology doesn't sound like it's for the tears so much as everything else that's so much worse, as she shifts her weight, ready to flee-- waiting only for some sign of dismissal. "I know," is what he says, and he sounds utterly miserable in the process. A wave of his hand is all he has by way of dismissal; words fail. |
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