Logs:Dynastic
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| RL Date: 18 March, 2016 |
| Who: K'del, N'klas |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Father-son bonding. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 4, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Chrissi/Mentions, Iska/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, Miravea/Mentions, Pia/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Silva/Mentions, T'gar/Mentions |
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| He's been a rider for a few months on top of a Turn; sixteen for nearly eight months; a wingrider, a real wingrider for not quite a couple months but N'klas isn't counting the days as he bounds up the stairs to his father's quarters. No gitar today, but there's that wing badge, and a grin; his hair's growing out, too, though it can't quite flop over the top as yet. "Hey, you home?" as though Khajith hadn't checked. Cadejoth's up and abroad; this late-season spring flurry is dizzying entertaining to fly in, and who wants to waste that with warmer weather presumably incoming? K'del's in, though, as confirmed by his lifemate, and even waiting for the young bluerider... not at the top of the stairs, perhaps, but safely inside, where there's a fire at the hearth and the remains of a slumber party designed to entertain children aged seven, five and three. "Nik," greets K'del, taking a step forward. He looks a little tired, and his hair is still at that over-long point: he's still not made time for Ali to cut it. Nik has the mad skills of an older-if-not-oldest brother, the sort that let him navigate the rug without actually stepping upon any of the flotsam or appearing to notice the mess to begin with. "There you are," and he goes to clap his father on the shoulder. Khajith's been flying, but only long enough to grab clawfuls of snow and bring it back down to bury loot beneath; the temporary snowlessness had been hard on the blue, but this is better, for the flurries are bound to make his caches seem... natural. At least, to the near-blind green a few ledges away. "Survived?" So-- unless it's a general-purpose greeting-- he had noticed after all. K'del reaches to press his own hand atop of Nik's, just for a few moments, and then laughs. "More or less," as an admission that redolent with exhaustion and a certain amount of relief. "They're great company, mind, but... guess I'm not as young as I used to be." Thirty-seven is, after all, so very old. "Kasey dropped in, though, and that gave me a little bit of a break. How's things, Nik? How's the wing?" That age thing, N'klas doesn't seem to take that seriously at all, spending a roll of his eyes on his father as he slopes off to rummage for food. There's got to be some somewhere, right? That's not little-kid-goo? "Kase, huh," is dubious, like dropping in isn't a surprise but any motives to actually help are. "Yeah, they're good. Wing's good, it's all good," only his smile's smirky like he's got a surprise. "What about yours? I mean, Silva." It's not disparaging so much as amazed even now. K'del makes no move to assist in this hunter-gatherer expedition; he watches, instead, his expression offering no assistance. Still, it won't take too much hunting to dig up the leftover breakfast pastries (not even stale, yet!). Also, an admission: "May've been more 'showed up to say hi and got roped into things' but still. It was helpful, in the end. Silva's doing fine," is, perhaps, tacked on, a few seconds after the rest of it and probably a little exaggerated. "Quinlys wouldn't've let her graduate, if she weren't up to it." Pastries. Worthy of a pumped fist, a circle that isn't quite a dance. Nik's that much more smirky for the clarification, though the view of his mouth's shortly thereafter obscured by what he's putting in it; "That or she just couldn't chase her around anymore." Even at his considerable and still-growing height, he's not so tall that he can't fold himself into a squat and waddle around amongst the furniture. "'Sides, she's not as bad as she'd make out. Pretty funny, really. Would've been fun," no -y, "to have T'gar in the same wing, but at least he's in your wing, and it's not like he and Alpine..." That pastry has fruit on top. It calls. He eats it, fruit first. "T'gar's happy, at least," reflects K'del, showing his own pleasure in this; it must be nice, for someone to actively want the wing one happens to be so closely associated with. "And Alpine seems like a good place for you, too. For now, anyway; that can change. Now you've been graduated a little while... any big plans for what you'll do now? Next?" He crosses away from the hearth, now, but only so that he can fold himself into the couch, lazing comfortably with one socked foot resting upon the edge of the seat. N'klas' chew-laden nod is agreeable enough for all these things; at the question, though, he stands a little too straight before slouching again, with a truly awful job of toning down a grin. "Yeah, a thing or two. You know Chrissi, right?" That other bluerider a class up from his, the one-- all right, one of the ones-- he's cast sheep's eyes at, whom some might have seen wandering around with him and his gitar. Chrissi. K'del positively chokes. "Not that definition of 'do'," he begins... and then trails off. Er. His son isn't getting any less smirky whatsoever. "We're getting weyrmated!" N'klas announces with a grin that gets even wider, and an encouraging gesture: go on, be happy for him! Silence. One beat. Two beats. Three. But the smirk... Blandly; "I'm sure you'll be very happy together. Will you name your first child Lassi?" N'klas is snickering so much. "The Weyrwoman said to repopulate the Weyr," he says-- through the snickers-- all piously. The corner of K'del's mouth twitches, now. "Then you'd better start early. Twins, even. Big families are normal, in this family. And I always wanted to be a grandfather by forty. Start a dynasty, you know?" "Right," snicker, snicker, "a dynasty. What were we supposed to do in the dynasty again?" Because if it's start a line of bronzeriders, N'klas just hasn't done his share. K'del wiggles his big toe. Luckily, there are no holes in his socks (this time) to make it obvious. He considers, now, barely restraining the mirth he so-clearly feels from expressing itself to the exclusion of all else. "Repopulate High Reaches all of our own accord, probably. Guess I should be promoting Miravea about now, preparing you. Recruiting more of your cousins. That sort of thing." "Riiight," just barely doesn't have a break in it, merriment rife in Nik's blue eyes. He slouches more against the couch he's touched down on, not sitting. "Already have an egg in mind for Iska, is she going to Stand here or at Southern? I can work on the cousin thing." "Obviously Iska is going to Impress a queen, like her mother, and--" But K'del can't keep it going, not when it comes to that; it leaves him to shake his head, to close his eyes, and then to say, far more seriously, "You know, right, that all I want for any of you is to be happy? Whatever that ends up being. I was proud of your Impression, but I'd've been just as proud to watch you walk the tables, or anything else, just as long as it was what you wanted." "Shoveling coal?" Nik has to toss out there. "Or maybe a cardsharp, I could've been... no, I could still be that," he says, in their full shared knowledge of just how bad he was and, mostly, still is at anything that requires bluffing. Witness, earlier. "What if I wanted to be a... nanny. T'mic used to be one." This is hypothetical land. It's easy to be supportive in hypothetical-never-going-to-happen land! "Sure," says K'del, easily. "Nothing wrong with being a nanny, if it really is what you want. If... if Iska wants to do that her whole life, fine by me." Liar (probably). "So if Kase--" Nik stops. "Hey, so, you gave me the Supportive Father speech, and good for you," he seems to really be sincere about this as much as he finds it funny. "What's next on the a-gen-da? Want to go flying, let the girls come clean this place up? I bet Cadejoth's in." K'del can probably already think of things he wouldn't support Kasey at (top of the list: whoring himself out at the Lucky Seven at Ista, for example), but that's not a topic for right now, is it? "We have to have an agenda, now?" But-- now that the idea has been put out there, the bronzerider looks considering, then nods. "Cadejoth's always in. Let me get my boots." Does the Lucky Seven like zits? Or just someone claiming to be a Weyrleader's offspring-- but not right now; "It's part of my pre-par-a-tion," Nik tells him, another snicker stealing one of those syllables. "There's this place I know... that girl, Pia? who does the maps? ...anyway, it's got these cool little rivers, only in summertime it's supposed to be all dry and you can walk across it so it's got these plants that the Farmcrafters, I don't even know. So we better check it out now before it is," dry, in the meantime, he'll pocket another pastry for the road. This might be more of an excursion than perhaps K'del had anticipated... but Irianke is back and that's taken some of the pressure off, and, well, why not? "Don't think I know this place," K'del tells his son as he gets himself ready to go. "But I'm in. Lead the way, dynasty generation two." N'klas, laughing, salutes. |
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Comments
Alida (23:22, 19 March 2016 (PDT)) said...
I enjoy seeing K'del this way. ^^
T'gar (17:20, 20 March 2016 (PDT)) said...
This was HILARIOUS. Love it. Want more of these two interacting~
Silva (04:15, 23 March 2016 (PDT)) said...
She will show all if you! Soneday. Maybe. Well... hopefully.
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