Logs:Happy Blended Families
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| RL Date: 20 April, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon has a proposal that is going to require some consideration. |
| Where: Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 7, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Raija/Mentions |
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| Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Directly opposite the sharp spikes of the Reaches' characteristic spires lies the bowl's south rim, from above seeming pinched like a baker's pie crust to form this distinctive lip: a soft curve, several dragonlengths long but only four lengths wide before narrowing into impassable crags. It would have to be an apprentice effort, however, given how even the flatter area is riddled with cracks and hollows, dusted with glittery silicate quartz that is far more gritty than sweet. Though the view down into the bowl is commanding, the views beyond it can be absolutely breathtaking on clear days: eternally snow-capped mountains descending to high-altitude meadows and the dark brush of evergreens, and greener valleys beyond even those, with only glimpses here and there of human habitation. But the views come with a risk: the wind can blow hard and strong, and whether looking inward or outward, there is no protection from the precipitous chasms that fall away from these heights. Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. It's not one of their more aerobatically adventurous outings, this one, though Arekoth cannot help but show off, and H'kon, at least in a flight such as this, cannot help but indulge his dragon. It's not a longer flight, either; H'kon has some point of focus throughout all of this, enough so that when Arekoth lands, it's crisp, clean, and (most notably) without flourish. The rim is one of the dragon's favourite places; he's well pleased, it emanates from him, though he does hold his preening or wing-shuffling until his passengers have time to dismount, his rider leading the way. No doubt Madilla will appreciate the lack of adventurous aerobatics, though she does seem to enjoy the flight itself - as long as it lasts. The rim's not a place the healer gets to on her own accord, of course, and so she seems pleased with their destination: after clambering down she has to stop, breathlessly staring out over the Weyr below. "Thank you, Arekoth," she says, without turning her attention back to the brown, or even to his rider. "What a beautiful day." Arekoth begins shuffling his wings, settling them this way, no that way, no this way, and turning his head until he can get the most fierce and impressive profile. Madilla is, certainly, welcome. And also lucky, to have such frequent flights on a specimen such as him. H'kon, too, is looking out across the bowl, and not at the posturing brown. "Clear skies," the man says, half a wry murmur to himself, half an answer to the woman at his side. Poor Arekoth. Hopefully someone will pay him some mind, if not either of his two most recent passengers. Madilla hastily attempts to secure some of the pins in her hair more securely, mindful of the winds that threaten to send the whole lot flying free, and then turns her gaze towards H'kon. "Yes," she agrees, laughing. "Clear skies. But not in the 'farewell' sense this time, I hope. Unless you're intending to sweep me off the ledge." Until she hits the ground with a splat. Maybe that green who's just appeared above the Weyr? Lucky green, to have such a view of him. H'kon might, on another day, have some witty remark about how he could not, in good conscience, deprive the Weyr of its Weyrhealer, or something else. Today, he simply let's the slow beginnings of an awkward smile tug at his face, glancing once to Madilla, and then slowly back down while he shakes his head. "No," is soft, almost round. "I'm glad to hear it," murmurs Madilla in answer, as she reaches out to try and take H'kon's hand in hers. "I suspect I would make a frightful mess." She'll make the jokes for both of them, then, apparently unbothered by the lack of meaty response she earns. "Mmm," is agreement, an upward lift at the end of it that suggests some other smile, actually realised, or only felt. H'kon doesn't turn to Madilla until he feels her hand at his; it's after he's looking her way that his fingers reach back, leading the way for the shift of his arm. It's slow motion, but once he gets hold, he squeezes. Arekoth finally gets to settling into surveying his domain, rather than trying to be surveyed. Madilla returns the squeeze, gently, her own smile warmer and brighter (as is her wont), nearly to the point of being effervescently cheerful. "Are you thinking deep thoughts?" she wonders. "Or just normal every-day ones?" Her free hand brushes over the pins in her hair again, though there doesn't seem to be any cause for alarm: her hair is perfectly secure. H'kon is careful not to take too hard a grip on her; still, he makes the slightest of side-steps, in closer, so he can bring his forearm into contact with hers, more entwined. "Is there such a difference?" comes with a bit of a pulled smile, if not quite the twinkle even H'kon's eyes can get. Sometimes. Arekoth, at least, appreciates it enough to snort at nothing, and look away from the bowl, and down. H'kon gives his dragon little heed, rather, remarking, "You're happy." That, at least, sounds pleased. "Perhaps not for you," answers Madilla, with a teasing lilt to her tone. Her head turns so that she can glance, side-long, at the brownrider, and at their arms so snug against each other. "Mmm. I am happy. I couldn't pin-point any particular reason, but... there it is. I am. Really, why shouldn't I be?" "Mm," back to her. The one syllable that speaks so much. The rider takes a breath, and now glances up. He might catch Arekoth's chin in his periphery. "Content?" Madilla, conveniently, is fluent in most forms of H'konese; she can read everything she needs to into those single syllables. Green eyes meet green eyes. "Yes," she says. "Content. And you?" H'kon looks back at her, looks long, before his eyes move away, out over the bowl again. "See that green, there?" It starts as a jut of his chin. "Feilanth. Sunning." His free hand has raised, though it doesn't point, yet. Such commitment. In answer, Madilla turns her gaze, tracking the angle of H'kon's chin until she can pick out the green (or, at least, a green). "Feilanth," she repeats, shading her eyes with her free hand. "Yes, I see her." "They were with us, at Nabol..." There's a whole path there, mostly unspoken to Madilla, but one that bears thought nonetheless, that makes H'kon pause, if not managing to bring him to a stop. He has started to squeeze that hand more firmly now, his wrist turning in the direction he looks. "Next to her? Over, to the left. A bit down?" Nabol. Nabol is almost enough to turn Madilla's attention from Feilanth and back to H'kon-- almost. Instead, she straightens her shoulders and continues to look, studying the green as if she might be answer, in and of herself. Accordingly, she's able to shift her gaze to follow his directions: to the left and down. "Mmm?" "The weyr's only just emptied." He's speaking more strictly now, a militaristic focus on the point. Arekoth's wings lift once, a motion like a shrug, but with an entirely different feel to it. This time, Madilla does turn her head, studying H'kon's expression in thoughtful silence. Her expression hasn't given much away, except that her mouth has opened, just slightly; perhaps it's enough. "And?" she prompts, carefully. And, "It's bigger." Spoken with certainty, and a nod. "Lower ceiling," is an afterthought that manages to push past his guarding focus. "But you... like your weyr." Madilla knows that much, and while it's probably true that she's put 'a' and 'b' together and reached some kind of conclusion, over this, it's still a point she seems to feel the need to raise. "H'kon." "I do," H'kon confirms with a sharp, brownrider's nod. "And it is our place, Arekoth's and mine only. I'd not give it up," Arekoth may not feel so strongly on any of this, for his relatively silence, "simply for some other weyr to have him go to without me, time and again." There's that edge there, ground sharp, even despite the yelling - and sex - so many nights ago now. Madilla's ebullience has faded, now, and left her with uncertainty to take its place - and a wince that is unmistakably for that sharp-ground edge. That results in a dark flush, as her gaze turns from H'kon and towards Arekoth. "I..." she begins, faltering. Arekoth himself seems content enough, his posture far less rigid than his rider's is becoming. H'kon has managed to keep from crushing Madilla's hand, at least, in all this, his own eyes still trained forward, to that empty ledge. "You should think on this. I have had an advantage in time to do so, over you. And it would affect... near everything." It seems to soothe Madilla, somehow, that Arekoth is calm enough. It allows her to turn her gaze back - this time, back to that empty ledge. "But it would make things easier for you," she murmurs. "Difficult, in other ways, or at least more complicated, but..." She swallows. "I will think on it. You think it best, though, don't you." H'kon's jaw works as teeth bite and work at his tongue, hesitation, admitted to consciously when he turns his head to look over to the woman. "I'm not certain," is softer again, stark contrast to the carefully defined and paced words he'd been using just before. There's almost a flinch for that; strangely, not when he goes on, "But I have loved you, since before that first night. And now, the children." It's an involuntary sigh, when H'kon shakes his head, and looks back to that ledge, better to contemplate the real problem at hand: "I'm not certain what is best, or right." That uncertainty leads to a rough exhale from the healer, though anything she might have said is swallowed back beneath the words that follow it. Her hand squeezes against his once more. "Then," she says, finally. "That makes two of us. I don't know. I just... don't." It's Madilla's turn to glance at H'kon, again, to study his profile. "It's all so complicated." "Huh," H'kon agrees, through closed teeth, but slightly parted lips. He takes a moment or two more, for contemplating that ledge and gathering up his thoughts. "I do not mean this as an ultimatum," comes as he seeks out her eyes again. "I put this to you because you will put them all first. Raija, Dilan, Lilabet." There's an added weight to that last name, the one that concerns him most, logical or not. "In the end, I cannot." A significant nod to his lifemate, who waits placidly, where he can see everything. Maybe it's simpler, up so high. Maybe they're just missing it. "And if this weyr is taken... it will not be the first. And if there are no others... I don't mean to leave." Madilla's eyes don't give away many of her feelings, though they're unflinching in the way they meet H'kon's gaze. For each of the names, she has a nod; for the last, too, a frown. "Arekoth will always come first for you," she says, at length, and in an even tone. "As he should. As he must. And I... I will think about it. This weyr, or the next, or the one after that." Far softer, barely audible above the wind, is her murmured, "Lilabet will very likely be gone, after Turnover." "That is the difficulty." That smile is forced, pained in the truest sense. "I knew it from the start, and yet-" here he is, with his hand and arm still wound tightly with hers. But H'kon once again leaves that to some other segment of his mind as Madilla goes on, but for that barely-conscious shift of his feet, both serving to position him facing her, straight on, and to bring him that much nearer his dragon - who has been part of this at least, and quite undeniably, even for his seeming silence. "She'll not be truly gone, Madilla. She never will be." "You warned me from the start, too." It's nothing more than a statement, left there to hang for a moment before, sucking in a deeper breath, Madilla adjusts her own position just minutely, to meet H'kon's shift. "No, she'll not be gone," she agrees. "But it will be different. For all of us, I think. Change." If, for a moment, she sounds so like her daughter, perhaps she can be forgiven. "We'll make it work. Whether it stays as it is, or whether it changes." If, for a moment, that puts a strange smile on H'kon's face, perhaps the same can be true for him. The next is awkward; even if he was raised by a hugger (and certainly only one), H'kon isn't one himself, and even trying to disentangle his arm and draw the healer into a (brief) embrace is awkward. More so than, "Be happy again. I'd not meant to make you so serious as I am." It may be awkward, but it's appreciated: Madilla's arms wrap about H'kon's shoulders, squeezing just for a moment before they withdraw again. "I'm still happy," she promises, with a low laugh that does seem to support her point. "Serious, but also happy. It's still a beautiful day." And she's still spending it with him (aww). "Hm," is, this time, a convinced syllable. A quick tug to his jacket, and H'kon is recovered from the hug. Enough to tilt his head, give the healer a considering look, and then offer, "We could spend the rest of it with them." H'kon would understand. And by Arekoth's shifting and preparatory stretch of his wings, so would he. Madilla, though, hesitates, turning gaze from brownrider to brown and then back again. Her cheeks are pink, but only barely, and really, that could be simply the result of the wind whipping past them. "I'd like that," she admits. "All right." Their happy blended family awaits. And maybe it's nice enough they can go to the lake or something, and Arekoth can play too. (Aww.) |
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