Logs:How Are You, Hattie?
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| RL Date: 23 June, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Tess |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tess is just in the Weyr to get something, but she stops in to speak to Hattie before she heads back to the Hall. |
| Where: Weyrleaders' Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aislara/Mentions, Bridget/Mentions, Dimatrin/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions |
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>---< Weyrleaders' Weyr, Fort Weyr >-----------------------------------------<
Just inside and to the right, beneath the vast archway of the entrance to
the Weyrwoman's weyr, lies the doorway to the council room, usually shut
even when occupied. Past this, Elaruth's deep wallow is sunk into the
floor and lined with soft, padded wherhide precisely anchored around its
rim. At the head of the wallow sits a tall tree constructed from various
pieces of smooth, pale driftwood, ornaments in silver, white and blue
hanging from its long, spindly branches. The opposite wall plays host to a
series of brass hooks and fixtures, supporting shelves and providing a
hanging place for coats, straps and other riding gear. The walls here are
washed with a pale blue, tinted just enough to be warm; the promising
light of a pale dawn. The rest of the space here is clearly divided into
two areas: one with a sturdy, meticulously organised desk and twin
bookcases sat on a tan-coloured rug; the other home to a table, and two
matching wooden chairs, as well as two comfortable chairs upholstered in
rich fabric, all set before the hearth.
Beyond the door leading to more private quarters, the walls are painted a
deep cream colour that creates a welcoming light when lit by glows and
hearth. The large hearth lies in the wall to the right, a wide couch and
rocking chair built of pale wood and smooth angles laid out opposite. The
bed lies towards the back of the cavern, quilts and furs spread out or
folded neatly atop it, matching bedside tables on either side. Two tall
fretwork screens create a separate room from one corner of the chamber,
two single cots, a slim wardrobe and low bookcase found within. The most
distant corner is home to the archway leading to the bathing room,
discreetly hidden by another screen, a large, deep pool and stone-carved
shelves home to towels and the like occupying this smaller chamber. The snowfall has brought Elaruth out to her ledge, where she observes winter's encroachment on her Weyr with absolute calm, her blue-eyed gaze flitting from drift to drift, focus occasionally drawn towards those of her children that can be seen in the far distance, or more human children belonging to others, if only because they are some of the most animated. Perhaps she's a sentry too; still, save for the twitching of the tip of her white-gold tail, the woman she watches for less still and sat at the desk within the outer chamber of the Weyrleaders' weyr. The pen in Hattie's hand moves over hide, but her focus isn't there, her dark eyes glazed and distant. She'd arrived earlier on a Fortian green. Tess' visit to her-- well, not home, but sort of still home-- was brief. With a backpack slung over her shoulders, she trudges, wrapped in winter-wear, toward the Weyrleader's Weyr where Elaruth is visible. The decision must have been made beforehand to stop and see the goldrider. A smile offered to the gold as she approaches, "Elaruth," she greets, "Is Weyrwoman Hattie available? I wanted to say hello before I head back to the Hall." The explanation is simple, but a touch of concern flickers across the blonde's face before it smooths back into something pleasantly neutral. Elaruth promptly offers a soft, off-key clatter of sound in greeting as Tess approaches, her attention immediately brought to her - maybe for more than to hold true to guard duty, if it is indeed her task, for she gently noses in her direction, yet stops short of making contact. It could not be a more blatant hope for hands against hide, though she is not invasive, nor demanding in that silent plea. She doesn't speak to answer that enquiry, though a brush of something might be felt against Tess' mind, the touch insubstantial and airy. It's as close to an affirmative as she can manage, and, within the weyr, Hattie looks towards the entryway. Tess's willingness to touch a dragon is always there when it's wanted. Elaruth's desire is obvious enough that she doesn't miss it, reaching out her hands to stroke with inexperienced hands the hide that's offered her. Once the gold has been satisfied, the healer turns inward, careful to take her pack and other snow-layered items where they won't melt messily before coming further in. "Weyrwoman Hattie," she greets with one of her usual smiles. "I was in the area and thought I'd stop by." The assessment her eyes make of the Weyrwoman from where she is is clinical, but with overtones of personal interest. The little queen is content to watch Tess approach the weyr, and makes no move to stop her, soothed by hands or simply that sure that her rider is meant no ill will. When the healer's voice rings through the weyr, Hattie almost immediately moves to get to her feet, through she holds onto the edge of the desk while she steadies herself and blinks her eyes wide for a moment or two. "Tess," is too soft the first time, not loud enough to carry far, and so she clears her throat and tries again. "Tess. I think you can surrender the title for now, you know..." A touch dry with that, as she finally moves from behind the desk. "If Bridget's been telling tales, she has no real right..." Dimples briefly make an appearance in answer to the Weyrwoman's humor. "As it pleases you, Hattie," Tess offers in an answer that's got a touch of impudent teasing of her own. "I haven't spoken with Bridget," is first, "but if you think she's inclined to tell tales, I might have to seek her out before I head back to the Hall to find out what I've missed." There's wry humor in the empty threat. "You could save me the trouble and just tell me yourself," she offers generously as she moves farther into the weyr. "You look tired, but well," there's a pleased tone for the last. "She might be telling all sorts of tales, for all I know..." Hattie's tone bears no clear animosity, however, no matter how she tries to maintain a disgruntled edge as regards the healer she sought out. She only just rounded the desk when she takes a half-step back and sits on its edge, the tailoring of her dress doing much to keep the specific lines of her figure not so obvious. "I would quite happily sleep for most of the day, at the moment," she admits. "And there are probably more mistakes in my hidework than there should be." Being that there are any at all. "But I'll survive. For as long as I have to, anyway." "Bridget? I doubt it," Tess tells Hattie, her smile one of gentle reassurance. She draws closer to the Weyrwoman, eyes searching her face and then taking in the tailoring of the woman's dress. "I don't suppose you could give Lilah your hidework for one day every seven, or to your assistant?" She suggests it without pressure to the question. "I think only very glaring mistakes in hidework has ever killed anyone," she adds with a touch of humor there, before inquiring more genuinely, "Is having Bridget working out for you?" "No." Hattie's rejection of the idea of surrendering her hidework to Lilah even for that day is immediate and sharper than she means it to be. She can't - or won't - look at Tess then, needing a moment to regroup before she attempts to explain, her voice gentled from before. "...She has Eliyaveith and the eggs. They need her more than I do." Gentle, maybe, yet she can't keep it from being a desperate insistence. She gives due consideration to Tess' enquiry about Bridget, guilt plain to be read for a fraction of a second. "Yes," is an easier admittance than: "...They've wanted me off-duty for months. When the eggs hatch... if they hatch... then I'll--" But she doesn't finish that utterance, and instead questions, "Do you know when we're to expect you back?" Tess looks at Hattie all through her reaction, her words, and she must take in a lot more than the average observer. "The courses I'm enrolled in should be finished in the spring." She starts with this because it gives more time for the Weyrwoman to regroup, but she's not finished with the other matter. When she does, she's choosing her words. "Lilah... she's strong and will do her best for you, always." She stops there because that may already be saying too much. "Have you gotten the help you need to manage things until Eliyaveith's eggs hatch? I didn't hear anything in the living cavern about your pregnancy, so I'm assuming you haven't been of a mind to share," the tone is not judgment but observation; the expression say she doesn't blame her. "Good," Hattie murmurs, inclining her head a little. "Lilah will do what she thinks is best," is as far as she can agree on that particular front. "For me? No." She's sure of that, an edge of agitation creeping in. "I've tried to help her and protect her since she Impressed, and because that's involved me saying no a lot to try and defend her from herself and her impulses, I'm the enemy. I'm on her side. I don't know how many times I've told her, but it won't make a difference." Only after all that has come rushing out does she think twice, and she covers her eyes with one hand. "Shit," she mutters. "I shouldn't have--." But she has. And now she attempts to distract. "As many people who can do my job without it looking suspect are doing it. Some things... are delicate. I have to keep them." Tess briefly looks like she might like to say more, to disagree, but instead she inclines her head, yielding to Hattie's opinion of Lilah. "I think..." she begins after a purse of her lips, "that she listened better than you know," but at that the healer must leave it. Instead, she looks pointedly to Hattie's midsection. "Have you had time to mentally prepare yourself yet? Done anything for the arrival of the baby? Or are you still holding your breath?" The questions are pointed, but can one expect less from a mindhealer? The real question here: "Are you allowing yourself hope yet?" "I think she'll believe I didn't tell her about this," Hattie's hand finds her diminishing waistline for the briefest of moments, "because I think she's incompetent or not to be trusted, not that I wanted her to have what Eliyaveith's never clutching robbed her of." It's not so much argument as muttered, near bitter sentiments and assumptions, easily dismissed, given their flat delivery. She swallows hard and gives a twitch of her shoulders. "...Elaruth lost her baby. A friend of mine lost hers. They say things happen in threes, don't they?" The Weyrwoman refuses to look anywhere but the floor. "If I were less selfish, none of this would matter. We could all merrily continue as we were." The healer's retraining must be working to some degree for her expression remains pleasantly neutral and her nod is thoughtful. "Relationships are complicated. I've always imagined it's difficult for leaders, to end up with little say in who their closest co-workers are. It would be much easier, I suspect if any gold egg would listen to the advice of the Senior in whom to choose, or a Lord to choose what part of his seed gets passed to an heir." There's a wry look for that, "My father would've had me more complacent and pliable, I imagine." All this before she approaches Hattie with the intention of gently placing her hands on the Weyrwoman's shoulders. "I think, the world works in mysterious ways and that sometimes things happen that have no reason to them. Elaruth's loss is tragic and it will always be so. Your friend's as well. But you have not lost your baby yet; do not fall victim to thinking it so. Tend to yourself, and to him, or her." She waits a beat, "It is okay to be selfish, Hattie." It's quiet but sincere, in case the Weyrwoman needs to hear it said. "Most people are all the time, you obviously not." The words all but fall out of Hattie's mouth before she can stop them. "I don't dislike her," tumbles free only a little before, "I even love her." Hormones have a lot to answer for right now, but pride wars against them enough to have her insist, "A little." She must be listening, yet she's also too obviously watching Tess approach, wary with the vulnerability she can't seem to rid herself of, though she does not shrug her away and submits to what she must find to be a quelling touch, for she lapses into silence for longer than it should take for her to process and understand, if not believe. She swallows again and blinks her eyes wide once more, if only to guard against tears. "...I need until the eggs hatch," is a mantra she can't let go of. "...And then, maybe, I can be completely selfish." Dwelling on that, she doesn't allow, and it's not so abruptly that she means to make for the hearth. "Stay a while," she quietly invites. "I'll make tea, I'll--" Be useful, the rest mostly unintelligible mutterings to herself. "You could tell me about the Hall..." is louder, then she's carrying on regardless. "No one has said you can't have until the eggs hatch. Bridget is here, and you have other help, you've said. Is it enough to satisfy your sense of duty and responsibility?" Tess' eyes are searching. "There are harpers that can be trusted to do hidework, those who've had turns of service in Weyrs, even. One could be borrowed until you come due," she suggests it gently, letting her hands drop away. "Why don't you tell me where the tea is and let me make you some," Tess makes the counter offer incorrigibly. "And you can tell me about your plans from here, what you need, to do before you can see to yourself first and the Weyr second. I can help you make lists," it's another quiet suggestion, "if you've not got them already." Once the Weyrwoman has acquiesced to Tess' better idea (better than Hall gossip at any rate, though there will be some of that no doubt), the healer is happy to direct the goldrider to a seat, to help her put her feet up and to see to the tea. Priorities! |
Comments
Cass (19:45, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
This whole thing fills me with the greatest anticipation. XD I'm worried, but it's exciting! What's the third shoe?!
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