Logs:Iolene's News
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| RL Date: 1 June, 2012 |
| Who: Iolene, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Just before the hatching begins, Iolene has news for K'del. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 12, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
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| K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug: there are almost always papers spread out across it, some of them important, others more inclined towards the fingerpaintings created by small fingers. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia. Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the antique skybroom desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy. Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels. "She says it's soon." There's an odd mixture of elation and that I-want-to-vomit emotion in Iolene's voice as she scurries from her weyr into this one half-dressed; and by half-dressed, the buttons on the back of her new dress aren't closed up and her hair is a tangled, just showered mess. Io comes to stand in the middle of the room, pivoting on the heels of her feet, with those dark blue eyes seeking K'del, or barring that, at least some signs of reassurance that this, in fact, is how it is supposed to be. "I'm not ready for it to be now." K'del can't help himself: he seems quietly amused by Iolene's reaction, for all that his expression is otherwise encouraging. "It'll be fine," he promises. "The dragons always know. Ysavaeth did. And it's a good clutch, a really good one." He's already mostly dressed, standing not far from the middle of the room as he fiddles with cufflinks, but they get abandoned a moment later so he can cross towards the goldrider, and stand behind her, one hand rubbing own her bare back before he begins to start doing those buttons up himself. "It'll be fine." Each successive stroke to her back elicits a sigh: initially a little wound up but quickly moving into distractibly happy. She's so easy. "But what if I mess up?" As if the eggs hatching have anything to do with her, and Io twists mid-buttoning to look to K'del, hand reaching up to curve about his chin. A more muted worry shades her gaze as she looks up. "What if- what if-, oooh," her eyes close in combination with that last forlorn sigh, "I think I need a glass of wine. Ysavaeth tells me the Lords and Ladies beholden to us are arriving." K'del will even pause in his buttoning to rub her shoulders for a moment, though that stops, too - there are more buttons, and then there's hair, and he's clearly conscious of the time. "You won't," he promises. "All you need to do, Io, is stand on the sands and look pretty. And you're good at that, promise." He drops his head towards her, aiming to press a brief kiss to her mouth before he adds, "You're going to be fine. They're here to celebrate how well Ysavaeth did! Whisky on the sideboard, though, if you really want something." "Mmmm." Full of those little sounds that intimacy allows for more than words, Iolene exhales her mollification between closed lips that aren't quite so kissable as soft, waiting ones. His words and suggestions, however, are seemingly taken to heart as she drifts away, with the top half of her back still exposed towards that sideboard, where one glass is poured out. It's tendered in her hands, back and forth as the curve of her palms heats it up a little, before she's padding back to K'del. "I'm still half-naked," she notes, "And I need to go get my shoes and my hair is a mess and-," she pauses, to half-turn over her shoulder and look again at this man. "Do you really think I'm pretty?" K'del waits, there, in the middle of the room, and finishes up his cufflinks while Iolene fetches that glass. By the time she's back, he's ready to get back to those buttons, his shrug one of easy nonchalance: "We've still got a little bit of time. You'll be fine." From his expression, let's face it: she's not really naked enough. But never mind - there are things to be done. "Of course I do," is his quick, and apparently heartfelt answer. "You're very pretty. C'mon - let me get these done, so you can do your hair." He's smiling, though, as his fingers resume their careful work. Nerves begin to jangle her limbs again, a slow trembling that works hard to stifle itself by clamping onto that glass. But, for the most part, Iolene stands still enough as K'del works those buttons up. "I'm glad you think I'm pretty. Sometimes, I wake up and look in the mirror and I think I might be pretty, and then other times, I don't know if I really am. And some times, when I get up in the middle of the night," which might be the problem concedes a wry note in her voice, "I catch myself in the mirror, and scare myself a little bit. I don't really understand how one face can change to be pretty, and then ok, and then ugly all together. K'del?" The name comes out of nowhere after her long rambling babble. "Do you really think I'm pretty?" Standing behind her, his head ducked so that he can concentrate on those fiddly, fiddling buttons, K'del smiles, visibly amused by that babbling. As he finishes the last button, he presses a kiss down onto her bare neck, promising, his words warm breath against her skin: "I really think you're pretty, Iolene. Always. Do you need me to help with your hair?" Oh those buttons he pushes, the kiss and warmth of his breath at her neck drawing a delighted little giggle. "I- I can manage my own hair. My grams used to braid it in little braids and pinned it up back for me when-," Iolene turns again, draping one arm around K'del's shoulder and pressing that drink into his hand. "I... Do you think, our children will be as pretty as you and me? Will you still think I'm pretty when you can roll me down a hill cause I'm so big?" K'del's expression turns from pleased and amused to steadily more bewildered, as Iolene turns, as that drink is pressed into his hand. He accepts it, wrapping fingers securely around it, and watches her for long moments, brows knitted. Finally - "Is that-- are you saying-- Iolene?" He sounds absurdly hopeful, but in a restrained, not-quite- sure way. "I don't know. I think so," is hardly a reassuring answer to his absurd hope, but a small smile starts to rise up towards pinkened, slightly embarrassed cheeks. Iolene presses her shoulders together, squishing her already narrow frame all the more. "I've missed two now... and sometimes, a lot of times, I miss one, but never two. Well, not that I can remember and the healers think so, but it's still early and... are you sure you think I'm pretty?" This is, apparently, her one hang up on being happy about having children. Forget the glass - K'del casts it aside on a conveniently located surface, using both hands instead to wrap Iolene into an enormous hug. "Of course I think you're pretty. Prettier than ever, maybe; don't even know. I'm so happy." And he really does seem to be - this reaction is not feigned. "Our children will be beautiful, Io. Just wait and see." A moment's taken, just the slightest hesitation, before Iolene's smile deepens and she murmurs, "And Ysavaeth says she's known for a very long time now but didn't think it was for her to tell us. Some joys," the blonde girl takes a longer moment, eyes glazed briefly as if in thought, or communication, "Some joys, she says, a mother should learn on her own. I'm happy if you're happy. I need to finish my hair now though." There's a long beat between those words and Iolene's next, claimed by her steps into K'del's bathing area, where the likelihood of her pins and stuff being seems pretty high. Drifting out from the steam there is: "I hope it's a girl." "She's right," is K'del's opinion, a smiling one. The smile follows Iolene up the stairs and into the bathing room, though K'del stays where he is, running his hands through his hair and positively beaming. "I hope it's healthy," he says in reply. "But I wouldn't mind a daughter. About time I threw more than just boys." Now, he seems unable to stand still, pacing back and forth, reclaiming that glass, sipping, and then setting it back down again. "Nik and Kasey need a younger sister to spoil," says Iolene, her words muffled by pins being held by her lips. But she's silent again; doing hair takes time and concentration. And then- minutes and minutes and minutes later, she emerges, tiny little braids pulled back into some kind of high bun concoction. Her look is more complete with jewelry, a double helix necklace and a a sapphire studded bracelet. "It's time. We'll be late." Never mind the lack of shoes. "You look beautiful," says K'del, foregoing answer to that remark about the children, though it's obvious he agrees, so that he can offer Iolene his arm, and then lead her towards the sands. It's time. |
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