Logs:Like It Never Happened
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| RL Date: 16 April, 2014 |
| Who: K'del, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del and Tayte chat for the first time in a long time. |
| Where: Courtyard, Benden Hold |
| When: Day 16, Month 7, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Pleasant |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Iska/Mentions, Jeyli/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Courtyard, Benden Hold Since Tayte's departure from the Weyr, Tayte's presence has been lacking when K'del is arriving to pick up Yvalia. It could be that she really does happen to be busy in all of those times in all those months, but more likely it's that she'd said she needed some time when she was looking with K'del with her hurt eyes the day after her second daughter was born. But Yvalia was always there with escort and figurative bells on to see her father. On this sunny afternoon, however, it's not the six turn old but the twenty-eight turn old blonde, babe in arms, waiting to greet K'del in the courtyard. Tayte has a reserved smile for the bronzerider, though her approach is somewhat shy. Yvalia is nowhere to be seen, but that's swiftly explained in her first words. "Sorry, I know you were expecting Vali, but Jeyli stopped by unexpectedly and--" The hurried explanation is quickly becoming a ramble, which the blush touching Tayte's cheeks says she recognizes, and instead of rambling on she ends with, "Anyway, they'll be back soon, if you don't mind waiting?" K'del, as is his wont, hasn't pushed... though he's always returned Vali with instructions to pass on his regards to her mother (if phrased in language that's better suited to delivery by young child). Today, there's something hesitant in the bronzerider's expression once he and Cadejoth are close enough to pick Tayte out, and it's something that doesn't fade even when he's clambered down and approached the vintner. "It's fine," he promises, quickly, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. "Got some time. How... how are you, Tayte? And the baby?" If Tayte had empty arms, she'd likely be a mirror of K'del, at least in posture. But her arms are full of baby. Tahvra has decidedly grown since the day of her birth, the last time the bronzerider would have seen her, and she might be a different child altogether. The very blonde hair is gone and starting to grow in a light ash brown, though blue eyes have weathered the changes, if lightened from their original slate hue. "I'm tired," Did he expect a different answer? Quickly, the crafter tacks on, "But well. And busy. And the baby... Well, see for yourself?" Her tone lifts with uncertainty even as practiced arms shift to transfer the Very Awake seven month old to K'del. A peace offering, perhaps? It would be unlike K'del to resist the siren-song of a small child, and nor does he, this time: he's equally practiced in the way he takes the baby, carefully supporting her head as he turns his attention from the vintner to the baby. "Hello, Tahvra," he says, in a low voice. "Pretty sure you're twice the size you were last time I saw you, hmm?" Blue eyes sliding back up towards Tayte, he watches her for a moment, then adds, "Glad to hear it, though. She's beautiful." Tayte is watching, of course. Her blue eyes are intent until she takes in his practiced way with the baby. It's not that she didn't know he's a practiced hand with babes (with recent experience, even!), it's just that mothers often need to see to believe (and, even so, many remain skeptics). Of course, now the vintner has nothing to do with her arms, so it's her turn to wear that odd hesitation, and spice it up with a little awkwardness. Her arms are eventually drawn down while K'del addresses the bright-eyed babe, who's suddenly very interested by the face in her sights. One of Tayte's arms stretches by her side, while the other folds across her middle to grasp the elbow of the opposite one. "I'd forgotten just how fast they grow." The woman murmurs. It's hardly her best attempt at congenial conversation, but she's trying. The fact that the next is almost an afterthought shows in a blush, "How are you and Cadejoth and the Weyr? And the boys? And Iska and Ali?" It's a bit of a mouthful as inquiries go, but she manages without much tripping or hesitation. K'del grins at the baby, and then makes a face, just for her. He could probably entertain himself like this for hours, but he's also pretty conscious of Tayte, and this awkwardness, and so, after a moment, he glances back across at her. "Mm," he agrees. "Tiny one moment, enormous the next. I-- we're good. The Weyr's good. Everyone's good. Kasey's just turned eleven, which is making me feel old. Iska's spending half her time at High Reaches, which is nice, though it's-- hard, for Ali. It's been an adjustment." As truthful as that answer seems to be, he doesn't linger on it, instead jumping back to ask, "And things are going well here? Professionally?" The face for Tavi actually helps with the awkward. Tayte's expression softens and there's one of her more tender smiles making an appearance before she has a chance to overthink. It's still there when he looks, but only so long as it takes for the mother to realize what he must be seeing. It's replaced then with blushing self-consciousness, though that, too, is fleeting as her lips settle back to a more everyday smile. That is until the mention of Ali. Where before there would have been a microsecond of real before tight control was exerted to react as she ought, now there is only real and it's far from the norm: sympathy. She doesn't vocalize whatever she might have been thinking, likely picking up on his lack of lingering and following suit. Instead, "Oh, it's good. Very different than what I did at home, but good. My students are mostly very bright, and the classes are a good refresher for me. They've given me new ideas for my research to try when I return." She pauses, letting her eyes return to his face from the space they had wandered to, and with a little clearing of her throat, "I always make sure to make just enough mistakes that they won't be tempted to keep me, or worse, promote me." For Tayte's tender smile, K'del's own broadens; for the self-consciousness, and then, finally, the smile that follows, his softens. Instinctually rocking the baby in his arms, just gently, he answers the vintner's words with a nod. "Glad to hear it," is quiet, but genuine. "On all fronts. We wouldn't want them to keep you forever. You're missed, at home. And Vali too, of course. The boys like it best when their sisters are around; I think they like feeling grown up." "She always comes back with so much to say when she's been up with all of you boys and Iska." It's easiest to talk about Vali first. "Actually, she's been asking if she can stay more often. I think she misses the nannies there. They're a little more... well, reserved at the Hall," as one might expect. Tayte hesitates briefly before she plunges forward, rocking a little onto the balls of her feet. It might be because he's rocking Tahvra, or because she needs momentum to say, "I miss home. And I miss you. And I'm sorry about things," The tears and the looks and the way she couldn't seem to not silently shed tears every few minutes through their awkward meeting after Tavi was born. There are things K'del could say about Vali, and about her place with him and his boys and his Iska, but Tayte plunges onwards, and what can K'del do but follow. "I'm sorry, too," he murmurs in answer, an apology that is certainly one he's already made, but that was then and this is now, and that means everything is different. "I miss you, too. Miss the way things were. Being friends. Just... talking." The nod acknowledging his apology is the most K'del will get, not because she's still inwardly blowing it off as she once did, but because now she wants to move past that point that's still sore because of both the necessity for an apology and her reaction to that which came before. So perhaps her push past it is understandable. "Me too," is the emphatic and relieved answer to the part she hadn't articulated. "I know H'vier probably prefers it this way- well, not this way," she corrects, "But the way things have been, but I don't." Chalk the fact that H'vier is abruptly in the mix up to the continued sleep deficit and things on the forefront of her mind finding shortcuts to her lips. "What I mean is," she tries again with a gusty exhalation, "I miss my best-friend. Life is a lot less good without you- us- our friendship." She settles on the last. "Can we... sort of pretend the last many months of not talking didn't happen? Sort of?" In so much as they can. Her voice is hopeful; probably a two-fold hope, a hope that they can and hope that he knows what she means through her corrections and muddled thoughts. K'del never looks especially pleased when H'vier's name is mentioned, though he manages, this time, not to look bothered - which has to count for something. His expression, instead, is neutral for that, but steadily warmer afterwards as he extracts one hand from about Tahvra (while still keeping her well supported) in order to reach for Tayte's hand, to squeeze it. "We can," he confirms. "Consider it a figment of our imaginations. Our friendship's always been good and strong and... and everything's going to be fine. It's good to have you back, Tayte." Pfft. Surely, since their friendship is good and strong and always has been, K'del knows that a hand-squeeze will not suffice. Not that he doesn't get her hand, but rather that after blinking down at the joined hands, Tayte is hugging him. It's not the elegant kind of hug, but instead a mostly-on-one-side one since one arm is occupied with the infant who chooses now to chime into the conversation with a nonsense sound. That probably wouldn't be anything noteworthy since, surely Tavi has been making other recognizable vocables in preparation for real words, only her chirpy, "Dadadadadada," as she's looking right up at K'del has Tayte freezing mid-hug and pulling back to stare down at the baby. Then she's looking up to the bronzerider and back to the baby before she busts out laughing. The hand on K'del's shoulder is keeping her from collapsing into a puddle of laughing Tayte goo as the laughter becomes so riotous as to bring tears to her eyes. Hugging? Hugging K'del can do, in a lopsided, awkward kind of way, but still. Right as Tavi opens her mouth, K'del is also opening his, no doubt about to say something profound - something that does not, in the end, get said. It's not just that string of syllables; it's also Tayte's abrupt freeze, and the way she pulls back, and then, suddenly, he's also laughing, while being terribly careful not to jolt the poor baby too much in the process. "Your daughters seem to have a thing for me," he teases, once he can pull himself together enough to form words. "Not that I'm complaining, mind. You make lovely daughters." A reaction like that from both adults is enough to make Tavi's idly kicking legs pause, and then after thinking it over, try for a repeat, "Dadadadadadada," which only puts Tayte out of comission longer, her hand clinging to K'del's shoulder, the goo puddle now a real possibility. This leaves Tahvra beaming and babbling it over and over. Fortunately Tayte is able to collect herself and finally let go of the bronzerider's shoulder, doing her own beaming at him while she wipes her eyes. "What can I say," the blonde manages with only a little giggle escaping, "We all have excellent taste." Arguable. "She's never made that one before. Bababa and some others, but not that one. Too funny. That made my day." She continues to lavish that I-really-needed-that smile on K'del. "Oho," says K'del, looking now back at Tavi, and her continued efforts. "Oh, she knows how to get a reaction. Don't you, Tahvra? You know how to play to an audience." Tayte's recovery, slow as it is, just has the bronzerider grinning. "Adorable. They're so adorable, at this age. Not that they stop being adorable, later, but it's... different. It's-- I'm looking forward to having a baby again, even with the sleep deprivation, and all of it." Easy for him to say, when he doesn't actually live with Ali. "She's due in the autumn. We haven't really told people, yet." Tavi rewards K'del's attentions in kind with smiles and squirms within the safety of his arms. "They are, and a good thing too." A necessary survival mechanism to keep mothers from doing anything crazy when they're up for the seventh or twelfth time in the night. "They stop being just adorable and start being little people," Tayte murmurs, swaying a little nearer to smile down at her daughter. "That makes it different." She knows too well what he means with Tahvra becoming ever more and more real in her own right. The surprise is there in her face, though the words are smooth enough. And when she comments, the attitude is a world away from what it was the last time K'del shared this kind of news. "Congratulations. I'm sure it'll be wonderful all over again. And Iska will love learning to be an older sister." Now, there's only genuine, if not overwhelming positive sentiment. "Will you be spending more time at Fort come autumn?" It's polite interest, so maybe their friendship isn't as perfectly back as they'll pretend, for if it were, the phrasing might've been different, but at least it's better. That Tayte hasn't heard the news about Ali's transfer can hardly be too surprising between her own sleep deprivation, the new teaching responsibilities and the fact that she's now at a Hall where the news about which Master moved where is deemed more interesting gossip than the relocation of goldriders. K'del's expression is sympathetic, and knowing, for that mention of being up so many times at night. Of course, it's been quite some time since he was dealing with that regularly, the lucky bastard. He's watching Tayte, after relating his news, and though he opens his mouth to say something, he shuts it again quickly... and looks surprised. "Ali's at Southern, now," he says, in a low voice. "But I certainly hope to be spending time there, yes. As much as I can, given... it's difficult, because I don't want the Southerners to feel like I'm positioning myself to become their Weyrleader." "Oh!" Initial surprise and then moments later, "Ohhh." The word is drawn out as realization comes. "I'd wondered why Vali was talking about Southern so much more. I figured she just missed Jeyli. That's why she..." Must have been requested to pay a visit to her niece as is presently occurring. "And Jeyli mentioned her having a new Weyrwoman expected to be the new Weyrwoman, only she never mentioned--" the name, "and I didn't realize her Weyrwoman was your Weyrwoman." Tayte's thoughts appear to flit as would a firelizard in a cavern full of littles with bacon; back and forth, hither and yon as the pieces of the puzzle become clear to her. "I'm sorry, Kas." The sympathy offered is once more real, "That does sound difficult. Stupid politics." That, too, and its wrinkled nose accompaniment seem genuine, too. Above, a familiar Southern blue blinks into the sky just then and starts making the descent. K'del presses his lips together as Tayte works her way through that piece of information, offering only a short nod in confirmation. "In some ways," he says, "it's easier. There's no Hattie and N'muir to disapprove of my presence, for one. And since I don't have ambitions towards Southern's Weyrleadership, at least I can rest easy on that. But--" His gaze has caught that blue, far above, and he straightens, watching. "It's hard. These things're always hard. But we manage. Don't we, Tahvra?" The arrival of the blue isn't lost on Tayte either. "Just you be careful that Cadejoth doesn't get any ideas about having good timing for Isyath's flight." Tayte warns, though her tone is more gently teasing than stern. "It wouldn't do for us to come back in a few months, I hope anyway, and for you not to be there anymore." She glances down at Tavi. "Distance is difficult. Especially considering who you are and who she is and how the rest of the world sees you both." She reaches a hand to squeeze his arm before turning to move to where a pair of bags have been left, returning with them to deposit at K'del's feet. "I know it's not a terribly appealing trade, but since your daughter will be here presently and ready for you to whisk her off to the Weyr for the night, I'll give you her things for the baby." "He's chased in all but one of her flights, and never caught her," is K'del's answer to that first, low, and sure, and only faintly regretful. "Not sure he ever would, no matter how much they like each other. You can't get rid of me that easily." A simple nod answers her next comments, his own gaze falling towards her daughter, and acknowledging her words with ruefulness that he's barely recovered from before she continues. "Suppose that's fair. Just this once. Next time, though..." And yet, he's not so unwilling to hand the baby back. "You and I both have enough dragon sense to know that doesn't mean he won't suddenly catch her just when it would be most inconvenient." Tayte answers with a chiding quirk of a brow. Dragons, like babies, do what they want. She receives Tavi with chirpy hellos for the girl, adoration for the babe obvious. Maybe it's not H'vier at the root of Tayte's change of attitude toward K'del and Ali, but Tahvra. Not falling in love with one's child and being consumed by that is a challenge all its own which few mothers choose to undertake. "I'll see you tomorrow when you drop Vali back?" "True, true," allows K'del, with a sigh - and a smile, too. The smile's perhaps as much for Tayte and Tahvra as it is for anything else; it lingers as he nods. "See you then. Have a good night, Tayte. Promise I won't keep Vali up late, or stuff her full of sugary things. Promise." A safe promise, really. |
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