Logs:Lyrisa's First Turnday
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| RL Date: 17 July, 2016 |
| Who: Quinlys, C'ris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In which Quinlys and C'ris discuss possible futures. |
| Where: Starry Dreams Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 4, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jocelyn/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Drex/Mentions |
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Past the second heavy curtain, the passage widens into a
small-but-not-tiny cavern. Stone shelves of varying heights and sizes
provide ample storage from trinkets, many of which have been filled by
Quinlys' collections. An old desk to the right of the entranceway shows
definite signs of use, from the stacks of hides to a collection of
abandoned mugs. A punching bag has been hung from the ceiling; it shows
signs of being well used.
Further back, a bubble-shaped hollow has been turned into a semi-private
sleeping chamber, stuffed with a mattress and generous furs. In the
ceiling, over the head of the bed, a quirk of the rock creates an open
space: a short tunnel that shows a generous patch of sky above it, its
slight tilt keeping out rain and snow.
On past the sleeping quarters is a fireplace, set into the furthest wall.
Its once-beautiful wood mantle is cracked and warped, but shows no signs
of disuse. Lyrisa's turnday has been an intimate family affair; no granparents or aunts or uncles but just Lyrisa and her mother and her father celebrating with a small cake and a few presents. She babbles all the time now, occasionally offering a 'mama' or 'papa', and is picking up new words every day; she is constantly moving, having already taken her first step and trying to take more often. So even on this day, this celebration, it's a nice breath of relief when she eventually wears herself out and is able to be put down to sleep. C'ris has taken that responsibility on, only padding back towards Quinlys and the fireplace beyond the sleeping quarters once the upset little noises that escape from their baby after she's been put down have stopped and faded into blessed silence. "Ok, she's down," he tells her mother with a flash of a grin. On days like today, it's easy enough for Quinlys to forget-- to temporarily forget-- her ambivalence towards motherhood, still so present in her even after the entirety of this turn (but ameliorated, at least, by a child who sleeps through the night and doesn't need to be fed from her mother's body). It makes for a long day, though, and it's clear this particular bluerider is relieved by the need for sleep, and further relieved to allow C'ris to take charge of it. She makes use of the time he's gone to uncork one of the bottles kept well above child reach, and pour herself a measure. That's where she's standing when he returns, half-turning to look at him over the rim of her glass. "Too much sugar. Let's remember that for next time." C'ris only exhales a laugh, that grin crooking more as he crosses the distance to pour himself some of the same. He points out, "The nursery wouldn't approve of keeping her hopped up on sugar all of the time." Once he has secured a drink, then he will pad barefooted closer to Quinlys, throwing a careless arm around her waist to draw her against him with a kiss dropped just as easily in his overflowing affection against the crown of her hair. With lips still buried there, he starts to murmur, "I heard Farideh and Drex are having another, y'know. Ethran will have a little brother or sister to grow up with." Quinlys softens into C'ris' embrace to begin with, snuggling her body against his as she lifts her glass towards her mouth for a sip. It's as she sips that his murmurs reaches her ear-- she promptly splutters, stiffens, draws away. "We," she says, turning to face the other bluerider face-on, "are not following their example. Farideh barely has time to look at Ethran, and I don't-- no." "I know, I know," C'ris says simply, knowingly, if perhaps a little sadly for Quinlys' reaction. "Especially with the clutch coming, for you. But after, maybe-- It's a nice thought, isn't it? Lyrisa having a younger sibling to grow up with, someone who will always be there for her. Family." She's withdrawn, but he reaches to capture her hand lightly, to try to draw her back even as he adds in apology, "Look, sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. Let's talk about something else." It's simply not possible for Quinlys to miss that sadness, and it sets her eyes to closing as she draws in a long, deep breath. After a moment more, she allows herself to be drawn back, but some of that ease is gone; she's wooden, and quiet, until abruptly: "Aidavanth will clutch. And at some point in the next few months, Niahvth will be due. Roszadyth. With three producing queens, I'm not likely to get any down time, C'ris," she says, though it's an excuse; she knows it, no doubt he knows it, everyone knows it. She opens her eyes again, considering C'ris. "She has a nursery full of siblings. She has cousins. I'm not built for this." C'ris is quiet for a long moment, only offering a quiet noise that might be agreement for her excuse even as he tries to wrap his arms around Quinlys again, despite the stiffness of the other bluerider. He doesn't meet her gaze, instead leaning to press a kiss against her temple without ever looking her in the eyes. Eventually, eventually, he murmurs his own, "It's not the same. The kids that she's in the nursery with, her cousins-- It's not the same as having real siblings." Slowly, Quinlys allows herself to soften against her daughter's father, easing out a low sigh as she does so, one that is eventually followed by words: "I know it's not." Of course she does; she, second eldest of four, so close and also not-close to her siblings. "But I can't be the parent you want me to be, and where does that leave us?" "The same place where we were when I left a note for you," C'ris answers softly, a small smile playing briefly on his lips if not with a hint of melancholy that may be missed as his lips linger against her temple. "Just figuring this out, one day at a time." Quinlys' exhale, this time, is short of a laugh - but not so short. "I can't believe she's a turn old," she admits, then, turning her head so that her words are aimed slightly upwards and to the side, towards the other bluerider's chin. "Before we know it, she's going to want to stand for a clutch and Impress and is going to be fumbling through weyrlinghood," teases C'ris in turn, only slightly relieved as the conversation slips back to an easier place and he is able to break into a quick smile. "Are you ready for that day?" "No." Quinlys, horrified. She tilts her head just a little further back, so that she can look at the other bluerider more directly. "That's a terrible thought, take it back. Remind me to be retired by then. I'll be close to fifty; that's not unreasonable. Or we'll send her to Monaco and she can Stand there." C'ris can't take it back because he's too busy laughing. He laughs brightly at her reaction, caught up into it so much that he's no longer even snuggling so much as trying to keep himself upright using his arm on Quinlys' waist. When he can draw in a breath, he huffs out, "I'll remind you. By then, we can be peacefully riding in a retired wing, watching the youngins and talking about how it was in our day." Quinlys is not laughing, though she does pause to take a sip from her glass, her free hand resting lightly upon C'ris' hip-- there, another form of support for the poor man. "If you're really lucky," she tells him, cheerfully, "I'll agree to embarrass our daughter terribly and give her a sibling. And then, one day, maybe she can be weyrlingmaster to her own sibling, the way I was." Surprise flickers across C'ris' expression for that statement, but the bluerider doesn't linger on it. He doesn't press it, definitely. Instead, he'll ask, "So, will she be a bluerider, do you think? Her and her sibling, of course. Any kid that we have." Making no further reference to other potential children, the redhead says, "Blue or green are the only colours my family tend to attract, and given the pair of us... of course, they could decide to be different, just to screw with expectations." Quinlys is cheerful about this; smug and smiley. "People did pick me for gold, but if they suggest it for my daughter, I'll tear their hearts out." Such a smile! "We'll just have to make sure to raise her properly to be able to handle whoever picks her, whatever responsibility she will have," replies C'ris in response to that, a simple, sincere answer that holds a warmth of belief in their ability to raise Lyrisa properly. Now, he wraps his arms around Quinlys again properly, dropping a soft kiss onto her lips with a smile of his own, though his is much softer. The dismissive sound Quinlys makes (after responding, briefly, to that kiss) is apparently not out of any doubts, as such, but more: "I don't want that for her. She's going to be a free spirit, flying free. She'll sleep with whomever she wants to, and aspire to anything she wants, and..." She pauses for breath, exhaling against C'ris. "I wish she'd talk properly," she admits, abruptly. "I want her to be a real person." C'ris exhales something close to a laugh, even before he murmurs assuringly, "She is a real person. You know this. But she'll be talking properly soon enough, and we won't ever get her to stop." His fingers lift to tangle softly into red hair, brushing a thumb over one stray piece as he offers a soft smile to the Weyrlingmaster in his arms. He continues, "We should probably get some-- sleep before she wakes up. If you're tired." Quinlys huffs, clearly implying that she thinks C'ris knows what she means, thank you very much, and it's not the same. But-- she's smug, too, expression mirthful as she tips her chin up and up and up towards the other bluerider. "'Sleep'. Yes; let's do that. Before she wakes up." The glass gets abandoned, and C'ris' hip? It gets tugged, by the beltloop. Come. A grin breaks brightly across C'ris' lips at the answer, and the bluerider has already started to strip his worn, blue sweater off quickly before she's even finished her sentence. It is dropped right there as he obediently follows that tug, before he's reaching to catch the hem of her shirt. Hopefully, that sugar really did the trick and Lyrisa will be passed out for a while. Happy birthday, Lyrisa! Everyone gets lucky. (Which doesn't mean that Quinlys, later, or perhaps tomorrow, won't take a quick-- slightly less quick-- trip between. Just in case.) |
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