Logs:More Than Duty
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| RL Date: 23 March, 2013 |
| Who: Arekoth, H'kon, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Madilla picnic in the mountains. Of course, it's them: there's talking. But not always explaining. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 25, Month 4, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Delifa/Mentions, Leova/Mentions |
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| Mountain Meadow A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks. The nicer parts of spring have yet to actually show their faces, this season, but at least the weather doesn't - presently - seem inclined to dump more snow on the High Reaches region. This far up in the mountains, though, there's still some snow on the ground, even if the spring wildflowers are attempting to poke their heads through. A little bit of coordination, and a visit to the kitchens, has preceded this afternoon's visit; now, after a flight and landing that is characteristically Arekoth (about which Madilla makes no comment, not even the hint of a smile or the furrow of a brow), it's a matter of, "I'd hoped there'd be more flowers, by now, but no matter. It's still so-- clean." Not to mention quiet. A characteristic landing is followed up by a characteristic shuffling of his wings as the brown settles. H'kon has also been true to character over the course of the trip, and the landing is a continuation of that: a bit of a smile, half-actualised, a bit of a nod. A longer look out over the valley, which slowly turns into a glance up at the mountains' peaks. "Still," he offers as refraction more than repetition, a bit of emphasis, a lift of an eyebrow. It sounds more musing than command, though his brown stops with the wing business about that same time, and crouches. Almost chivalrous, really. That makes Madilla laugh. "Still," she agrees, following up her own words with a prompt and only maybe connected, "Thank you, Arekoth. That makes it much easier." To climb down, presumably, which she does with the practiced ease that can no doubt be assumed of a woman who has spent so many turns of her life in a weyr. She's got a small basket with her, though it gets set down upon a patch of grass that isn't covered in snow, largely so that she can turn around on her heels, in a rough circle, before pausing to turn back towards brown and rider. She's smiling; pleased. H'kon slides from his dragon's neck similarly, no without a rolling of his eyes for the (uncharacteristically!) low rumble his dragon offers in response to the weyrhealer. Once freed of passengers, said dragon takes his own look around, making a show of circling only to come up a few paces from his original landing place - and right near that basket - when he settles once more. Wing-shuffling resumes. H'kon is still for most of this, a bit delayed in his glance from lifemate to Madilla. In response to her smile, he gives a sigh, and his shoulders fall, at least a bit more relaxed. Madilla's brows raise, rather as if she's waiting for something, as H'kon reacts to her smile, but if that's so she doesn't wait for long. Instead, she crosses back towards the brownrider, reaching to grab for both of his hands, to squeeze them. "Come on," she says. "You can't just watch him all afternoon. Everything's--" 'Fine' may be the word she was about to use, but if so, she thinks better of it. "Isn't it nice to be outside the Weyr for a change?" She's a clever woman, that one. Physical contact gets H'kon's attention, finds him focused. "No," is something of an agreement to her first statement. "Hm," has the sound of affirmation to the last, and the brownrider turns his face up to those peaks again. Only one hand returns the press, the other going slack, pulled away by the shift in his position as H'kon takes a step more than any direct action. "The second time I saw these mountains, it was from Arekoth's neck." That brown can't possibly remember, but certainly that pose he strikes is one pleased. "Was it?" Madilla's voice smiles as much as her mouth does, gaze drifting from H'kon's face towards Arekoth; again, she seems amused. "I suppose it would have been. Leova took me up here, a few times. I imagine it's different, of course, seeing it with your own dragon, especially when it's all so... new, still." She lets the hand he's pulled away from drift back to her side, but the other stays firm. "Better seen from the air, of course." "Different when it's the first real journey to somewhere other. Even having seen them once made it seem I was... older." There's a weight to that word, an attempt at pushing it beyond the obvious truth of his age compared to his dragons. H'kon doesn't otherwise elaborate. Arekoth has fallen to looking at that basket. "His name even has the sound of air," is agreement again, with which his verbosity winds down, and his eyes fall to Madilla again. "Do you prefer it here, or there?" A nod upward. Something in Madilla's expression turns more visibly thoughtful as she listens, though there's no indication that her thoughts trend especially positive or negative in that sense. "Something you were introducing to him," she supposes, even-toned. "I suppose it's all about perspective. One can see so much more, from up there, but there's something to be said of feeling the sense of scale from down here, too." Her smile is abrupt. "But I still get a thrill at being airborne. Every time." "Introducing without even truly knowing," H'kon offers up, though it's not so wry as it could be. He makes another step, and stops, hardly having gone anywhere at all. That smile of hers is catching; H'kon mirrors it, for all he presses it into the collar of his jacket when he looks back over his shoulder. To the great brown creature still staring at the basket. "It's a great talent of his," is offered back to her, features now just warmed, rather than bright. "We could, when you like." "But introducing, nonetheless." On that count, Madilla is firm, albeit in a way that still keeps her smiling, hers aimed very directly at H'kon, though her gaze follows his towards Arekoth, too. Before answering, she has to blink, and laugh, and say, "I'm sorry to say that there are no live beasts in that basket, ready to be eaten. Or...?" There's a question in there, one she doesn't quite manage to come out with. Instead, with quietly fervent delight, as she lets her gaze meet H'kon's again, "I'd like that." "Indeed," is quiet acknowledgement, his look far more a thing of nostalgia than anything else. It's H'kon whose neck flushes red at the mention of live beasts. Arekoth simply looks up to the weyrhealer, rustles his wings, and cants his head to see the basket from a (slightly) different angle. He's still at that angle when wings are not merely rustled, but stretched out in full, a display. Or agreement, maybe. Madilla hesitates, in response to that flush, and then her gaze slides from rider to dragon, eyeing that display levelly, before it returns once more towards H'kon. Her free hand twists at her side, fingertips tangling themselves up in the fabric of her skirt; she's silent, but if she's waiting, there's no deliberate pressure in it - no probing glance, no raised eyebrows, no words hovering just at the tip of her tongue. Perhaps she could stand in silence forever. As if there is any doubt, at this point, that H'kon certainly could do just that. But silence is a chance for him to get deeper into his head, or maybe even deeper into Arekoth's. It's time to probe at things that have been on the edge of his mind, if not his tongue. It's reason, in the end, for his grip on Madilla's hand to tighten. "He would be quite willing," rouses him from all that, in due time. That brown's already lowered his wings, not one to wait for his rider's thoughts. "Are you hungry?" And Madilla, for her part, seems unwilling to probe too much, just yet, though her hand squeezes in answer to his tightened grip: a silent show of unquestioning support. "Then we'll have to oblige him," she says, firmly, but without any particular emphasis - natural, quite as if there hadn't been such a gap in the conversation. The same can be said of her smile, which follows those words, even as she's tugging gently to lead the way back those few steps towards the basket. "I could certainly eat. There's a blanket in here, too. I imagine the ground is cold." "Your children as well, if you would have it," is cautiously clipped from the rider. The brown's head twitches faintly to the side, one eye to pin on the pair as the man lets himself be directed. "I will see he behaves himself," is possibly as much for the benefit of that eye as for Madilla's sake, for H'kon's own. The practical considerations are met only with a nod. He squats near the basket, at the ready to assist, with one hand pressing to the ground, testing, finding, "Damp." Madilla has to withdraw her hand in order to open the basket, though not before she's squeezed his once more; a moment later, she offers the aforementioned blanket to the brownrider for spreading, saying, "I suppose it would be. Damp, I mean. They'd like that." Green eyes lift, for a moment, towards Arekoth. "I trust you both." Also contained in the basket: sandwiches, some of last turn's withered apples, a small collection of little fruit pies, and a glass bottle of water. Practical picnicking. It could be H'kon setting up camp that has Arekoth easing himself down from his more proud sit upon his haunches; more likely, it's Madilla's expression of trust. The angle of his head, the majesty he attempts in the degree of control as he settles, it all smacks of vindication. As to that blanket spreading: it goes well enough, though H'kon winds up crab-walking about the edges, tugging here and there to smooth the thing as he was quite unable to do, by either billow or stationary reach. "Hm," acknowledges his satisfaction, after perhaps longer than was strictly necessary. That vindication is not easily missed, not even when Madilla is carefully arraying the food on the blanket (taking pains not to get in H'kon's way as she does so), though aside from a lingering glance in the brown's direction, she doesn't immediately remark upon it. Her reply to that 'Hm' is, "Perfect," made as she settles herself, cross-legged, on top. It's after she's reached for one of the sandwiches, setting it atop a napkin on her knee, that she says, "I have the feeling that I'm missing something. It's to be expected, of course, and I won't press, but..." Her glance from rider to dragon, and then back again, is distinctly thoughtful. H'kon first takes a knee, a better angle from which to claim one of those sandwiches as his own. It's a slow descent from there, though it does happen, and in the end he's got one leg bent, knee up, and the other bent, knee parallel to the ground. He looks up to Arekoth as well, lips pressing into a thin line, fingers pressing into the sandwich. "He..." Fingers press harder, in time to a furrow formed in the brownrider's brow. "He is always pleased to receive what I will not always readily give him." A beat as he readjusts his grip to a more gentle one on that sandwich. "Most of all in my presence." Arekoth remains smug. Madilla's quiet, "Ah," doesn't necessarily make it clear whether she properly follows, or not, though a glance at her expression would probably give a good indication that she at least thinks she does. "I'm inadvertently putting myself in the middle of you. I'll have to be more mindful of that." Evidently, she doesn't have immediate designs on her sandwich, because though it sits there, waiting, on her knee, she ignores it in lieu of turning her gaze back on H'kon, thoughtfully watchful. "No," comes softly, and H'kon goes so far even as to shake his head. "We are not so..." he has to put his sandwich down, on the flattened leg, to link his fingers together in demonstration, accompaniment to, "close. Not as some are." It's not resentful, nor even regretful. H'kon gathers his sandwich back up. "There is always a distance," comes with a shrug. "You've done nothing wrong," is the crux of it. After that, he's able to take a bite. While Arekoth watches. "I didn't think 'wrong', so much as..." Madilla struggles to find the words for her own thoughts, and ultimately, shakes her head, as if to shake the thought away. "Not like that, anyway. More... I don't know. It's different, working out how different pairs work. The balances, I suppose." Now, finally, she reaches for her own sandwich, forestalling further commentary as she chews. Arekoth watches H'kon chew. H'kon watches Madilla. Once finished his mouthful: "I would think it strange. Surrounded by so many minds in multiples." His watching doesn't last long, and soon he's peering at his sandwich, inspecting the damage done by his fingertips. Madilla's laugh is wry. "A little," she confirms. A pause. "No, a lot. Very strange. Knowing that there are whole conversations going on around me that I know nothing about. A whole world I'm disconnected from. And the very idea that... I don't know. It's a strange thing to get my head around: minds in multiple, as you say. Wholly foreign, even if I can grasp it on an intellectual level. I... spent a long time being envious." H'kon nods faintly, glancing at length up from the bread he'd crushed. The sandwich stays clasped limply in his fingers, all but forgotten. "He was keen to be present." The explanation has a note of apology, if not wholly that in itself. "And I do not believe I've been fair to him of late." That one sounds more of disapproval. That sandwich gets a half-turn, but isn't lifted, nor looked at. And Arekoth's vindication is wearing off. Madilla seems surprised by that note of apology, and more surprised by what follows, though she's not quick to make any reply. Instead, she takes some long seconds to consider this information, gaze taking in first brownrider, then brown, and then brownrider once again. "How so?" is her eventual prompt, though it has a note of apology in it: an air of 'don't feel as though you need to answer'. "I certainly don't object to his presence." H'kon watches Madilla with all the duty of a man awaiting the confession he's brought upon himself. The time she would seem to offer him is taken, however, and for a while there's just that brief sideways twitch of his mouth for her comment about Arekoth - or rather, some unknown conversation following it - as sign of life. Stillness breaks with a pull of a frown. "When I was young, my mother tried to explain dragons and riders. My father explained duty." He pokes another hole in his sandwich. "Arekoth is the Weyr." Okay, it's like an answer sort of. Like an answer, but not, it seems, one that actually makes sense to Madilla: she frowns. "You mean... your duty to him is like your duty to the Weyr? They're... all part of the same whole?" she hazards, sounding both unsure and distinctly apologetic for being unsure. She's used the time his silence has given her to take several more bites of her own sandwich, though now it gets set back down upon that napkin so that she can press her hands to the blanket on either side of her. H'kon's frown deepens incrementally, and he begins to shake his head. "There is more than duty to our dragons. There should be..." And further generalisation is left to gesticulation with that worn sandwich, while he closes his eyes, and shakes his head again. This time, dismissive. Madilla's, "Ah," certainly seems to suggest that she has a better idea, now, of what H'kon is getting at. "No, of course. That would be like implying that... that duty is the only thing that binds parent and child, but worse, because... it's a partnership, dragon and rider. And it..." She breaks off, abruptly, cheeks faintly pink; her gaze slides from H'kon towards Arekoth, just watching. H'kon all at once gets to lifting that sandwich, though the bite he takes his less than ravenous, and the actual chewing and swallowing of the food is more a series of motions than anything. Arekoth is watching, too, head tilted down, intense - though that could just be his snout and eyeridges. "Did you choose to be at the Weyr?" is definitely for Madilla. Madilla is still looking at Arekoth when that question comes, and it surprises her, turning her gaze back abruptly. "No," she says, promptly. Then: a pause, and a correction. "Delifa requested the posting, and after she was accepted, she asked me to join her. It was an offer, not a requirement, though I don't believe I saw it as such at the time. Which isn't to say that I was unhappy to come, but... I would have gone anywhere they sent me." H'kon shifts the sandwich wholly to one hand, and wraps that arm about his updrawn knee. His other hand goes to take the wrist of the first. It allows a lean in the brown's direction, while H'kon can keep his attention fixed on the healer. "Would you now?" "No." It's a prompt answer, the kind that suggests it is a topic already well-considered. That single word hangs in the air for several seconds before Madilla clarifies, dropping her gaze towards her abandoned sandwich for a moment, then lifting it once more. "The Weyr is my home. They could force me, I suppose, and I would be obliged to do as they told, or relinquish my knot. I hope they wouldn't. I think I've already made myself quite clear on that front, to them." H'kon accepts the response - and the clarification - each with a little upward nod of his head. The sandwich sways, but doesn't drop. Nor does it move from its place near the man's shin. "I'm glad," he decides, and the thoughtful look held on her might leave the words to stand on their own. Except, "that you don't mind his presence." In answer, Madilla's look is an even one, her lips pressed together with only a minute amount of pressure. She exhales, after the conclusion of his sentence - and then smiles, reaching for one of the apples, to shine it on the sturdy fabric of her skirt. "It wouldn't be especially fair of me to object," she says. "Even if I were inclined to. You come as a pair, I should think. I'm glad he doesn't object to my presence." "Fair or not, it would do little good," is mused, H'kon's face serious. "I've spent near half of this life objecting, and it's had little effect." The tug of a (weary) smile is mostly at the corners of his eyes. His shoulders roll the more as he shifts his weight. "No," is almost reassurance, a moment later, once whatever result for the jibe has died away, once he can look up at Madilla properly again. "Arekoth has always been a great supporter of any matter of the heart." Now he can release his arms and lift that sandwich. Madilla's smile is fondly amused, but only after she's caught sight of that more subtle, weary one. "Well," she says, with a certain amount of determined firmness, even if there's a laugh, there, just barely escaping bubbling to the surface, "We'll just have to make the best of it. Arekoth and I seem perfectly comfortable as it stands, and you're just going to have to put up with both of us." The brown gets a glance again - and a smile. |
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