Logs:Mothers
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| RL Date: 30 March, 2016 |
| Who: Farideh, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh visits Quinlys (belatedly) and her daughter. |
| Where: Quinlys' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 6, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lyrisa/Mentions, Ethran/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, C'ris/Mentions |
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| With no more weyrlings to train, and no new weyrlings on the horizon, Quinlys has a relatively enviable position as far as new mothers go: her duties are light and easily shifted around to suit the whims and vagaries of a newborn. Of which there are, predictably, many. None of this means that the bluerider is doing well, mind: sure, she has her nearly-two-month-old at home with her today, rather than handed off to the nannies, and sure Lyrisa is sleeping, but Quinlys rather seems to be 'enjoying' the fine summer afternoon by, well, staring at the wall in sleeplessly moody disarray (which rather matches the mess that is the weyr itself). Nonetheless, as Olveraeth is happy to relate to anyone who asks, visitors are welcome. And visitors do come calling, though in Roszadyth's case it's with a politely expressed desire to offer congratulations in radiant tones. Once clearance has been given -- oh, please, Olveraeth, great Olveraeth -- the gold lands on the ledge with surprising grace and lets down one leather-and-lawn-bedecked goldrider. "Quinlys," is Farideh's cheerful greeting, ringing out well before she's seen the bluerider, but not before she's started to remove her gloves. "Oh-- hello? Are you feeling well? Should I come back another time?" comes once she's seen Quinlys and slowed her steps, a question lingering in her hazel eyes. Olveraeth's naturally pleased by Roszadyth: by her presence, and yes, by her graciousness too. He's proud of his rider's offspring, that much is clear in the shooting stars of his thoughts, even if they're somewhat dimmed by his rider's so-obvious exhaustion. Clearly, he must have warned Quinlys of her incoming visitor, because she stirs from her position without too much surprise, though it largely seems to be to turn tired eyes upon the goldrider, her smile more rueful and apologetic than pleased. "No, no, I'm fine. Hello. Tired-- that's all. Come in. Sit..." If she can find somewhere to sit. Sit elicits a hike of brows and a brief glance around the weyr, in all of its entirety. "I'm fine standing for now. How are you faring? I've been meaning to come, but with Irianke's return," sort of fades off into a self-deprecating smile. "And C'ris? I haven't had time to catch up with him either. You both must be having such a time." Farideh quits talking long enough to let the bluerider reply, but she's looking all around again; possibly, probably, for the baby in question. Why else do people visit new mothers? Quinlys' sigh acknowledges the state of the weyr, as does the sweep of her gaze, but she's clearly too tired-- or too lacking in caring-- to offer an excuse, however pitiful. Instead, she gestures towards the basket where Lyrisa is sleeping. "If you wake her up," she warns, voice pitched low, "I'll probably cry. But... no, we're fine. We're all fine. Eventually I'll give up pretending I'm a decent mother and just hand her over to the nannies whatever anyone says, but we're fine. How's it feel, having Irianke back?" "If," Farideh acknowledges, with a mischievous smile, "I wake her up, I'll send our nanny up and you can get some sleep. I might, anyway." Not skipping a beat, she makes her way to the basket where the newborn sleeps. "I think I remember when Ethran was this tiny," she says, leaning down to have a closer look at Quinlys' baby. "Is that what it means to be a decent mother? Sacrificing your faculties to a screaming, crying little thing?" She's museful, and half amused, when she says it, but then she's wrinkling her nose and straightening. "I don't miss playing her role, honestly. I'm much happier just being-- a support person, a lesser role?" Quinlys lets out a little breath, almost as if she's wistfully considering the prospect of a nanny-- or maybe just a nap. "Both grandmothers are helping out, of course, but... I feel like I'm always doing things wrong. Or I'm supposed to feel differently. Or I'm... I mean, I love her." That's plainly genuine, given the way her eyes following Farideh, seeking out the baby. Without pausing, she slides past that to say, "You luck-- like, I mean, that there's someone between you and the big decisions." "Those," Farideh answers, head canted to the side, "are thoughts we can't have in our lifestyle. Not really. I suppose if we were regular holder women, married and tending our own children, we could sit around and ruminate about how best to rear, how much time they should sleep-- the things I hear the nannies bicker about. I gave up long ago being a good mother. I'm just-- Ethran's mother. I don't know if that's good enough, but it has to be, doesn't it? I don't have the time-- " Not that she's ever seemed particularly maternal, but who knows. She walks back to where Quinlys sits, eyeing the clutter accumulated. "Yes. I've never wanted to make the big decisions, if you recall. It's not something I enjoy-- leading so many people around on a leash. As if they'd even know how to behave." And, she's rolling her eyes. The slump of Quinlys' shoulders, now, seems to be in relief, as if Farideh is giving her exactly the information she needs to at least temporarily stop beating herself up. "It has to be," she agrees. "And... that's why we have nannies. Right? It doesn't mean we don't care." The bluerider pauses, scrubbing at her eyes as she lets her gaze slip away from the baby again, drawing her attention back towards the goldrider. "Mmm. Whereas I've always liked it. But that's not a bad thing. We all... different strengths." The nearest piece of furniture has something on it that Farideh brushes off, so she can perch there for the time being. "I have to think that's why they created the nurseries in the first place. Our dragons take up our time first, of course. Duties. Responsibilities. Living. And then there's our children." She pauses to purse her lips, and gives her head a gentle shake. "I love Ethran. I want the best for him. I want him to be happy. I know I couldn't give him that, with Roszadyth, and the Weyr, and everything in between. The nannies are the next best thing-- and he'll be raised with all the other Weyr children, like yours. They're basically going to be siblings," comes, not without a curl of her lips. "I don't know how you do it. Especially with weyrlings-- they make it a point not to listen." Quinlys' expression is a little more along the lines of 'defiant' rather than 'apologetic' as she watches Farideh brush things off the furniture; too bad, so sad. "Siblings," she repeats-- and then laughs. "There's a thought. 'Honestly, I don't need to have any more; she's already GOT a nursery full of siblings'. Have people started asking you when you'll have a second?" It's curious, enough so that she doesn't make any comment on weyrlings, or how-- or why-- she does it. "Pre-cisely," Farideh says, laughter brimming in her words. "A second? No-- no no. I don't think anyone would wish that on me now-- not before, for sure. There's something about being in charge of a whole Weyr full of dragons that makes people assume your plate is full-- and now, I guess, maybe they'd expect it." She sighs. She rolls her eyes. She looks uncomfortable at the thought! "I don't think I want another. I wouldn't want one now, anyway. When I'm older? I'll think about it again, but for now Ethran is enough. What about you?" Poor Farideh. Quinlys, at least, looks sympathetic. "Oh, it's too soon for it to be a thing, for me, except... people keep saying 'it'll be easier with your second' and-- well, fuck that, right?" Her eyes roll, which is at least a good sign of animation: not dead yet! "It's not like I planned Lyri. I suspect... no, I'm sure C'ris would like more. But." But. "What gets easier? Managing your time?" This time the goldrider's voice is dry, and there's an undercurrent of irritation; not with the bluerider, but with whoever is telling her about seconds. "But? C'ris-- I think he'd be the type to have plenty, like K'del. Watch out for yourself, Quinlys. Luckily, Drex hasn't mentioned it, and if he did--" At that, she stands, grabbing for her gloves again. "I'm glad you're doing well and she's as beautiful as her mother, of course." Quinlys' snort is scoffing, and plainly approves of Farideh's irritation. Of C'ris, she says nothing else. Instead, she rises, stretching as if she hasn't moved properly all day (which perhaps she hasn't). "Thank you, Farideh," is quiet, but genuine. "For the compliment, and for the reassurance. I... look after yourself. Visit anytime." "It's gotten easier, over time," Farideh does say, as she turns towards the exit and just as quickly glances back at the other woman. There's a dip of her chin and smile. "I'd say I'd hope you'd get back to work and your former self soon, but we both know what that'd mean, so for now, you do the same." And, laughing, she exits back to the ledge and her dragon. The bluerider's laugh follows Farideh back to the ledge, but otherwise, she has no further comment. Dear queens: stay on the ground, kthnx. |
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