Logs:No, Dearheart
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| RL Date: 14 April, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lycinea asks to Stand for all the wrong reasons. Iriainke tells her so, but offers an alternative. |
| Where: Irianke and Niahvth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edeline/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Many thanks to HRW Admin for giving their blessing to play this out! |
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>---< Irianke and Niahvth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1207RJ) >---------------< This hollowed out bubble cavern is large. Tendrils of steam come from a corner near the lower caverns entrance to the weyr. It's situated near a separated cave that has hanging glass beads obscuring view of it, likely the bed chamber. The outermost room is decorated in bright colors and a lot of interesting pieces of art hung on the walls. A large stone table sits in the entrance from the ledge atop a yellow and teal rug. The furniture is chaise lounges on other sectional carpet pieces and a cabinet of liquor. The glassed-in bookshelf is filled with volumes and volumes of books and scrolls and locked from prying eyes. -----------------------------< Active Players >----------------------------- Irianke F 37 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 8s Lycinea F 18 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s "Can I Stand? For the clutch?" Lya had not meant to blurt the question. In fact, she may not have meant to ask the question she'd been contemplating in the solitude of Irianke's bath while she let the water sooth the mental itch she could not scratch. When Irianke had returned early, she had been embarrassed, even though this time, she had the Weyrwoman's permission. Caught in the act is always embarrassing isn't it? Even if the act is as boring as just soaking in the tub. Without preamble and interrupting Irianke in a fashion she never ever did, she leaned to the edge of the tub and asked the question, her tone as desperate and frightened as her eyes. "Wouldn't it?" is a meek rejoinder that isn't an answer. Lya sinks back just a touch, still staring up at the goldrider. "Does she ever let you feel alone? Would she ever forget you? I don't want to be forgotten and alone," quiet confession more than complaint. "I might even Impress the gold. Then if I got stuck in a cave-in, everyone would have to care. They would have to--" but she trails off, because riding gold hadn't saved Azaylia. Lycinea begins to tremble, the water rippling the inner disquiet of the one within it. Irianke, with all her turns, can see where Lycinea's thought process takes her in that trail off and her steam-pinkened cheeks blanche. "Why," she begins, her finger trailing in the water again and then coming up to trail water against Lycinea's cheek, reaching if she must, "Do you think no one cared?" Lycinea's fearful eyes slide close at the touch. There's distinct and perhaps arguably more solace in it than there should be. She stills and the ripples begin to fade. "No. I know you did." A swallow later. "Farideh came to see me, and Zif, and Tela too." Then barely a whisper, "H'vier didn't. Anyone else who came to see me only came to find out what it was like. Like we were some kind of sick show to be peeped at through that horrible hole in the rock." Her eyes open and she looks up at the goldrider helplessly. "Please. Please, Irianke, let me Stand. Let me find a lifemate. Someone who will always care about me and never forget me. At least they-" presumably the riders stuck with them, "had them when we were all stuck. Keys and I had no one." Well, each other, cave-in besties for life. "Keys is Standing," it's a weak argument and she probably knows it, but she has to try. It's not like Keysi has been having panic attacks in the tunnels (or if she has, they've not been reported back to Irianke as Lya's may well have been). Her other hand comes up to cup and cradle Lycinea's young face. "Know, Lya, I love you dearly and you are like a daughter to me." Sure, a daughter who runs errands, fetches things, and works for her, but the emotions present in Irianke's voice are genuine, even earnest as she drops to her knees just outside the pool, so she can be more on eye-level with the teenager. "But loneliness shouldn't be your reason in finding a lifemate. There's no good that can come of it." The Igen woman's thumb caresses the girl's cheek. Perhaps the words are made better by the fact that Lycinea never had a mother, so if a daughter isn't supposed to perform acts of service to show her love for her mother, this orphan has only ever heard it's so, but what does the world know? It's to Irianke and her wisdom that she looks now. It's hard to say whether it's the first words and the emotion behind them or the last that make her begin to weep. For once, it's not the horrible body-wrenching sobs that haunted her day in and day out in the dusty fallen hallway and adjoining rooms, but soft, tragic tears rolling slowly down her cheeks as her eyes close. "I don't know how to get through this. Please." She'll try, perhaps one last time. Obviously, adding a young impressionable dragon to this unstable mix of terror and worse(?) is a wonderful idea. ... Is what Irianke could say. She must certainly be thinking it, but none of that thinking actually displays on her pained face. A pain wrought from disappointing this girl who thinks she needs a dragon. "I have an alternative suggestion," she says, hesitating before explaining what it might be, watchful to how Lycinea might react. Lycinea is silent, staring up at Irianke's pained face, her own face a reflection of pain, though hers is from the wealth of experiences she never sought that now haunt her dreams. She doesn't weep any more than she was to begin with, the tears slipping silently now and again, nor does she pitch a fit or do anything unreasonable. She just waits, only a shiver betraying the anxiety that must be rising in the waiting. Irianke continues to cup Lycinea's face, her thumbs working gentle caresses all throughout, until finally one travels to push back a lock of damp hair behind the girl's ear. "First, you must know that I would never send you away. So before your brain jumps to that, don't. But," with that warning spoken, the goldrider's voice quickens, not allowing Lycinea the chance to react in words. "Would you consider living with my family for a spell? See the world, experience the trader life I," accidentally, "Left. Open air and skies without a wall to trap you within?" There's a sound that might've been a gasp if it hadn't been choked off at the suggestion. Anxiety rises, tension in her face increases and Lya stares at Irianke. There's a silent battle that's all too visible on her face. Would she... could she refuse such an offer? Would she want to? When it comes from Irianke who's as close to a mother as she's even had or likely to have? Lycinea's, "Couldn't I Stand and then go if I don't Impress?" isn't a 'no' but rather an attempt at compromise. At least it's a fairly sane and rational thought, sort of. There might be hope for her yet! When redirection, gentle in its own way, fails to deviate Lycinea from her intended course, Irianke has little to do but exhale slowly. Her pained face is less pained and more thoughtful, though not in the scrambling sort of way. It's a thoughtful that looks at Lycinea, appraises her, and cares for her. "If you can get cleared by a mindhealer as to your state of mind then I will allow it. Can you promise me you'll speak to someone?" If someone were to describe Lycinea, they would unquestionably use the word 'stubborn' as one of the adjectives, but stubborn does not always mean stupid. In this particular case, it doesn't. She has to know she's not been behaving normally, that the trembles that come on her unexpectedly when she sees - or think she sees something out of the corner of her eye haven't gone unnoticed. She definitely hasn't missed that one of the assistant headwomen is looking at relocating three of Lycinea's obnoxious roommates because she sometimes wakes screaming or can't fall asleep without the glows bright. In short, it doesn't surprise her, and yet, in the moment it's said aloud it takes an extra breath to sink in. The expected has come. What she thinks to say is not a 'no,' but a very genuine, "I don't know anyone," and those mindhealers who had been on loan from other places have since been sent back to their postings to resume regular duties. It seems, though, that she's not unwilling to try, if this is what it takes. Lucky for Lycinea, "I do." Irianke does. "I can ask her to fly in here to speak with you. It might help to have a face who isn't here often, if at all, to speak freely with." The goldrider rises and moves to her vanity, plucking off a few vials and a pot and returns to add a few drops of something nice smelling and a handful of salts. "Would you be comfortable with that, my darling?" Lycinea's nod of her head is slow, but not uncertain. The biting of her lower lip might make her seem uncertain until she's blurting something else: "I'm so sorry I ruined your dress, Irianke. I'll replace it. You can have the Headwoman take it out of my pay. Whatever it cost. However long it takes me to pay it back." There's desperation for this, too. The dress. The dress. The one that a tiny torn band of which is still curled around her finger and knotted in place like a ring. What Irianke wants to say differs from what she ends up saying, though a flicker of what she wants to say is exposed in her expression. Just for a second. What dress? But the realization that this is important enough for Lycinea to have such a reaction to it stops Irianke just in time. "I'll defer it for a few turns. If you go with my family, it will be payment enough to get letters as to the state of things. If you Impress, you won't have time to think of such things until you graduate." She'll let her pay her back. Isn't that sweet? Lycinea seems to think so, for her exhale is one of relief and there's tension leaving her shoulders that has been there for nearly a month, since they were rescued. "Thank you," is emphatic and truly grateful. It's only then that Lya seems to realize that she's derailed the whole conversation, the whole reason, whatever it was, that Irianke is here when she wasn't scheduled to be, that she came into the bathes at all. "I'm sorry," is abashed, and abruptly so. "Do you need me for something? Or the bath? Should I get out?" "Enjoy the rest of it. Take your time. I have to find K'del and pinpoint dates a few seven from now to meet with the Lords and Ladies of the Reaches coverage area." Irianke sounds thrilled. "I may not be back tonight," she adds as an afterthought. It's not an infrequent occurrence, certainly nothing suspicious. "Yes, ma'am," Lya's answer is quick and meant as an answer to all of it. "Did you want to meet with N'gan before meeting with his cousin, Lady Edeline?" It's the sort of question a good assistant knows to ask. When the almost-once-heir rides for your Weyr, might as well pick his brain beforehand, right? Even if the worth what's in that brain might be... well. "No," says Irianke, a faint smile curling her mouth up. "I would like to go in with no preexisting ideas of what to expect, except I already have some ideas so it's an entirely difficult neutral to maintain." The goldrider rises. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Lya." Lycinea's nod is small and she shifts to sit back in the pool finally. "Sweet dreams, Irianke," she dares the name, just the name without her title, but quietly. It's not a formal goodnight. Those will be for other nights, more formal nights. Not tonight.
The 'no' left her chest too tight and it was all she could do to not have a panic attack right there. She would not Stand. The healer would tell Irianke. She could not Stand. |
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