Logs:Not Asking
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| RL Date: 30 June, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, N'rov, Elaruth, Vhaeryth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: An encounter, some investigation and some silence. |
| Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions |
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| Some might have taken time off to grieve. Hattie hasn't. She's not been as strong or as prominent a presence in the caverns as usual, nor has she actually been seen much at all, but what needs to be done has been done. This afternoon, both she and Elaruth have left the hideout of their weyr to sit along the lake shore, some distance from the sight of a handful of the new weyrlings getting to grips with the qualities of sand, rocks and water. Close enough to watch and see; distant enough to not hear so much or invite distraction. Hattie leans against Elaruth's left shoulder, her lifemate a barrier of sorts against the elements, both rider and queen silent in their observation. At least it's not raining; Vhaeryth had flown overhead some time ago, but it's now that he returns to land a careful distance from queen and weyrlings alike. They, the weyrlings, are so small. He, the bronze, is so capable of splashing mud and more. It's to Elaruth's right that he lands, and from her right that he approaches, careful where he puts his paws. While N'rov isn't visibly seated upon his dragon's neck, one of the weyrlings beyond them might see where the rider's wound himself handhold and footholds in the straps of Vhaeryth's far side. Elaruth diverts her attention from her offspring to another of her line, calm and not demanding or pleading when she extends her muzzle towards Vhaeryth to offer a wordless greeting. Hattie is slower to notice a nearer presence, wherever she's drifted off to far enough away that it takes the shifting muscles and weight of her queen for her to realise that Elaruth's focus has been pulled elsewhere. She can't see the whole of the bronze from where she sits, but borrowed sight and a moment or so to blink back to the real world have her lifting a gentle hand his way with a murmured, "Hello, Vhaeryth." Given that greeting, Vhaeryth continues to near, his rider perforce with him; he exhales a warm breath for the little (if still bigger than he is!) scarred queen, even lowering his head once he settles so that her rider might touch his jaw if she chooses. His is a warm presence, as though he'd soaked up sunlight wherever he'd gone for sweeps and not lost it again to the wind. N'rov waits while his dragon unabashedly shares attention, only then when it looks as though it might take longer finally says, "Hello, Elaruth." Lower, "Ma'am." Hattie smiles just a tiny bit as she softly smoothes a hand along Vhaeryth's jaw, her second, "Hello," entirely unnecessary, and though her expression is a little watery, she manages to pull herself together just as she lifts her hand away and clocks N'rov's presence. Once again, it's Elaruth who reaches out with a greeting first, seeking to brush her nose against the edge of the bronzerider's shoulder, investigative, but not insistent. Hattie eases her shoulders back and tries to sit up that fraction straighter before she supplies, "N'rov." He rumbles, does Vhaeryth, deepening and deepening into the depths of bass; his rider smells to acute dragon-senses like he does, of flight and leather and a hint of sweat, of smoke from some smallhold's fires. "Are you going to eat my knot," N'rov teases Elaruth with quiet affection, turning that shoulder to make it easier for her as though she might indeed have developed such an outrageous appetite. Elaruth might. With that invitation, she gently investigates the curve of his shoulder, then over to his shoulder blade, until she snuffles a touch at N'rov's elbow and leaves off, his knot kept intact and in working order, for now. Whether it's attempted humour or just a coincidence that she makes a sound an awful lot like a quiet sneeze, well. "If she does, I'll make you a new one," Hattie offers without amusement, perhaps simply heavily deadpan, or a low promise. "The weaving would be a bit beyond her." "And if she eats my shoulder..." only the bronzerider seems to think better of even his definitely deadpan comment, under the circumstances; he adds, "Which she wouldn't." Which, to another dragon, might be a warning instead; this is more like reassurance that he knows. He does twist to see what, if anything, Elaruth's sneeze-resembling sound might have left on him. Vhaeryth's gaze is blue, a dark blue, alternately reflecting the queen and the weyrlings of her clutch; he's supremely unconcerned. She might have exhaled vtols and it would all be good. Her exhale might have fogged up his jacket a little for a moment or more, but Elaruth has otherwise left not a mark on N'rov or his clothes. She does, however, aim a careful nudge at his side when he twists, chiding, as though to suggest she could resent the need to look, no matter that she appears as unconcerned - if more off-colour overall - as Vhaeryth. "You'd have to make your own one of those," Hattie sighs out, drawing her knees to her chest, long coat flowing over her legs, as she abandons any pretence of being completely put together. "You're okay?" is an abrupt thing, distraction perhaps, her meaning plainly not whether or not he's survived her queen's snuffling. Vhaeryth would not have been so kind. Chiding or no, and there is a moment's grin at the impact, N'rov evidently has to look even more carefully now, just in case. Perhaps she left something beneath where the knot hangs? Or perhaps in his pocket, though for that he has to be more careful lest he dislodge himself from the straps. "Not great," the bronzerider says finally but measuredly. In that pocket, he finds... a small rock, shiny where the light catches the quartz, not shiny where it's caught some lint. He holds it up, squinting at Elaruth as though she might have put it there. But despite his play with the dragons, it's layered on the tiredness in his voice. "I'm guessing you don't need me to ask how you are." "I'm sorry." For manners' sake, or an apology for what contribution she might have made, or earnest sentiments, it's difficult to tell exactly what Hattie means to convey with those two, heavy words. While Elaruth finds distraction in the form of that shiny rock, muzzle lifting more tentatively towards it than her nosing at N'rov, lest she inhale it like she couldn't him, (or perhaps she respects it as his property, no matter her interest), her rider looks away and squints across at the weyrlings now making a retreat from the edge of the water. "I can't keep my head up and give any of you the real answer, so... no," she confesses. "You're probably best off not asking." Perhaps he sees it as simply how she feels. Regardless, N'rov doesn't press Hattie on the point, nor does he quiz her as he had Lilah on the other Holds. He holds the rock, too, with care. "Not asking, then," he confirms. All he does is stand with her (even if she's sitting; even if he's still hanging from his straps), for a time. There's no quip, no prod. There's nowhere, just yet, he has to go. That he doesn't move off; that there's no quip or enquiry or demand - that's likely what does her in. That they don't leave them on their own. At some point, Hattie looks up at N'rov for a fraction of a second, a glassy shine to her dark gaze, then she curls forward and just presses her forehead to her knees, silent. Elaruth's nosing at the rock takes on a new dimension, in that she tries to press her nose into his palm, grateful, for just a moment, before she lowers her head to her rider. Sooner or later, the Weyrwoman will look up again and everything will be as it was before. It distracts him; he inadvertently fumbles the rock in keeping its rough scrape from her soft hide. But it's of no matter. He might find it later, in the summer, or someone else might, perhaps even one of the very weyrlings that were exploring not long ago. Perhaps it was meant to travel from Ruatha's hills to here. He doesn't bother the woman with his gaze; it's his dragon who watches over that other pair. Later or later yet, after she's looked up and after that interval's passed, matters will move on and so will they. It's Vhaeryth who will keep so carefully in touch with Elaruth through what's left of the day. |
Comments
Kaleidoscope (00:02, 8 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
Awww. The feelz. "Not great" and "better not to ask", what a pair, and what a touching moment of silent togetherness. <3
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