Logs:Not For Nothing
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| RL Date: 14 May, 2015 |
| Who: Ebeny, Casseny |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: While Ebeny prepares for her duties, Casseny suggests one of her own. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clouds make the skies leaden and gray, but no rain falls. A cool breeze often blows. |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions |
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>---< Galleries, Fort Weyr(#745RIJMas$) >------------------------------------<
The entrance to the Sands and Galleries alike is little more than an
archway and a section of flat stone that curves into a broad pathway in
front of the Galleries that are carved into the right-hand side of the
Hatching Cavern. This pathway is set with three flights of stairs that
lead all the way up to the upper tiers of the Galleries; one set near the
entrance of the cavern, one set at the northernmost end, and one set
between both. Beyond the pathway, that flat stone dissolves into the Sands
proper, a golden expanse that sits before the large, odd engraving that
lines the far wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red
Star.
The Galleries themselves are rows of flat seats carved from the stone wall
and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the
golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by
a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other
Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated
spectator's box at the topmost row. Often, the galleries clear out around midday, when those with the time or inclination to observe queen and eggs go in search of lunch, and today it leaves Ebeny as one of the few still lingering in the tiers of seating, her chosen perch quite a way up, where a decent view of Sands and occupants is afforded. She's abandoned her jacket and cast it down at her feet, a clipboard balanced on her knees, the hide secured to the board beginning to fill with notes formed of half-sentences and occasional egg-shaped doodles. Freshly arriving at the stone seating, Casseny's free of any evidence of lunch; no plate in her hand, no crumbs hiding in her sleeves. Her palms rub against the sides of her legs like she's working off nerves, but her face is clear of trouble. Despite her gangly age, she makes it to her mother's place as quiet as a thought, all the while studying the back of Ebeny's head like, if she were to stare /hard/ enough, she might be able to see straight through to the Weyrlingmaster's point-of-view. She's there for a couple of seconds, just behind Ebeny's shoulder. Then, toes flexing against her shoes, she points straight ahead and declares, "That one." It could be the greenish looking lump sticking out of the sand, or it could be-- anything. Accuracy from this distance isn't discriminative. Ben is that still, the only motion the twitch of her fingers as she inks in the curve of an egg in the top left corner of her page, that it's difficult to tell whether she plays along and simply doesn't address her daughter as soon as she arrives, or if she truly doesn't notice that she's there until she speaks. When she does, her pen stops, a half-moment's worth of ink bleeding into hide to create a shadow across her sketched shell, and then lifts safely away from the page as the greenrider tilts her head and follows her daughter's gesture as best she can, without quite looking back at her. "Your favourite?" she asks in a murmur. "Or one you hope is for you?" Or neither. A soft sigh from Casseny, but it's not much more than her deciding to close her mouth instead of speak. Her eyes narrow slightly, lips pouting just as subtly; she seems to contemplate the eggs for the first time. The shrug that first answers Ebeny isn't much help, whether she's being looked at or not. Maybe the questions knocked her off-course. She drops a little bonelessly down one step. Finally: "Seems like it's going to be trouble." For Ebeny. Which hopefully makes the previous answers 'neither'. Or this whole thing an extremely even-toned joke. "You should write that down." Sitting next to her mother's seat, the teenager invites herself to read the notes so far taken, finding them much more interesting. Ben arches a brow, but she obediently notes down a brief description of the egg and 'trouble?' before looping a ring of ink around the little jumble of words, the whole thing done with a steady acceptance that lacks any indulgent, patronising edge. Perhaps she's leant to just trust some things. She has nothing to hide, and even obligingly tilts the clipboard in Casseny's direction for her to get a better look, though the doodles and thoughts are more guesses as to colour and size, and notes concerning which eggs Elaruth has paid the most attention to during her visit, than proper evaluations. "If Eliyaveith is going to rise... I don't know if it's bad luck to sort out the second chamber of the barracks for her clutch," she admits. "When it could be for nothing." Tilting the clipboard was enough. So maybe, just maybe, Casseny leaning her head nearer Ebeny's shoulder has ulterior motives than just reading better. Not that it's obvious looking at the girl's rapt attention to the scribbles. Her hands are back on her upper legs, thumbs pressing in slightly. Something's on her mind. "It's not for nothing," she corrects without ego, late, only after she's read every prediction. Her head lifts away from Ebeny to look her in the eye with understanding, not argument. "It's for weyrwoman Lilah." "...And worse for her if I have to clear it all away again and put it back into storage," Ben says softly, conflict clear in her muddy-green eyes before she meets Casseny's gaze and seems to let that settle and dim her concern to something more distant and easier to manage. "It's better to believe it'll happen. There'll be months yet. Signs." She reaches out as though to curl a gentle arm around her daughter and tuck her in against her, perhaps more confident in the lack of audience that she won't embarrass her, though nor does she push if she finds reluctance. Moments pass in silence, then: "Cassie?" It's more invitation than prompt, quiet and simple. Casseny sucks in a huge breath with her nostrils as Ebeny bats the issue back. But she gets it. And it's obvious that Ebeny gets what her daughter was getting at, too; not the greatest ammunition for a teenage push-back. Distracted enough, she lets her mother's arm steer her in with just a little tensing of the shoulders. She's reluctant to let her hands leave her legs. Palms scrape her thighs, fall off into the gap between. Her fingers mingle together, unconsciously finding all the tiny pinpricks of her craft and imperfections of her youth. She doesn't startle, or move rapidly on the invitation, and the impression is that she was kind of expecting it. Conveniently, she's both conceded to her mother's snugging and doesn't have to look at her. The Sands probably look like somewhere else as she says, "Lux's Ledge Hold. I found a note in the infirmary. They got hit really hard but no one's gone to relieve them yet. It's unstable but they don't have enough hands to /make/ it stable." Ben doesn't seek to smother, the drape of her arm light, though she does lean a little while she has her daughter there, both offering and seeking what comfort she can. She waits as if it's the most natural thing in the world - something she's accustomed to doing - and lets the quiet stretch on for as long as is necessary, no nudges delivered of the verbal or physical variety. "...You mean there are people at risk?" she questions, her distant focus on Elaruth as the gold oh so carefully adjusts the position of one of the eggs near the centre of the clutch. "They need the Weyr's assistance? Or you'd like the Weyr's assistance for them?" "The note came by firelizard. It sounds like they might've lost the runners in the mudslide." Casseny's not prone to assumptions, guessing; it sounds like it tastes bitter to her. One hand leaves her lap, bringing up a finger and thumb to pick at her lower lip. It's a little chapped. She finds something to tug. "Everyone's cautious because it could happen again. Another mudslide." Though there's a tinge of anxiety, and Casseny's shoulder flexes as if in discomfort against Ebeny, she manages not to inject a lot of disapproval-- or really much judgment at all-- into this 'everyone's policies. "They could be sending more people to be trapped, or hurt, and I want to go." The last comes out in a kind of jumble, like she got impatient with her own well-thought-out nature. The Weyrlingmaster's lips part as though she'll speak, but they close again just as quickly, pressing together into a thin line that forms a more severe expression than is the norm for Ebeny. "... I get that you want to help," she says slowly, when she manages to get her words all in the proper order. "And I think it's a brave and kind thing to want to do, but... as much as I might agree they need support, your safety is more important to me." She bites down on her bottom lip, considering, before she offers, "If you need to know what's happening out there, Laurie and I could take you to have a look? It wouldn't be anything official, though it could... maybe give you the information you need to make a... well-reasoned request?" It sounds like as much as she can give by way of encouragement. Casseny's neck tenses discreetly when Ebeny's only two words in, having picked up the gist pretty quickly. Waiting patiently throughout, even her previously fidgety fingers stilled, she narrows in on Elaruth. The golden mother delicately nudging her eggs. Appropriate enough to be both mocking and sobering. "Everybody there is somebody's me," she mutters, in volume moreso than lack of enunciation. A gentle denunciation of a mother's priorities before, with a calm and collected demeanor, she pushes up, extricating herself from Ebeny's arm. "Okay." There's a certain warmth-- for Laurie, for not having been utterly shot down-- but not enough to stop her from sounding quite so practical. Like she's Lux's Ledge's representative and this has been some kind of proper negotiation. "Or it could be someone else since you have that second chamber to see to." Making it hard to tell if this is teenage justice, a jab at the Weyrlingmaster knot-- or nothing. "And you're mine and I love you." Ben aims for matter of fact, soft as her voice is, yet she's, as ever, not able to leech much affection or adjacent emotions from her tone. "But I can respect what you need to do." Arm and hand go back to supporting the clipboard, though she's unable to settle to study of it, or adding more notes, and tips it forward to hug against her chest, pen held in such a manner as to avoid inadvertently staining clothing. She glances between queen and daughter and back again (and again), until she can maintain a certain steadiness and not blurt out her first thoughts; any regret or chastening snipe back for what there could be of a perceived swipe. "I've months for that," the greenrider declares. "Laurie will be upset if it's someone else, besides." It's a good excuse to hide maternal pride behind - the potential anger of her green. "We can go now if you want." Instantaneous: "I do." In the spirit of one-upping each other-- unless Casseny's been planning this all along. Not that there's anything smug in the contemplative tug of her mouth. The young healer looks more like she's planning ahead; her thoughts have bounded up the stone steps and rushed out into the midday air the way the girl herself never would. Once did; doesn't now. Rather, sitting up stick-straight, she waits. Gnaws her lips just enough so that, when she looks over somewhat abruptly at Ebeny, there's an illusion like she's biting back a half-smile. Her eyes say something else. Her chin's almost coy. "You know, for Laurie." She thinks openly about saying something else. Instead, turns ahead and pushes herself easily to her feet. Palms wipe off against her legs. /All ready/, is all her next gaze at Ebeny proclaims. If she's been had, there's nothing about Ebeny to suggest that she realises it, though her easy acceptance is a little akin to the same variety of blankness she's so good at adopting. When she stands to follow after - no attempt made to /lead/ - her left hand frees itself from the clipboard and reaches like she might deliver a gentle shove in answer to whatever it is that she sees in her daughter, but she settles for ghosting her fingers across Casseny's nearest shoulder, like she'd pretend to guide her on ahead. "Move it, my girl, or she'll eat you," she murmurs wryly. Someone else - anyone else - might find it a believable threat. Dedicated as she is to this new course of action, as they leave the cavern, she can't help but glance back at that egg; at her notes and 'trouble?'. Worries for another day. |
Comments
Lilah (21:10, 14 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
There are always more worries. But this was a nice moment between mother and daughter. Makes me want to see more of their relationship. :)
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