Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
This is nothing like the picnics Madilla prepares. Arekoth is serving as picnic blanket, one leg (the good front one) a bench for those nearby. Cookies are serving as main course (albeit this at least has the fortune of falling after lunch, and hopefully the kids have eaten something). And Madilla is absent. Perhaps that's why H'kon looks worried, looks wary, when he carefully half-unwraps a bundle of cookies, glances toward the caverns, and then holds it out to the kid seated to his left. Wide-eyed. Blink.
Lilabet seems to take a certain amount of pleasure in H'kon's discomfort, not that it stops her from being perfectly polite as she reaches out to accept one of the cookies. "Thank you," she says, looking a little more like her mother than usual as she smooths her skirt and sets the cookie down upon it: tidily prim. Cookies are a draw for Dilan, too, and maybe even more of a draw... except that Arekoth is here, and most things pale against the pure joys of that in the mind of a newly-turned-five boy. He turns around from his seat, staring up at the brown, and waves, gleeful. "Can I play with him? Please?" "Dee. Be good."
"You're welcome," answers Lilabet, manners for manners. That, at least, is easy enough for the brownrider. The little boy, well, he could be harder to deal with anyway, without the brown giving that mournful little clicking noise in the back of his throat to follow up Dilan's request, even while he cranes his neck to peer down. H'kon is not helped. "I'm certain there will be time for that before your mother would have you home." Cookies are held more toward Dilan. Here. Eat these.
It takes a raised-eyebrow glance from his sister for Dilan to comply with the request, turning reluctantly away from Arekoth (best. playmate. ever.) and towards his rider. His, "Thank you," is a little bit more sulky than his sister's, but he's been too well brought up to forego it. Lily, in the meantime, breaks off a piece of her cookie and eats it, and then turns her attention back towards H'kon. "You're not really used to dealing with children, are you," she prompts, forthright. "It's all right. We won't turn into savages without Mama here or anything."
Dilan might turn away from Arekoth, but Arekoth keeps his attention focused neatly on Dilan. And even gives the toes on the end of the leg, the bench-leg, a little flex and ripple. Lilabet gets a careful look, while H'kon studiously ignores the brown's attempts. "No," is probably the most honest answer he could have given her. "And I trust you will not become savages as such." A glance over to Dilan. H'kon does take a cookie for himself, seemingly, though he doesn't go to eat it just yet.
Dilan has seen those toes, and he seems utterly delighted with them. His cookie disappears in short order: cookies are great, but brown dragons? Best. "Good," says Lily, cheerfully, gaze meandering away from H'kon, away from her brother, and off into the distance of the spring lake, and the relatively blue-ish sky. "My friend Sashani said we ought to be awful for you, like she and her brother were when their Mama started spending time with someone new. But that seems stupid. Anyway, you don't pretend like you're our father. So I don't mind. I," now she is looking at him again. "Had a father. And Dee has one, and he says he cares about me too, but he's still not mine."
And Arekoth is utterly delighted with any attention his number one fan can give him. Which is probably why he blows hot dragon breath at Dilan's head. H'kon and Lilabet may be caught on the periphery of that jet. H'kon's uncomfortable twist of his mouth is entirely unrelated to his dragon's attempts to distract the littler one. "Hmm," is agreement enough for whatever role it is he actually has assumed, though it comes with furrowed brow. Less troubling: "I knew your father. Arekoth and Jeibeth were from the same clutch." A sidelong glance to be sure Dilan's not drowning himself or choking on cookie. "I'm not certain if your mother has told you as much," is clearly still directed to the older of the two.
That warm air makes Dilan squeal in delight, turning about on his perch so that he can try and clamber up a little further. It catches Lilabet's attention for a moment, but only one-- she is struck by something else entirely, staring at H'kon in a way that is very nearly wistful. Words are lost on her, temporarily. Then, "I didn't known that. It's all right - I won't bombard you with questions about him. I don't really remember him, but the rest of his family do. That means Mama saw you Impress, too. I guess she didn't know you to notice, though."
It's the quiet that gets H'kon looking back to the girl - and that distraction, in turn, which makes his setting down his cookie and extending a hand at the ready, lest Dilan should misstep, probably the most natural thing he's managed since setting up shop with his dragon, the cookies, and the kids. "I did not know him well," is nearly apologetic. "Much of my attention was on Arekoth himself, for that time. But we did go through weyrlinghood together." If it's an invitation, it remains as cryptic as that. "Even so, it is good to have had someone there. If incidentally." And now, to the little brother: "You should sit, have another cookie."
Dilan doesn't misstep (he's five now, remember, and five-turn-olds are far too grown up to do such things!), but he does turn, however reluctantly, when H'kon instructs him so. His sigh is over-dramatic, but the way he takes the brownrider's hand and uses it to propel himself back down is really quite natural. "Fine," he says, pouting. "I bet she would have cheered for you, if she'd known to," says Lilabet, confidently. "Everyone says he was shy, so I don't think you would have been friends anyway. Not good friends, anyway. Was Arekoth was good as a human friend? I guess he must have been."
And when he's back down, H'kon holds the promised second cookie out to the boy. "Arekoth needs someone to be responsible," is still to Dilan, "and teach him patience." The slightest grating emphasis at the end is in time with a glance up to the brown. Lilabet is offered more of the cookies as well, trusted to pick her own. "Those who are quiet innately will be more so upon impression, I believe. Even those more outgoing... a dragon is a great change." Arekoth's huff almost sounds a reiteration of 'great'. If only the kids could hear his voice too. Alas. "I don't imagine any human friend might be fittingly compared. The bond is quite... unique."
Dubious, Dilan gives H'kon a studying glance. But he takes the cookie, and, for now, doesn't seem inclined to go back to climbing... for all that he is still turned so he can look at the brown and wave around his cookie. Lilabet, too, takes another cookie, though again, she sets it carefully down on her knee, brushes crumbs off of her hands, and concentrates on the conversation instead. "Maybe I'll find out, one day," she says, with a certain intensity of purpose. "Or maybe I'll be a Harper. Dee wants to be a brownrider, but his father isn't a dragonrider. He has an aunt who is, though. Mama knows her."
Arekoth is looking at that cookie, when it gets waved around. There's a certain dramatic flare to the way the dragon licks his lips, and those talons are once again rippled. Anticipation? Encouragement? It's enough to have a flicker of exasperation over his rider's face, as H'kon looks back to that little boy. "Arekoth certainly seems to have had an influence," is quiet, though not so much that Lilabet - or Dilan, for that matter, or Arekoth even - might not hear it. More to the girl, and her much more developed ability for conversation: "Riding is a more nuanced path in an Interval, to be certain." But rather than elaborate, he offers, "My mother had started down the path of a Harper." It even comes with a shrug. And now he secures, and bites, a cookie of his own.
"Do you want a cookie, Arekoth?" That's Dilan, who knows, surely, that dragons don't eat cookies... but it's polite, surely, to ask anyway. "They're really good." He either doesn't notice, or doesn't consider what H'kon says, too distracted, but Lilabet does - and she looks thoughtful for it. "Had she? And then she got married and had you, instead? Mama says she was tempted, sometimes, to give up being a Healer and have us, instead, but I guess we wouldn't have been us if she'd done that. She likes babies a lot." Now she picks up her cookie, eating it cheerfully.
Arekoth surely knows, as well, that dragons don't eat cookies. But little boys who are willing to share cookies are interesting enough. So he licks his lips again, and lowers his head a bit more, and fans out his wings. "If you could make a cookie of bloody herdbeast, perhaps," he's willing to relay to Dilan. "Do you bake at all?" is almost playful. A full on change when he turns again to the girl: "My brother, me, and my sister," comes as quiet confidence. H'kon takes another bite of that cookie. "Now my brother," more conversationally, "he is a Harper, full journeyman."
Dilan's laughter is of the giggling variety; he seems genuinely delighted by the playfulness of H'kon's reply, and even Lily seems... pleasantly surprised? "Sorry Arekoth," says the boy. "I'll eat extra cookies for you, instead." His sister's mouth opens, her dark brows knitting, rather as if she's having to come to terms with this idea of H'kon with siblings. Or is it the necessary conclusion that H'kon was once a child? "A Journeyman. What kind of Harper-ing does he do? I want to tell stories. What about your sister?"
Even H'kon can't help but give a little hint of a chuckle, though he schools himself quickly enough. Arekoth, of course, is thrilled, and rumble-clicks something to that effect, response to the joke or acceptance of Dilan's offer, or some mix thereof, with wingtips flicking, and tail tip too. "Law," is almost bemused. "I had always thought mostly so he would know how he might break rules without suffering consequence." It's his lip, rather than any remains of cookie, that is gnawed on next. "My sister stays with my parents," comes cautiously. "Among other talents, she has taken it upon herself to see I'm supplied with cookies, while the Weyr's stores are thin." But he gives Lilabet an encouraging nod. "You must have stories of your own already." Or subject changes.
Delighted, and now, of course, several cookies into a potential sugar-high, Dilan wiggles in his seat, feet not quite swinging into Arekoth's forelimb, though it's a close-run thing. He even tries a click of his own... but it's not terribly effective. "Law," repeats Lilabet, not terribly excited by that, though she's nodding along. "Oh, these cookies? You must tell her thank you for us. They're lovely cookies. We haven't had many, recently. Only at High Reaches Hold. I suppose I have lots of stories. I'd like to know more. Make more, maybe. People say I imagine too much, and maybe I do, but it's so much more interesting than the real world, sometimes."
Silly boy. Clicking is like this. Arekoth demonstrates again. H'kon manages to keep any amusement at the girl's lack of enthusiasm more or less contained, but for crinkling at the corners of his eyes. More softly again comes agreement of, "I will tell her. She was quite insistent I share them. She'll be pleased." There's an earnest enough interest as the brownrider hears out Lilabet's talking of stories, and he's quite reflective for a time after. "Some of my favourites, when I was younger, were the more imaginative ones. Though those can have truth in them. Sometimes it's even more clear, for the inventiveness." It's almost a musing ramble, and he brings himself back with a quick shake of his head, and a glance back toward the bowl, toward where he might expect to see Madilla.
Sadly, Dilan's second attempt is not much better than the first, but that doesn't mean he's not thoroughly enjoying himself - giggling, and also clapping along with his approval. "Good," says Lilabet. "I wouldn't want her to think her efforts have gone un... unwanted? Something." Her brow furrows when she says that; it's obviously not the word she'd intended, but... alas. "That's what I like about stories, I think. That there's truth, but it's all wrapped up in interesting things, like a present. It's like... hiding vegetables in a sauce." She's pleased by H'kon's attentiveness, but not so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she doesn't catch that glance. "She'll come out as soon as she can. If we get too much, I can take Dee for a walk, if you like."
"-warranted?" the brownrider offers, over the sounds of Dilan's giggling, and Arekoth's far-too-eager coaching (that has taken on a steady crescendo, because, surely, the rest of the Weyr would love to partake in this moment). It's Lilabet's sauce metaphor that brings a laugh from H'kon, ending in what might even be, for at least a moment, some sort of approving and appreciative smile. At least it doesn't last long, and the world doesn't have to end. When he turns from his Madilla search back to the children near him, he's got that old, furrowed-brow look of concentration back on his face. "You're not too much," is meditative once again.
Lilabet's nod, and the bright smile that accompanies it confirms it: H'kon's is a much better word than the one she came up with. She's pleased, too, by his laughter, and his smile, and apparently unbothered by the fact that neither last for long. "No? Well - good. We do try not to be. I know Dilan can be... he just really, really likes Arekoth." Her voice is low as she says that, all the better not to be overheard (for better or for worse) by the five-turn-old himself, whose latest click is, well, a little better. Or might be, if it were less overwhelmed by giggles. "Oh - there she is." Probably. There is a dark-haired figure approaching distantly from the other side of the bowl.
"Arekoth likes him as well," is confidential in return. "Of course, he is always pleased for flattery... but even so. Dilan is simply a small boy. He acts it." A shrug of his shoulders signals the end of the lean that had come with all that secrecy. Arekoth, undertaking an experiment, adds a rumbling almost like a growl to herald a click, and waits, eager, wingtips in motion yet again. "Ah," comes from H'kon when he follows Lilabet's gaze, as best he can. "Are you planning to finish your cookies? I do have some for your mother as well."
"Dilan, have another cookie," prompts Lilabet, leading by example. Cookie-eating interrupts Dilan's attempt at emulating that growl, but only temporarily... manners only go so far when there are growls and cookies in offer. It makes his sister wrinkle her nose, but she manages to maintain her sedateness despite such provocation. "Dilan," she says, with an almost sigh, "is far less interested in following me on everything, now that he has a little brother of his own to lead." Life is so unfair. "But I suppose that was always bound to happen." Madilla's figure is clearer, now, and moving quickly towards them.
H'kon considers the boy, and the cookies, and the inevitable flying crumbs that are so delighting his dragon to see. (Good boy, Dilan. After Arekoth's own heart and mannerism.) "Even with now acting the older brother," starts as he slowly turns back to the eldest, "he will still look to you, as a younger one." There's something nostalgic, and perhaps even borderline reassuring, in the thin smile H'kon gives to the girl. "Even if he comes less often. Perhaps even about or for Vinien."
"Vinien," confides Lilabet, "doesn't like me much. I think he thinks I'm bossy. But--" She gives H'kon a wan smile, and nods. "I hope so. I'm sure you're right. It's just strange. It's a whole new family, and I'm only sort of--" "Mama!" Dilan's caught sight of Madilla, now, who is close enough to be called to. He attempts to clamber up into a standing position again, using H'kon's shoulder to balance on. Madilla waves, for all that her expression is... not wary, but cautious. And apologetic.
"I imagine it would be," H'kon admits, the twist of his mouth sympathetic, if a bit tightly drawn. "And of new families all at once, I've had no prior experience." The lift of his eyebrows is almost apologetic in that. The lift of his hand, to grab steadying hold of the back of Dilan's shirt once the boy is up, is automatic, leaving what's left of the pack of cookies to balance on his knee, unassisted. Arekoth's dual noise comes in the same rhythm as Dilan's 'Mama'. The slight red under the brownrider's close-trimmed beard might be reaction to that - or simply to having Madilla so near the end of an honest conversation with someone else. Even if that someone's her daughter.
For Madilla, it must be a strange (and perhaps even nervewracking) thing to approach, but she smiles nonetheless, evidently reassured by the fact that no one is crying or looking horrified. "Hello," she says, as she gets close enough. "I'm so sorry-- you know how things get." She's glancing from one child to the other, but there's some sense that the apology is primarily directed at H'kon - H'kon, to whom she gives the faintest of nods a moment later. "Dilan, you should sit. Really." In a way, Lilabet seems... not quite put out, but perhaps disappointed at her mother's timing; she keeps turning to glance at H'kon, then straightening, and looking away.
H'kon goes so far as to give Dilan's shirt the slightest tug to encourage him down, only bringing his hand away from the boy, and to the cookies, once he's certain no one's going to faceplant off of Arekoth. "We did well enough," is a bit constricted, formal even, and also saved for once everyone's more or less settled. One of Lilabet's glances at least is caught, and returned askance. But to Madilla, the man simply holds out the remaining few treats. "Cookie?"
Dilan sits, sighing, his mood as changeable as ever: now he'll pout. In contrast, Lilabet flushes and looks away when H'kon catches one of her glances, but seems cheerful enough when she says, "He's understating it, Mama. We've had a lovely time... well, I have, and it's hard not to please Dee when there are cookies and Arekoth involved." Madilla dutifully accepts one of the cookies, nodding H'kon her thanks. "Well," she says. "I'm glad. Lily, do you want to take Dee for a walk?" He's restless. And she's giving the brownrider an apologetic glance. Again.
It's the word 'understating' that makes the man smile again. The cookie wrapper is folded once the healer has accepted the offering, and H'kon leans forward, just a bit. Lilabet is given a slight nod, certainly ecnouragement and not permission. If there's anything hidden, otherwise, in the look on his face, well... it's hidden well enough that maybe it could be caught only by a child's instinct and intution. "Arekoth will be waiting when you're back," is certainly more for Dilan's benefit.
Lilabet's smile is bright when, after slipping to the ground, she turns back towards H'kon and Arekoth. She directs it at the brownrider in a way that could be thanks, or appreciation, or just acknowledgement, though it's not precisely clear. "C'mon, Dee," she says, as she turns her gaze from the brownrider and towards her brother, letting him jump into her arms. "'bye Arekoth!" says the boy as they go (evidently, H'kon and Madilla don't rate a mention). "They weren't too overwhelming?" Madilla wonders of H'kon, gaze following the departing pair.
Arekoth gives a tri-syllabic reply of Koth-noise to the departing boy, pushing into a stretch with barely time enough allowed to H'kon for clearing off his leg. H'kon's expression is almost speculative as he tracks the first portion of the childrens' trek, though Madilla soon wins his attention back. "They were... quite conscientious," the dragonrider decides, words spoken carefully, some emotion present, if not readily distinguishable. An follow-up approving nod comes in time to Arekoth's settling back to the ground.
That is surely what prompts the peal of laughter from the departing pair; Dilan is well pleased. "Were they? I'm glad. They're good children, both of them. And they like you, I think. Well. I know Lilabet does... Dee just likes Arekoth. I just don't like to put you on the spot like that." Madilla reaches out, aiming to squeeze H'kon's hand, if she can manage it. "So - thank you." And now, finally, she'll take a bite from the cookie.
H'kon nods agreement to Madilla's assessment, not so quickly as to have made the gesture without putting thought behind it - of course. "It seems to me that Dilan has a great deal to contend with now, for all he may not be fully aware of the task before him. It cannot be a bad thing for him to have so straightforward a relationship as he does with Arekoth." For once, one of those looks that the rider aims to his dragon is simply appreciative and content. Whatever might have been added on the subject of Lilabet is left simply to a dip of his head as H'kon's attention goes to taking the hand reached for his own. "All settled, then?" He inclines his head, just faintly, in the direction whence Madilla had come.
The sigh that answers H'kon's reference to Dilan is a clear expression of her continued uncertainty over those newly revealed connections, though she doesn't seem to have much to actually say on the subject. Her fingers squeeze his as she confirms, "Settled. As much as it can be for now, anyway. Newly posted Journeymen aren't supposed to arrive days ahead of schedule, but the others are showing him around, and that will do for now. I'm glad he has Arekoth. And that... they have you, too."
"Let's hope that he shows as much zeal for his duties for the rest of his time at the Weyr, hmm?" H'kon laces his fingers the more tightly around Madilla's, giving just one, short nod, and a low agreement of, "They do." There's no clear direction in the forward motion of his feet when he gets to moving them, and he certainly won't lead her far, with Lilabet and Dilan still wandering nearby, and Arekoth waiting. But it's motion, which is at least enough to ease whatever else doesn't quite make it past his lips.
Madilla's laugh is for her new Journeyman, a sound of agreement that doesn't need any further words. Nor does she apparently need to say anything else on the topic of her children's relationship with H'kon, though perhaps that's because her expression says it all: her smile all but glows. She matches her stride to his as he walks, head turned so that she can glance at him, and says... nothing at all. Maybe words are overrated.
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