Logs:Old and Wise
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| RL Date: 18 December, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, K'del |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dahlia visits High Reaches Weyr and K'del. He's old and wise. No, really. |
| Where: Living Cavern and Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, Kashal/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, N'klas/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions, Zezenia/Mentions |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. To Cadejoth, Taeliyth hasn't been completely absent. Indeed, during Dahlia's illness, Taeliyth made certain to reach for him once every few days to update the pair on her rider's state, too often a horrible 'no change' or 'worse'. Now those times are long gone, but not wholly forgotten by the queen - these things have a way of imprinting on a gold. When she reaches for Cadejoth now, her overtures are her familiar scent of the shadowed undergrowth, of things green and growing, with none of the acrid concern that once choked out these better things. « Cadejoth, does K'del have time for lunch with Dahlia today? We're taking the afternoon off. » Maybe for the first time since the plague began. To Taeliyth, Cadejoth has forgotten much of those terrible days-- lucky Cadejoth-- but no doubt his rider has not; that may account for the eccentricity of his reply, chains quivering with slight tension before easing off amidst that shadowed undergrowth. Good. Safe. Good. His presence acknowledges Taeliyth some seconds before he actually replies, no doubt giving him time to confer with his rider. « Yes, » is his eventual answer. « He'll make the time. I'll keep a watch for you. » It will be an onerous task, no doubt. To Cadejoth, Taeliyth is oddly twitchy. Surely, this is not proddiness because people would be watching that, but something about the day (or perhaps what has preceded the day) has made Taeliyth impatient. She manages not to to rush the bronze, but her impatience takes the form of little things rustling through the underbrush, crawling uncomfortably along her neck. She wants to be gone from where she's at, but there's work yet to be done. « Thank you. By his leave, we'd like to explore your Weyr after. » She doesn't expect Cadejoth or his to object, but the option is there should their continued presence be problematic. « Strictly off-duty, » she adds as an afterthought. To Taeliyth, Cadejoth's aware of that twitchiness, though he himself may find it difficult to distinguish properly: he's always in movement, always twitchy in his own way. « Of course, » he confirms to the young queen. « We will see you then. You are welcome. » Refuge, if she needs it, is available. Dahlia is a little early as lunchtimes go, but she spends whatever time it takes for K'del to find her in the living cavern having a conversation with some of the local aunties. She's all smiles, knotless and dressed in a simple peasant style dress of pale mauve, that stops just above her sandaled feet. Off-duty, indeed. When the Weyrleader is spotted coming into the cavern, the young woman makes her excuses and moves to meet him. "Dee," greets the weyrleader, dressed down in light trousers and a cotton shirt the same light blue as his eyes. Whatever he's been doing this morning, he's kept himself well presented, or cleaned up since; despite the late summer warmth, he's comfortably well put together. "Welcome to High Reaches. We could take some food outside, if you'd like? To the lake? While the weather's nice." "I'd love to," Dee answers K'del with a big smile. "It's good to see you," is emphatic, "I've wanted to come a couple of times because there's been so much," and K'del's advice probably would have been happily taken if there'd been time to get it, "but I'm sure you've been busy, too." Still, she doesn't say with what. "How are things?" It's a broad enough question to let K'del tell her what he likes and not more. K'del's smile, turned towards Dee, is warm. "I think we've all been busy," he admits, clearly deliberately keeping that vague rather than focusing on the more difficult parts of recent months-- at least for now. "But I'm well. Things are good. I've had the kids here for a visit, and it's been... nice. I missed them." He gestures towards the buffet, picking up a napkin and some bread in order to make a sandwich for himself. "How are you? Cadejoth said Taeliyth seemed... bothered." "I'm glad," for the first. "Ali and the kids are well?" is slightly more than polite inquiry for Dahlia seems to care genuinely about the answer. It's easy conversation to make, but perhaps that's a relief to the young goldrider after so many more complicated discussions at home. She waves her fork in the air to dismiss the concern for Taeliyth. "Oh, it's nothing, really. I'm alright. Busy." There's almost certainly more she would-- will tell him, but not when they're passing through a busy buffet line. "Taeliyth's just out of sorts because the dragonhealers are talking about Zaisavyth being expected to clutch soon which reminded her that Zaisavyth's going to have eggs on her hatching sands and that they're Vhaeryth's eggs. Girl stuff." Dee probably doesn't dismiss the queen's frustrations so much to the queen herself, but for K'del she'll roll her eyes, making light of such silly concerns. K'del coughs, though it's really more of a verbal exhale: he's not about to make a comment on the subject of 'girl stuff' though it would be an easy one to make. "Hope she'll work it out," is what he says, instead. "Maybe the actual eggs will excite her. They are part-Fortian, after all." Tracking backwards, perhaps by way of moving the conversation away from (poor) Taeliyth should Dee wish to do so, he adds, "She's well. They're well. My youngest is nearly two and a half... it's hard to believe they're all growing up so much. No babies, now." "Well, she is only one," Dahlia says with pretended superiority, "We, adults, have to make some allowances for things, hm?" There's a twinkle to her eye that indicates she's making light of her own youth. "Maybe she'll be better after she has eggs of her own, even if she doesn't want eggs of her own." That contradiction of not wanting Zaisavyth on her sands, but not really wanting to use them herself must be more girl stuff. Dahlia's willing to follow the conversation back. "I'm glad. I get news from my parents back in Southern. They had a baby earlier this turn after so many turns of-- well, not. It's a different perspective now, to hear about the children growing up there." At least she doesn't ask after plans for more children, so there's that. K'del's mouth twitches, ill-suppressed humour obvious in his expression. "Poor young Taeliyth. She'll understand one day." His sandwich prepared, he steps away from the table, waiting for the goldrider to be ready to join him. "Congratulations to your parents. And to you - big sister Dahlia. You've been to visit, I'm sure? It hasn't made you long for one of your own?" Dahlia shares in K'del's humor only briefly, her expression abruptly sobering at his last question. She finishes with her own plate giving herself some moments to collect her suddenly scattered thoughts. She clears her throat as she collects a drink and motions that K'del should lead the way. It's succinctly that she finally answers, "No, I'm a little young yet." In her mind. "I'm--" it probably strikes her as odd to say as it is to hear: "-in mourning." Too young to consider babies of her own, but not too young to be in mourning. Life is unfair and cruel sometimes. "I'm sorry," is quiet and genuine and horrifiedly apologetic; K'del may be mentally kicking himself for the misstep, and otherwise falls to silence. Stepping around the tables, bypassing weyr residents and riders, is a good reason not to say anything further to begin with. "You couldn't have known," Dahlia is understanding, forgiving. "I'm told time helps," she observes simply. There just hasn't been a lot of that yet. She's quiet as she follows him, but by the time they reach the freer air of the bowl, she's willing to venture, "Mirinda's turned out to be much better than I feared when I found out about the Weyr Council vote and what might happen." "It does." Help. K'del is blunt in saying that, blue-eyed gaze focused ahead, on the bowl and the distant lake rather than on Dahlia. "It hurts and hurts and hurts for a long time, but eventually... you wake up one morning and it hurts less. Just a little. And you keep going, day by day." His voice is heavy as he says this, but largely emotionless. And at the end: "Mirinda's a sensible person. She can't help her relatives." But there's a wince there, too. "I'll-- look forward to that day." It seems it hasn't come yet. That's a quiet admission that respects his words, his experience. Dahlia believes him, she just hasn't found that truth yet personally. "She seems it," is an easier thing to say. "We've been working-- well, really well together." Even if there's something a little uneasy about that. It's easier, too, for K'del to focus on Mirinda-- his own hurts are complicated and deep, but turns and turns in the past, now. Time-- nearly a decade, now-- has healed. "I'm glad to hear it. It helps, having someone you can work with, closely. Not arguing all the time. Not... it's better for the Weyr. Do you mind?" "That's a complicated question," that one that sounds so simple. Dahlia takes her time to think about it as they walk, or if not her answer, just how to put her mixed feelings into words. "I like working with her. She's teaching me things. Things I would've messed up without her. I don't-- it's not her fault that she ended up with Fort's seniorship. I'm not sure she likes that any more than I do, though probably for different reasons, if no less personal." There's almost certainly more she could say, but that's where she stops for the moment, worrying her lower lip a little as she thinks. "For now, it's what Fort needs." That's careful. "I'm worried about what happens if Zaisavyth clutches a gold. That would change things." She probably can't anticipate all the ways how, but it's clear that that much has been on her mind. "Speaking of, how're you liking having three goldriders to keep you busy?" There's some good humor there, the tone lightening the conversation. "Additional golds always do," K'del acknowledges, freeing one hand from the lunch he's carrying to run fingers through his hair. "It's unlike any other situation; you don't get to choose who you promote, and suddenly they're supposed to be partially in charge, and you're supposed to trust them. Jocelyn's a smart woman, though. I'm sure she'll be fine. Though, honestly, we don't need three goldriders." "Perhaps better to have too many under a confirmed senior than--" Dahlia starts to hazard, but stops herself, wrinkling her nose. "Or maybe not," since technically Fort would be in the same position, goldriders under a confirmed senior. "Anyway. I've had enough of goldriders and silly golds and-- everything. I'm taking my first afternoon off since I can remember. So tell me something else. Anything else. What's new at High Reaches? What's Kashal's latest and greatest feat? How's N'klas doing?" She offers possible topics that don't stray toward golds and leaderships and all the complications that are now so familiar to her life. K'del turns his head to glance side-on at Dahlia, and abruptly smiles. "N'klas has just recently moved into his own weyr... not even sure how I feel about that, you know? How can he possibly be old enough. Kasey is still moody and moping over not Impressing. Kashal likes throwing blocks at people. They make me feel old, sometimes. I turned thirty-seven, a while back. Twenty turns since I first became Weyrleader. Feels strange." "Twenty turns is quite a benchmark," Dee allows with a laugh, "Longer than I've been alive," comes so innocently that the impish look is all that gives her away. "It sounds like you're the example for how much growing we all still have to do once we're settled in a position, in a home, in a life. It doesn't all end at twenty." She grins at him, a little relentless. "What makes you feel young, K'del?" In answer, K'del sticks out his tongue at the goldrider: so there. "Not a lot makes me feel young, these days," he admits, more soberly. They're nearing the lake, now, the ground changing from hard-packed earth to mottled sand. "Used to be I could be friendly and fun with weyrlings and young people, feel like I was connected. It's more difficult, now. Think Ali and I both feel older than we are... may just be a curse of our positions, and the complicatedness of our lives. I'm not sure." Laughter is healing, too, they say, and perhaps for Dee it is. K'del's silliness has her in stitches, grinning broadly by the end, if not quite tearing up. "I think you should pose just like that for your next formal sitting for a dragonpoker deck," she recommends sincerely, still beaming. "It might help," with feeling young. "I feel older. That probably sounds silly to you, but surviving-- I don't feel so young anymore. But maybe we can help each other. They keep telling me I need to take some breaks. So maybe we can find some things to do from time to time, the kind of thing that makes people feel young." Innocent fun, there's no guile or flirtation to her pensive offer. That laughter makes K'del smile, though it's possible he finds it just a little perplexing; young people these days! "No, no I understand that. I felt a lot less young after Cadejoth caught Iovniath that first time. Well... both older and younger, too. Suddenly aware of how little I knew, but also so much more aware of all I had to be responsible for. But," more firmly, and as an abrupt change in direction, "that'd be fun. We should." No innuendo here, either. K'del is supposed to be respectable; clearly Dahlia just was surprised by learning otherwise. "I probably will be pretty busy through the rest of the summer," the young woman reasons, leaving behind responsibility to focus on the more pleasant, "But maybe come fall we can find some holding somewhere that will let us rake leaf piles to wander through and has some fresh-fresh cider to drink." This is Dahlia's idea of let-your-hair-down fun. "I heard 'Reaches sweep has some of the best cider," she lifts her brows in inquiry of the expert. "Nabol," is the answer to that, though K'del admits, after a moment, "I never have liked the taste of apples. I'm sure I can find something else to drink... the leaves, at least, will be lovely. In the fall, then." It's a deal. For now, however, there's a sunny boulder to sit upon, and a lake to watch as they eat their lunch. |
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