Logs:Parental Interrogations
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| RL Date: 28 September, 2015 |
| Who: H'kon, Lilabet |
| Involves: Harper Hall, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon has a request of Lilabet. He makes a wrong step. |
| Where: Apprentice Lounge, Harper Hall |
| When: Day 10, Month 12, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Damir/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Raija/Mentions |
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| A sore thumb, with his riding jacket, his wingsecond's knot, his complete and utter lack of anything book- or scroll-related, but H'kon has found an old, plush chair, full of holes, that fits him well enough, and his natural expression has kept any of those few other apprentices in the lounge who might've been curious enough to try and eavesdrop away. The result is that, thus far at least, the time he has set aside for his... well, his Lilabet, has been fairly quiet. "You're enjoying it still, then," is summary thus far of the smaller talk he's attempted. Not his purpose, this catching up, but between Madilla's influence on his social niceties and a seemingly genuine interest in Lilabet's reports, he manages to wear an expression almost pleased, as he reaches for the half-finished klah that's still a bit warmer than lukewarm, klah that was never piping hot to begin with. Something about the way Lilabet sits, straight-backed and proud, suggests she's pleased to be seen here with her not-father; there may be some prestige, indeed, in being related to dragonriders. She's a few months off sixteen, now, and has the height and gawky grace for it, and her answer to H'kon's not-question is more polished than it might have been even a few months ago. "I am. It's... everything I imagined it would be, but also not. Better, I think. I mean, no one has taken one look at my work and declared me a prodigy, instant Mastery and all," which, going by the pink flush on her cheeks, may have been a childish fantasy at one point, "But I'm learning so much." That look of H'kon seriously considering smiling remains in place. The klah mug, however, lowers, a little emptier now than it was before. "Hm." Satisfied agreement. "Better to work for it. Even with talent." He eases back into that chair, so much as he can without compromising his posture, which still waits, still keeps his back mostly straight, his shoulders mostly square. A breath lifts his chest and lets it drop, and there's a twitch at the edge of his mouth. Then, the blunt redirect: "There are two more questions I'd come to ask." "Oh," says Lilabet, with the faintest shrinking of her shoulders; disappointment, so obvious, but not put to voice. "No, of course. What is it, H'kon?" She straightens all over again, pushing herself into a more business-like stance, those radiant blue eyes of hers fixing themselves, determinedly, upon the brownrider. That disappointment catches H'kon off his guard, even threatens to derail him, green eyes darting away, once, as if they might trace its path. But the man can be only what he is, and that fleeing moment isn't time enough. He falls back to, "That drummer boy," uncertainty left only to push his back off the chair once more. "Is he still... an interest?" There's no sign of that disappointment, now, Lilabet's expression set in a way to discourage further entreaty, though it's equally plain she's not wholly pleased about this turn of the conversation either. "His name," she says, pointedly, and with a hint of teenage defensiveness and irritation, "is Damir." That would be a 'yes' then. "Damir," repeats H'kon, and it might even be an attempt to smooth whatever further waves he seems to have made, though his expression isn't really conciliatory. Still, that name is offered with a hand raised. For peace. A little nod, hand still up, as if it might hold off any further adolescence while he gathers up his thoughts. "The second question, then, is more a request. Your permission," hand still up. "To meet him. Speak with him." "Why?" is at least prompt, and not... wholly defensive, though it may look for a moment or two as if it is heading that way, given the mulish cant of her chin. That hand only starts to drop very, very slowly. And it only starts; it never completes the trip. But H'kon can see her now, without obstruction, and he takes a breath, and nods once more, that curt brownrider's nod. "Because I've not yet done so, but should. One man to another." The nod repeats itself. The fingers of that half-lowered hand twitch, but not for any overall change. It takes longer for Lilabet to reply, this time; longer to put her thoughts together, and to stop what must, surely, be an internal no no no no no NO and no. "Why should you? Do you not trust me? My judgement? We're not doing anything wrong." "If there was a question of trust," comes back quickly enough that he can't help, didn't foresee, some of that wingsecond command getting into his tone, "I'd certainly have found him on my own by now. And easily." The last with a less militaristic voice by far. "Because this is something that should be done." "He's seventeen," is evidently intended to convey more than age. Lilabet's voice is quavering a little as she attempts to make her case, her hands now clasped tightly together in her lap, an action that is more reminiscent of her mother than she probably realises. "H'kon, it's not like we're going to get married. I just-- we just-- he's only just even noticed me and now you're going to scare him off." A slight exaggeration: from her reports home, it may have taken a few months for it to progress from 'crush' to 'dating' but 'only just' is certainly inaccurate. The word 'married' - the thought of it, more - has H'kon's jaw tensing. Tension holds a bit longer... but then, this time, after a breath is taken, it comes out as a sigh. H'kon's back hits the chair once more, and that hand drops a few more fingers' widths. "I'm not going to scare him off." Unspoken: unless he needs it. But that shouldn't be overly readable on the full on H'konface that is watching Lilabet now. "But I would like a read of him. Best it come from him directly. Lilabet chews her lip. Lilabet ducks her gaze. Lilabet... sighs. "Can't it wait a little longer? Maybe..." She's thinking fast, now. "Maybe you could come and visit me at turn's end, and we could say hello." Together. "Maybe..." She glances up again, those blue eyes so serious and so very, very uncomfortable. "It's not like we're serious. It's just a thing. Maybe you didn't date when you were my age, but..." "Your mother is like to be with me, if we come for turn's end," H'kon reminds her. That might be something like amusement just right there, in the corner of his eyes. The brown in the courtyard might also have twitched his wings a little. But who could know the synchronisation of that? H'kon's hand has raised again, then, right up, to rub at one of those eyebrows. "It's good. That you've the opportunity now. Better," and he seems ready to go on, but doesn't. He's peering at her from beneath his fingers. "Serious or not, Lilabet. I am asking. And this should be done." "And if I say no?" Lilabet is truculent; a teenager. "I am asking," again, but this time, a bit softer. "And I'd not seek him out." 'Yet' it does lurk a bit in his voice on this pass. H'kon's hand does drop, all the way, down to that klah mug. "Nor would I ask if I did not consider it important." "But," says Lilabet, straightening and pressing her lips together between words. "Why... why do you want to get a read on him? What is it you hope to discover, H'kon? If you don't like him, if you find fault... do you expect it to change my mind?" This is less teenage, more thoughtful, more Lilabet-of-old. H'kon considers it a moment, but only that. It's an answer he has, if not immediately at the ready. "I would know who it is who's had your interest for so long." 'Only just' aside. "And I'd not expect you to change your mind, no. But this is something I would do for Raija," fingers raised from the klah mug again, "or would have, for my sister," under different circumstances. He's at least found a calm voice of reason once more. And now it's just those eyes resting on her. Waiting. Lilabet's reply is quiet. "But not Dilan." As quiet as it is, there's bitterness audible, there, and an obvious sense of dismay and disapproval; a budding feminist, here. "No, H'kon. I don't want you talking to him. Right now... I don't even want to talk to you." She's standing, sounding more sad than angry, though her expression suggests betrayal. "Lilabet," is the best he can do there, standing as well, though no steps will come to have him follow her. H'kon just stands, at a loss for words, or anything that might smooth this over. As quickly as Lilabet turns away, it's probably not quick enough for her to hide the fact that her eyes are now brimming with tears. "I can't talk to you right now, H'kon," she says, in a tone that manages to be more 'brittle' than 'emotional.' "Go home." And she's gone. |
Comments
Edyis (23:59, 28 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
H'kon is so sexist! Wait. Am I supposed to be encouraging teenage rebellion?
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