Logs:Party Carnage
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| RL Date: 7 November, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lilabet turned ten! Hosting parties is exhausting. |
| Where: Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 3, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Y'rel/Mentions |
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| Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender. Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts. It's not every day a person turns ten, and that's probably for the best: as much fun as Lilabet's turnday party was for her guests, dealing with that many sugar-hyped children is a bit much for most people. They've all been carted off home, now, at least - even Lily and Dee (the latter fast asleep: utterly worn out), who were taken back to Delinda's. Madilla has collapsed onto one of the couches off towards the back of the room, eyeing the party's detritus with somewhat feeble consideration. Even she, it seems, has her limits. They were everywhere. H'kon moves slowly back to the common room, the cold that had reddened his cheeks apparently not enough to knock the glazed look from his features. He's nearly to Madilla when he finds some plates. "Evryl is back with her mother," he greets, even as he sets to slowly, meditatively stacking plates, one by one, without looking at them rightly. He's watching that woman whose idea it was to organise this whole disaster. "She was talking to Dilan." Stack, with the monotone of an over-stimulated mind in his voice. "Now she wants to help oil Arekoth. Henalith is no longer sufficient." Stack. Unable to continue sitting while H'kon collects plates, Madilla slowly draws herself back to her feet - and then promptly bends, picking up someone's lost ragdoll so that she can set it aside. "Oh dear," she says, with a laugh that is nonetheless still sympathetic. "She's... certainly enthusiastic, that one. I'm sorry." Her gaze slides away from the brownrider and back around the room, rather giving the impression that she has definite regrets. "Lily enjoyed herself, at least." "I will need to hope she is also forgetful," says the brownrider, grasping at nothing, and finally looking back to the table, to find all the plates stacked. At least, all within reach on this table. He turns his back to it, gripping the edge of it as he leans, attention back on Madilla. "Then it was worthwhile," is serious, if still tired, and still a bit overwhelmed. "You can sit," he offers, one hand moving from the table to wave from her to the couch. The corners of Madilla's mouth turn up, amused despite her own tiredness. "She has the mind of a-- it's rude to say 'trundlebug', isn't it? She's a sweet child, but not the brightest. She'll forget soon enough, I'm sure." Someone's scarf is on the floor, too, and this also gets added to her pile, but the couch does call. "Sit with me?" is a compromise, at least of sorts. "Worthwhile," she adds, as she does sit, "but not something we'll be doing again. It's a good thing Dee knows we had this because it was a special turnday." And thus doesn't expect anything similar for his own, in three weeks time. H'kon consents with an inclination of his head, stopping only to push chairs back in (first brushing crumbs from one) as he goes. "So," as he reaches the couch himself, "we'll not be doing this again until his has a zero on its end," is faintly corrective, even the act of sitting apparently restoring some vigour, enough for inflection in his voice again. There's hesitation before H'kon leans fully back, and then goes so far as to rest his hand, just lightly, at her leg. Madilla's hand comes down to rest atop H'kon's, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. "Four turns," she agrees. "Probably, by then, we'll have forgotten all about the pain and it'll seem like a wonderful idea. And if Lily's still around, we can make her help out." Not wholly serious, she turns her head so that she can smile at the brownrider. "Thank you for helping out. I know it meant a lot to her. Means a lot to her." "I will fly her back here if she is not," comes quietly out the corner of the brownrider's mouth. "I was pleased to do so," comes much as a solemn oath might, although a smile finally forces its way to his face with, "even with all the children." H'kon looks back to her, that smile fading soon enough to a more natural, if certainly not discontent, expression. "You'd said his is soon?" That remark, the first one, obviously pleases Madilla: her smile, for a moment, is near beatific. "'Even with all the children'. Mm. I grew up with nearly as many children around as that, all the time, but... it's different, of course. I'm glad not to have quite so many to deal with, on a regular basis." Certainly, her long exhale seems to signal relief. "Next month. Spring. Only a few days in, but... still." Spring. "Not quite," H'kon muses, letting even his head rest back now, eyes on the ceiling, fingers pressing lightly where they rest on Madilla's thigh. A deep breath is taken in, held, released slowly, though his has much less the sound of relief in it. Maybe it's preparation, for, "I'd had a thought for that. If it's not overstepping." A quick glance, then back to the ceiling. "And of course, if the wing is not concerned with other matters." Madilla's eyelids flutter closed, leaving her to inhale, and then exhale again, and otherwise sit quite still. "It's not overstepping," she assures him, without disrupting this pose she's found herself in. If anything, she sounds smugly pleased, her fingers aiming to squeeze his, just gently. "What were you thinking?" "Not so much by way of celebration as of a gift," H'kon specifies. "But I could at least show him some of the leatherwork in dragonriding. See to making a riding belt, or something of the like, if he's not lost interest in Arekoth by then." The rider shifts and clears his throat, his fingers halfway to leaving hers before he settles. In a more formal tone again, "The boy may as well learn more of what it is he's so set on doing." Surprise does prompt Madilla into movement, though it's a straightening of her shoulders and a lift of her eyelids for the most part, and the broadening of that smile as well. "Giving a gift is a very long way off overstepping," she murmurs, turning her head so that she can look at him, now, and positively beam. "And that is a lovely gift. He'd love it. Far more than anything you, or I, or anyone, could buy for him. Thank you." When H'kon does look back to her - and it takes a bit of time - it's with a cautious pull of eyebrows toward the centre of his face. "It's giving an involved gift." Clearly worse. "I will see to finding leather for it. Not from the Weyr's stores, of course." With the planning comes looking away, to that pile of plates he'd made earlier. "It's good that there will at least be some time, with more sweeps, more drilling." The corners of Madilla's mouth twitch again. "Of course," she says, with an affectionate note of teasing. "Faranth forfend you be involved with my children." Her gaze lingers a few seconds longer, and then drops towards her lap, which may well be a deliberate way of ignoring the rest of the mess. "More sweeps," she repeats. "More drilling. But not as though you're preparing for-- I don't know, all out something. I hope." "But they are your children," H'kon reminds her, speaking softly now. "You made that clear once. I simply do not wish to... Well. I will trust you to alert me of... anything." The eloquence ends there, it seems, and he looks quickly to Madilla in time to share a grimace with her, before reaching up with his free hand to rub at his temples. "The current hope is that, with an increased presence, and one generally known, those who are preparing will only go so far as that." He drops his hand. "Within our wing at least." Madilla allows a low breath to escape, but she doesn't seem bothered: her nod, certainly, is sure enough. "I will," she promises. "Though I don't expect ever to need to. I trust you." It's the other topic that has already captured the most of her attention, in any case; it knits her brows, draws another exhale, and has her watching H'kon more closely, more cautiously. "'Within your wing at least,'" she repeats, solemnly. "I hope you're right... and that other wings act in a similar way. Sensibly." H'kon presses his hand more securely to her leg, even if some people might come and go, and, Faranth forbid, see. He shakes his head, even closer as he is - feels? - now. "Let us also hope that reasonable actions should have the proper effect on unreasonable people." This time, the sigh is one of settling, if perhaps not full relaxation. "It is good to have the heavier drills, at least. For the wing, on its own, in itself." In answer, Madilla's fingers press down upon his once more. "I hope so," she agrees. "At least your Wingleader knows that he has some stable, sensible riders to depend upon." Her smile is likely intended to be reassuring, though the knit of her brow has yet to unravel entirely. "The drills - because it keeps you all busy? Something to really... sink your teeth into?" "And also some who are hot-tempered and eager for a fight," H'kon adds, more thoughtful, this time, than overly cautious. "But yes. To some extent. It focuses. More, it makes dragonriders feel as dragonriders. There-" Another look to her, and then away again, distracted again in the telling, "There is something good in all working together. It's an instinctive thing, among dragons. People also, I suspect." "A Healer always has a job to do, Interval or Pass. A purpose. But it's more difficult for you," says Madilla, musingly: she's thinking out loud, her thoughts clearly more for her own edification than for H'kon's, since presumably he knows this as well, if not better, as she does. "I suppose playing messenger, and riding sweeps, isn't... the same. So I can see why it would appeal - and I'm glad. And if they keep people focused and working together on something that isn't potentially detrimental if not disastrous, that's all the better." "Perhaps all the better if it does have the potential of detriment, or of danger," H'kon counters, though his tone is more one of consideration than argument. "I thought of that often. When Arekoth caught Iesaryth, with that whole mess... how different might it have been, with Thread, with some common enemy. Unity that would not be simply a matter of practice, but of necessity... Hm." That counter surprises Madilla, though clearly more for the ideas than that there is a counter. She draws a breath in, letting it whistle through her teeth; she's still, reflectively so, right up until the moment she nods. "That is true," she says, finally. "There is less... there is no time for disunity when there is a common enemy to unify against. I suppose that is half the problem, with Nabol." Her brows have reknit. "Some see it as a common enemy, and some... do not wish to be involved. In a way, that makes it worse." "Hm," is the beginning of a chuckle. "Half the problem. You have it even there." H'kon gives his head a slow shake, and shifts on the couch, leaning forward, his hand moving more to the inside of Madilla's knee, his other arm propping over his own. "The Weyr has been divided in all but tragedy for... nearly so long as I have been here. And even then." At least, now, he seems to have come to terms with it. More or less. Although his fingers press against her, and he frowns deeply. "You did not come to know me at my best," is almost, maybe, sort of out of left field. Not quite. Madilla's hand shifts, accordingly, to allow that move - though she won't let it stray too far from H'kon's. "And even then," she repeats, her uncertainty seemingly rather less to do with believing that - for she clearly does - and rather more to do with not especially liking it. Rather more placid is the way she agrees to that last remark of his; if she finds it out of left field, she's not showing it. "No," she agrees. "Not your best. I would have been very surprised if it were, given the circumstances." H'kon's, "Hm," is this time an agreement, if also somewhat grudging admission. "It was a long time uncertain. And still, you are here." A bit of a smile to her when he squeezes at her knee once more, and holds it, holds his gaze on her. Returning that smile, Madilla seems almost - almost - amused. "Well, of course," she says. "Where else would I be? Even then..." But she trails off, apparently contented to simply return his smile, squeeze his hand. H'kon nods to her, sitting straighter, shifting his feet to a more ready stance. He doesn't get up, though, until such time as he's managed, "I'd not have you elsewhere." Promptly followed by, "We should finish here. It's growing late." That makes Madilla laugh. "I'd not have you elsewhere, either," she answers, grinning. His fingers get one more squeeze, and then she withdraws her hand, glancing, now, back to what's left of the party. "You're right, of course. I suppose I've energy enough--" She stands. It's time. And they clean. |
Comments
Leova (Varied (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 08 Nov 2013 19:39:11 GMT.
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From bits like H'kon's teaching Dilan (involved! as a present!) to drills and unification (and Nabol) to the homey cleaning up... guh. <3
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