Logs:Passion in Rain
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| RL Date: 17 May, 2015 |
| Who: Dee |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Dee reflects on her passions, those of the flight and those of her life. |
| Where: Lakeside Grove, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'stian/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Jemizen/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, N'jem/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Some adult themes. Slightly back-dated. |
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>---< Lakeside Grove, Fort Weyr(#2047RJs$) >---------------------------------< Hardy mountain trees cluster together on the far end of the lake, providing a shady retreat beneath high, spreading branches. Right along the edge of the trees, several stone picnic tables are set up to welcome fresh air diners. Here and there within the grove, tumbled boulders from ages ago provide places to sit for those taking a break from a walk around the shore. Toward the Bowl wall, the trees grow more closely together providing a somewhat secluded spot for a private conversation or quiet contemplation. She was glad to have the wheelbarrow to steady her as she came into the grove that looked so different without torrents of rain seeping through the clustered trees and in some places, pouring as if there were no trees to be concerned with. The grove had been tidied since the big storm, but there was still much to do that would best be served by someone who knew what they were doing. There were broken limbs listing off trees and some exposed roots that had taken gouges and might be helped to recover. That's why she was here. She wasn't here to remember the afternoon of the flight and become however briefly weak-kneed. The way the heat built and wouldn't be cooled even by the cold rain as she ran away from the caverns, ran to try to shed herself of some of the need Eliyaveith brought to the Weyr. She remembered imagining as she ran, as she had imagined with every gold flight she'd been through, that it must be so much worse for those with dragons. After all, she only had Crin, her tiny and rarely seen green, to feel the edge of it, but that seemed to be enough. By the time she had gotten here in the rain, she was drenched and lost. She'd lost her sweaters along the way, and it took her days to track them all down, and even so one of them was damaged beyond repair and she would have to pay the stores back from her meager income. It was, therefore, somewhat fortunate that she had been skipping all gather opportunities since she came; easier to pay the cost. When she'd seen him coming, it didn't matter to her who he was. A rider, surely, since his leathers were obvious, and no drier than her skirt. He was a person to scratch the itch, to solve her need. He didn't need a name or a favorite color to do that. As she met him eagerly, willingly, and already shirtless, she thought briefly about her first time. It had been almost just like this, but no rain and beaches and regrettable sand instead of smooth stone for her to be pushed roughly against and for them to sate their needs. That one wanted to talk, after, especially when he realized the circumstances; she was grateful this one didn't. It wasn't that she minds talking; no, Dee likes to talk, but what is there to say? It was brief and it was necessary, but it wasn't special, it wasn't the sort of thing that ends in happily ever after and she didn't expect it to. Maybe, if she were Holdbred, it would be different, she mused as she set about her work, shucking off memories of his solid frame and how good it had felt to find that outlet in the moment. She might be embarrassed if she were Holdbred, but as it was, the only reason she could think of to be embarrassed would have been if Jem had made an untimely visit to the grove and seen them together. Dee didn't like to think of it as wantonness. Her first partner had stammered and apologized and Dee didn't want any of it. She took precautions then, as she had now; a trip to the infirmary for special tea, on top of her usual tea, and a quiet request to a female greenrider to take a long moment between. It wasn't that she didn't want children. She felt she was too young to think about wanting or not wanting them, even if other girls her age had them already, and some more than one. She felt it likely she would want one, or some, when the time came, to cultivate with the same love and attention she had always given the plants. It was sort of the same thing, wasn't it? She shifted, grabbing the next branch and pulling herself with practiced ease into the tree to lean out and clip a precarious bough from the low branch. If she did want children, she'd want what her parents had first, but she didn't want that now. Her parents loved each other and were happy, but so much of their lives revolved around each other and around her and Jem and she didn't want that. She wasn't ready to let her world shrink down to such a narrow focus when there was so much to see and do. So many ways to be of use and so much to learn. Already, she'd learned much in coming to Fort, about the place itself, about the people, and about herself. She still suspected, perhaps even hoped, there would be not lifemate for her on the Sands, but with Eliyaveith risen and not knowing if there would be a second clutch she would need to Stand for, if the first left her sweaty and still herself, unattached, she felt she'd needed to come to a firm resolve on the matter: she would Stand. For both, if necessary. She would not take Lilah's gamble. She would bet on her own ability to overcome unhappiness and find joy in riderhood as C'stian seemed to have, with Liesanth. No one she'd spoken with ever regretted their lifemate, just the life that came with. Even Hattie hadn't seemed to regret that, and certainly not Elaruth. She resolved she would find a way to be content if one chose her. She would find a way to still help people, to farm, to help the craft help more people. She smiled as she shimmied back down the trunk of the tree. Dragonfarmers were not a thing. Perhaps she could make it one. Helping this way was Dee's passion. The rest didn't matter. A lifemate or no lifemate. A lover or no lover. Children or no children. She would pursue this to the end of her days, somehow, someway, she'd make it work. The rain began to fall, she could hear it in the greens above. Her eyes slid toward the particular rock she'd occupied briefly during the flight, and then to the next tree in need of her particular attentions and smiled. Perhaps passion was best in the rain. |
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