Logs:Pastries
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| RL Date: 10 September, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, Ulyana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Southern Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ulyana brings pastries, and a blue who needs reassurance as to K'del's condition. |
| Where: Southern Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Val/Mentions |
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| Twilight is beginning to fall at southern, though the days are getting longer, down here; it's later than it seems. Above, Cadejoth and Isyath are playing chase in the skies; below, K'del-- his shirt untucked and half unbuttoned-- is sitting in the clearing that serves as a wallow for his bronze, an untouched picnic laid out around him. His expression is half-resigned and half-melancholy, gaze trained towards the path as if in the continued hopes that his date for the evening might magically show (alas, no; Ali is plainly caught up in other business). A darker patch of blue manifests against twilight-touched skies and Qhyluth makes his presence known to any nearby dragons with the murmur of water and foggy, incandescent tendrils. He descends to a neat landing some distance away from where K'del is, while Ulyana is practically dismounted by the time he touches down. Only once the messy business of her sickness (a sickness that's growing less and less severe as the months go by) is dealt with that she starts to remove a bag from the blue's straps for the purposes of carrying to the recuperating bronzerider. She might not be the date he's looking for - but, one hopes, she'll suffice for a time. Cadejoth expresses his acknowledgement of the blue as he appears, his thoughts bright and merry with the discordant music of chain and bone; but he certainly makes no effort to drop towards the ground after him. K'del glances up, hopefully, at the sound-- but Ulyana is not Ali, and hope turns to a sympathetic twist of his expression and then, more carefully, to a more cheerful, "Ulyana. Welcome to Southern." He no longer looks like he's on death's door; he has colour, now, and moves without the stiffness that once plagued him. He might even be nearly ready to return to work! Qhyluth lumbers cautiously closer, his eyes limned in yellow. Ulyana, for her part, offers a crisp salute to K'del before she answers in her usual monotone, "Weyrleader. Thank you. He did not believe that you were improving," a tip of the head, mechanical as it is, indicates the blue that's looming behind her. "I felt it best to show him." A smile tries to emerge, but it falters and, instead, she offers the bag - roughly the size of a regular backpack - to him once she's close enough. "I also thought you might enjoy those. I was not sure if your injury made it difficult to eat or not." Clearly not, but the concern is there all the same. The bag, if he chooses to take it, is well-insulated and packed with carefully wrapped pastries of various sorts - and some are even warm, despite the trek between. "I am-" A beat. "We are glad that you are healing." Qhyluth is not the first to suffer from this particular concern, and K'del's smile broadens for the acknowledgement of it, his head dipped to the blue to confirm. The bag is accepted with obvious pleasure, its contents sniffed out. And, "So am I. Going to be headed back to the Weyr soon, so long as the healers give me leave... or maybe even if they don't. Thank you, Ulyana. Nothing at Southern tastes quite the same as it does at home." His romantic picnic forgotten, the bronzerider adds, "They didn't let me eat properly for ages. Feels like I've a lot to make up on. How... is everything?" The blue isn't entirely satisfied and he cranes his head over Ulyana to get a good whuffing in at K'del before he does, eventually retreat. "He was worried. He still worries." Her features grow pinched with concern and she has to shake it off with a firm, singular shake - left-right-center. "It is good that you will be able to return soon," she says after a moment. "It does not feel right without you being there." Which might be enough to answer his question, but: "I am not sure. Things seem to be working correctly, but it feels-" and that's an odd word for her, really, given how she sticks on it. She tries again. "It feels like you would be safer surrounded by your riders at the Weyr. At home." K'del is patient with Qhyluth's interest, enduring it without comment; and with a smile. Glancing back at Ulyana, he hesitates over his answer, mouth opening to form words long before he actually does so. "I've had Val as my personal guard," he promises, naming the Snowdrift brownrider. "She's only not here now because I forced her to take the evening off. But-- I will be glad to be home. It's always better to be with your own people." And sadly, his family don't seem to quite be enough. The information is duly noted with an up-down-center nod. Ulyana's features have settled into bland neutrality again, now that the clumsy articulation seems to be done. "Will you retain her as your guard when you return?" A beat. "Do you think whoever did it will try again?" The questions are straightforward and flatly issued. There should be more; there might be more. But, she seems to be controlling that well of grim curiosity for now. There's another stiff nod at the last and she agrees with a dull, "It is. High Reaches is- that is home. It would not be if you did not make it so for me- for us." Qhyluth gurgles and shifts a little on his feet. "But. It would not be home without you." That admission, at the end, plainly means something to K'del, because for long seconds all he can do is look at Ulyana, and smile-- quite without controlling it. "I'm glad," is what he finally murmurs. "Promise, I've no intention of staying away." For the rest, he rolls his shoulders back-- carefully, and with a wince even so-- and admits, "Don't know I like the idea of having a guard. Show of weakness. To be honest, I don't even know that I was the target, so much as... became a convenient target. We'll see." His smile is awkwardly mirrored for a few seconds, until her features settle again into a state of normalcy. There's a flicker of yellow in Qhyluth's eyes at K'del's wince; Ulyana reaches back to press a palm to the blue's foreleg as if to comfort him. "I do not often assume things," she replies- delayed though that response might be. "It might be best to assume that is the case. That you were the intended victim. Having a guard should not make you appear weak. I do not think many will perceive it that way." Her mouth twists. "Even if you might not have been the intended victim, having another set of eyes would be beneficial in case someone decided to take advantage of the situation." "Hate thinking like that," admits K'del, though there's acknowledgement in his half-nod that Ulyana is not wholly wrong. "That I'm a target. That I ought to go through life prepared for it to happen again." He wrinkles his nose. "And, too, that I can't do things without escort. Person likes to-- but we'll see." "The one who did this will get their due." Deadpan. Certain. Perhaps it's more of Qhyluth bleeding out than Ulyana will admit. All the same, the diminutive rider will take a half step back while the blue starts to move toward the place where he landed not all that long ago. "Until then," she continues flatly, "that is all we can do." See, that is. Wait, watch, and be wary. "He is satisfied that you are well," she adds after a beat. "I am, as well. I hope you enjoy those," a lift of the chin to indicate the treat-stuffed bag. "Is there anything..." but she's not entirely sure how to finish the question and it's forced into trailing off while she struggles - for once - with the words. K'del's blue eyes consider the dragon, and then his rider; his nod is long and slow. "Mm," he agrees. "All we can. I-- thank you, Ulyana. For the pastries. And the visit. Good to know that I'm... missed. Good to have the company, too." His lips press together for a moment and then he adds, "Stay safe. Keep your eyes open. That's all anyone can do; but I'll appreciate it, all the same. I'll be home soon." "Of course." Ulyana nods. "We will. Thank you, sir." A thin smile finally does sit with relative comfort on her features. "We will be watching for you. Be well." Another salute follows, crisply executed as they always are. And, with that, she turns to depart, without a look back or a further farewell. She'll leave that to the blue, who issues another gurgling sound at the Weyrleader. His worry will pass. Eventually. |
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