Logs:People Are Strange
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| RL Date: 25 November, 2009 |
| Who: Kash, T'rev |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: T'rev and Mecaith take Kash flying - a welcome escape from the weyr. |
| When: Day 17, Month 4, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| It's not exactly a rare thing for T'rev to be hanging out in the commons of a late afternoon. There's any number of people for him to visit after all, his sister, his fosterling, the weavers, one in particular, and often /purely/ by happenstance of course, one very cute and highly affectionate baker. RIght now though, the Weyrleader is playing a hand of cards with one of the lower caverns' kids, a boy of about eleven, on the verge of being old enough to apprentice to a craft, showing the lad some of the ins and outs of the game. "Good one, yeah, that's how you bet!" he says in bright-voiced encouragement and pushes the tokens their using for betting material across the table to the kid, who sweeps up, tallies and looks delighted. A moment later, he's called away by one of the crafters to take care of an errand, leaving the Weyrleader to tidy up the cards, the kid's chair left swung out from the table and empty. It's getting harder and harder to miss Nakasha's entrances into rooms, between her height and the thirty-odd weeks of her pregnancy, though it seems to be her intention to actually dodge notice wherever possible. It's the raised hand of someone across the room that sends her in the opposite direction - T'rev's direction - and her distraction in doing this that results in her foot tangling itself around that abandoned chair at his table. She doesn't fall, but she does stumble, flailing out with her hands to grab hold of the chair and attempt to right herself again. Beneath her breath, the swearing is... colourful. Eyes lift at the stumble into the chair and T'rev puts the cards down rapidly, hastens to his feet to offer a steadying hand to her elbow. "Whoa there," he exclaims in concerned, but friendly tone. "Promise, won't tell your brother on you 'bout them words," he drawls out with a grin, gestures to the offending chair. "Take a break? Teach that chair to trip you up by sittin' good on it?" Stubbornness has Nakasha pushing her elbow out of T'rev's offered hand, though the glance that she aims in his direction a moment later, once she really does have her awkwardly centered body back under control, is more friendly, and perhaps, even faintly apologetic. "Appreciate it," she tells him, as she slides her hands along the back of the chair, and then, apparently having made a decision, draws herself around to the front of the chair to sit in it. "My weight's bound to be a punishment of any chair; good thinking. I--" Beat. "Sorry. Hi." "No problem," T'rev says, laid back, smile still wide and warm as he settles back in his own seat. "And hi back atcha," he continues with a little nod. "S'good to see you, actually. Been a little bit since we've had the chance to chat. How's things? Or should I not be askin', given' that string of cussin'?" T'rev asks with a wink across the way. Nakasha appears to use the excuse of organising herself comfortably in her seat for keeping her silence for just slightly longer than is probably polite; her expression gives her away, though, hesitance writ clearly across it. Finally, with a low sigh, "Guess it has been a while. Been--" She manages a smile. "Busy. I'm fine. As I can be, anyway, given givens." She tilts her head up to look at him for a minute, then adds, explaining, "Had a healer visit this afternoon. Getting kind of tired of the fussing." "Yeah, can't be much fun gettin' poked at all the time," T'rev says with sympathy. "You still able to fly long?" he asks next, stacking the cards neatly and wrapping them up in their pouch along with the tokens which he tucks away into his jacket pocket. The aforementioned garment dangles from the back of his chair, the Weyrleader tugging it around enough to get to the pocket, though he looks up and across at Nakasha curiously. "Barely spent any time with a healer in my entire /life/ until now," agrees Nakasha, with a smile more like her usual grin, aside from the ruefulness of it. "Can fly for a little longer, but no more Between, apparently." The answer to this comes after a hesitating pause, her expression suggesting that this is both welcome and unwelcome news. She spreads her hands upon the table, reaching forward to do so, stretching. "Two and a half months to go, or thereabouts." And counting. /Definitely/ counting. "Want to get outta here and away from any pryin' healers?" T'rev suggests next, grin going a little lopsided. "It's actually a rest day for me, took care of a bunch of personal stuff earlier, got the rest of the afternoon pretty much wide open," he notes further. "And I hear you. Can't rightly know what it feels like, but I can take a guess that it just ain't that comfortable." He straightens and actually reaches across the table, 'counts' each of her fingertips with one of his own, easy charm caught in that grin of his. Nakasha's eyes light; "I would," she says, instantly, positively beaming. "It's my restday, too... else I'd probably be outside. Been doing lots in the garden, of late." Talking about that seems to distract her from talking about her pregnancy, though she gets there eventually, adding, "Right. Not at /all." His counting of her fingerstips makes her laugh; she wiggles them in return, as she adds, "Your sister-- she must be close, now?" "Good thing the weather's gotten nicer, huh? Must feel good to get out, get your hands down in the dirt," T'rev says with another bright smile and joins her in laughing, fingers aiming to cover her wiggling ones gently, not enough pressure applied to really hold them in place. "Yeah, Vani is. I keep expectin' to hear any day now that I've got a new niece or nephew. D'you need to get a jacket or anything? If we fly long we can aim for the coast, but it'd be a pretty long flight. If you're still okay for Between, we could head to Ista ... Nerat ... somewhere in the South where it's warm." Nakasha's fingers, trapped as they are, eventually succumb and fall flat: alas, dead. "I like it," she agrees, of the weather, and the dirt. "Even if it's getting more and more awkward, to, you know, /crouch/. Better than being stuck indoors, regardless." Expression wistful, she adds, "Warm would be my pick, but... no, can't. Got to be somewhere we can fly to. I don't mind, though: /anywhere/ would be good. Just... out. You know?" And then, with a bob of her head, "Should grab a jacket, yes. Meet you in the bowl?" "South of the Weyr at least and down out of the mountains," T'rev agrees readily and gives her hand a little squeeze. "It'll be warmer down towards Gar, even if it's not quite the intense warm of Ista," the Weyrleader says by way of consolation. "And yeah, out. I hear you. See you out there in five!" His hand retreats and he rises, slinging his own jacket on, casts her a lazy salute as he moves away, whistling lightly as fastenings are done up. Her fingers lingering against his under the weight of that squeeze, Nakasha nods her enthusiasm for the idea, positively beaming by now. "In five," she agrees, firmly, drawing herself out of her chair carefully before she turns to head towards the dorms. It takes her the whole of the five minutes to get herself out into the bowl, wearing an oversized man's jacket that at least still manages to do up in front. As she gets into the open, her gaze lifts, considering the sky with determination. Out in the bowl, T'rev waits by Mecaith's side, the bronze already hunkered way down in anticipation of his passenger. The Weyrleader lifts a hand to wave Nakasha's way, beckons her over. "I'll give you a hand up, or does it work better if I go up first and help balance from above?" he asks solictously. "Otherwise, might have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off," he teases, brows a-waggling. Nakasha has to think for a moment, giving Mecaith an appraising glance - after she's cheerfully greeted him with a "Afternoon, Mecaith!" that is. "Could you go up first?" she finally decides, turning her attention back to T'rev. "Throwing me over your shoulder might be effective, but I don't know... reckon your reputation can handle being accused of manhandling a poor girl onto your dragon?" She's teasing, merry. A pleasant whuff is offered by the dragon and T'rev translates: "He says good afternoon to you too and hopes you will enjoy the outing very much as he agrees that is difficult to be pinned down inside when expecting." There's a little pause and a grin. "He's talkin' about helpin' to turn the eggs on the Sands of course." A nod affirms her choice of 'get on the dragon' methods and T'rev climbs up the straps, swings a leg over and then turns, leaning out, with both hands offered down to her. Good thing bronzes are big - should be plenty of room. He laughs at the merry teasing, winks at her. "It might suffer some, it might. But some things are worth sufferin' for." "That a direct translation, then?" laughs Nakasha, apparently utterly amused at the longwindedness of Mecaith's remark. "Guess he would know all about it, too," she adds in agreement, somewhat musingly, as she shifts so as to be able to reach for T'rev's hands and begin hoisting herself up. It's obviously hard work, her last comment not coming until she's made it all the way up - another tease. "I'm flattered," she declares. "Utterly flattered." "Yeah. It is," T'rev says with a laugh and Mecaith lets out another quiet huff but crouches down all the more to make it as easy as possible for Nakasha, even goes so far as to tuck his leg under her feet to give her a boost, while his rider draws her steadily upward. Once she's up, one of his arms shifts to curl around her waist gently in case she overbalances before getting all settled in. "Honest compliment," T'rev continues the merry banter and bends to pull the safeties upward, lets the strap on one out a little to hook her safely in. "Ready? Mec'll keep it nice n' steady unless you want some daredevil flyin'?" Nakasha's only further remark on Mecaith is, "Interesting. Very interesting." Atop the bronze, her glance in T'rev's direction shows appreciation for his helpfulness, as she settles herself in as best she can, shifting a couple of times before optimum positioning is reached. "Thanks," she says, then, and-- "And I'll take it as such. No false flattery from you, oh no." Her dimples show: she's pleased. "/Ready/. And I've no objection to daredevil flying, none at all. Can't hurt, can it?" She doesn't seem to think so. "He's the fine-spoken one with real good manners. Polished," T'rev says fondly about his bronze and his free hand gives bronzen hide a brief caress. "Not at all, for all that reputation, I'm an honest man," the Weyrleader drawls out with humor still rich in his voice as they finish getting situated and his own straps are clipped in carefully. Mecaith's muscles bunch and a powerful push of haunches launches him upward. T'rev reaches around for Nakasha's hand again, fingers aiming for a light squeeze. "No, don't think so, unless you get tossed around too much and he'll be careful enough about that." So saying, Mecaith's broad, dark-lined wings beat strongly to lift them higher and higher and up over the rim of the Bowl, turning to head out slightly to the east and south, gaining speed rapidly. "It's so interesting... all the personality combinations," says Nakasha, though it's more a musing remark to herself than anything too serious. Her grin is response enough to his second remark, and perhaps the light laugh that follows; her fingers return the squeeze of his as they launch, her contented, breathy gasp almost disappearing into the rush of air. "Know he will. Then-- good." Her gaze flicks from one side to the other, eagerly seeking out landmarks as they speed onwards. "So /different/ in spring." "We're a balancing kind of pair," T'rev says mildly about himself and Mecaith, leaning in close so he's more easily heard over the rush of the wind. "He gets me t'slow down, I get him t'speed up a little. We got things in common too, like tellin' stories, but a lot of folks say he's the one with morals and I ain't got none," the Weyrleader answers with a chuckle. His arm remains lightly in place, hand resting half-closed atop her thigh, not being fresh, just likely forgotten for a moment as he leans outward a bit, looks down at the greening of the world, the shift of fields that were brown and desolate in winter to pale green patchwork. "Yeah, the landmarks all change." Nakasha is clearly listening intently, despite the way her gaze drinks in the view around them. "None?" There's scorn in her tone. "Then they're being stupid, surely. I mean... my mother probably wouldn't approve of you, but that doesn't mean you've /no/ morals. There's a difference. Anyway, having no morals'd mean you'd steal and kill and hit people, too, not just..." The rest of it. She doesn't seem to especially notice his hand on her thigh; she seems utterly relaxed with physical contact, these days, in general. "Completely change," she agrees. "It's lovely. The snow was just so... white. Nothing but, you know?" "Heh, yeah, I know. It's a pretty short-sighted way of lookin' at things. Assumin' just because a person thinks one way, then all the rest follows," T'rev says with a quiet chuckle. "Mm, yeah, though there's interesting shapes in the snow too and how shadows fall on it, what does and doesn't show through it. Still, with everything bloomin' out, you get a better feel for what this land is really like, what it grows," he continues thoughtfully. Something in what T'rev says draws Nakasha into silence for a time, though there's an almost invisible nod that, were he to see it, would indicate her agreement. Finally, she adds, "People are-- strange sometimes. Their mental blocks and issues, and whatever. Seeing things in funny ways. So long as people aren't hurting each other, what should it matter?" Eyes seeking out something in the distance, she adds, "Think you've been staring at the snow too long... just can't see that as being interesting, I guess. The green stuff, though, the growing? Absolutely." "Yeah, they are," T'rev agrees quietly somewhere in the vicinity of her ear, though not overly close either. "And I agree, definitely. World would be boring if everyone thought and did the same." He sighs a little, shifts his hand, aiming to give her a little hug before his arm moves away, both hands tucked into his pockets. "Mecaith sees patterns in everything, what he sees - it can be a really eye openin' experience," he confesses. "But I do like green. Comin' from Nerat especially, I get to missin' the jungle." Nakasha leans in to that hug, evidently enjoying the contact, even if she doesn't seek to extend it past what T'rev offers. "It can be interesting," she murmurs, just barely loud enough to hear over the wind. "Being friends with people whose views are so different... there's still points of sameness, I think." Of the patterns, she adds, wrapping her arms around her middle without seeming to think much of it, "Another different way of seeing things, I guess? Interesting." "Everyone's human, yeah," T'rev replies, "but with different experiences and stuff. Can be frustratin' sometimes when those bump heads though," he says slowly. A moment of hesitation follows, then his hands slip free of his pockets again and both of his arms wind around her, hands seeking to settle atop hers, likely in response to that earlier lean. "Comin' up, look over to your right," is all he says though and after a few wingbeats a tall hill with a single tree perched on top, slowly starting to break out in blossom comes into view. The line of the ocean is also visible not too far off, though they've a little ways to go yet. "Yes," agrees Nakasha, with barely more force than a simple breath. His arms around her draw a faint sigh; there doesn't seem to be anything more than simple comfort in her appreciation, though - it must be at least a little lonely, being Nakasha right now, so perhaps that just makes sense. Her gaze strains to see what he's pointing out, and then her breath catches again: "/Oh/. It's /beautiful/. And you'd never see it like this, if you didn't /fly/. People on the ground're missing out." Grinning a little, T'rev keeps his arms right where they are. Simple comfort is easy enough to offer. "Yeah, saw it a couple of weeks back and it's been blossoming out more'n more. In a little bit, it'll probably be all white and pink flowers swayin' in the breeze on top of a green hill." Mecaith arcs slowly around that hill, perhaps conscious of creating a good viewing angle. "Can't say I disagree neither. Love to fly and so does he." In a moment, they tack further eastward, making for the shoreline in earnest now, a faint tang of salt leeching into the air. "There's a little beach along here somewhere ... haven't been back in a while, but should be able to find it." "I'm sorry I probably won't get to see it like that," murmurs Nakasha, all eyes on that tree for a time, particularly as Mecaith arcs like that. "There's just... something about things growing like that. Naturally perfect." Her head tilts back for just one more moment as they sweep on towards the shoreline, but it, too captures her attention in quick order, appreciation easy to see in her grin, the way she points at things as she sees them. "A beach," she repeats, her pleasure audible in her tone. "That would be perfect - absolutely perfect." And so it is: a perfect escape from the weyr, on a perfect spring afternoon. |
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