Logs:Questions, But No Answers
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 13 June, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Evali |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Devaki and Evali are cute. And they talk about the future. |
| Where: Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 13, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: V'teri/Mentions, Hypatia/Mentions |
  |
| It's late afternoon and, over in their little corner of the barracks, Devaki's seated on the edge of one of the bunks. His shoulders are hunched, pallid features flushed as he lets out a wracking cough that is disturbing enough to earn some sideways, wary looks from some of the other occupants. Familiar, to Evali at least, would be the rough-hewn walking stick he has resting across his knees, clearly belonging to their grandfather, Viremi. Evali makes her way over to her brother carrying a mug of tea. So far she's seemed mostly healthy; all she's done over the past few days is cry, with Emmeline occasionally helping her keep her hair from becoming an utter mess. But no coughing. "The stick," she whispers as she approaches, "is not yours." Unspoken: Or is it now? "No, it's not." Devaki's gaze rises, and there's an odd intensity in his gaze: not upset, so much as purposeful. He reaches out as if to clasp his sister's forearm in brief reassurance. "I'm just borrowing it. Grandfather says he won't be needing it for a while -- he's bedridden. He might not ever--" he takes a slow breath. Instead of continuing, he pats the space beside him. "Sit here," he beckons, "Tell me about your day." Not wanting Devaki to finish talking on that particular sentiment, Evali sits. She holds out the mug. "This is, though. Yours." Looking up at the ceiling, Evali inhales, exhales, and then says, "I haven't -- done much, really. I tried a new kind of soup, and. Worked on my reading." Devaki accepts the mug without complaint, without any roll of his eyes, which is a good indicator of how poorly he's probably feeling, given he'd normally make some sort of remark about being waited on. He takes a sip of the tea, nods his head appreciatively, then with other hand, brushes fingers over Evali's hair. "It won't be much longer," he says, in a low, reassuring voice. "I spoke to that rider that came in the other day, Van? I think he's -- he'll help us. You'll have your own place, soon. Space to grow herbs. Maybe meet a strong, Blooded man," the last is quite clearly a familiar brotherly tease, though he sobers quickly to add the last: "I promise." Evali leans into the touch, pleased at least that he's taking to her ministrations. "The -- bronze -- rider? I've heard of him. I hope I can. The healer, Hypatia, she was kind to me but also said that here I'm not a healer and neither are you." Evali seems worried by this. "So what will we do? And I will. Marry." She's confident in that. Devaki takes another sip of the tea, then rests it on one leg, his other arm looping in a loose hug around Evali's shoulders. "We're not, but we're healer trained. We'd have to start from the bottom, but some things we already know. I am sure we can negotiate -- something." He does, however, look inordinately pleased by Evali's latter words. "Good," he breathes, "Good. But," a smile creeps up, "We'd have to fatten you up first." Unable to help herself, Evali laughs. But it is an Evali laugh, and not the laugh of another: it's soft, quiet, whistly more than loud and booming. Even her laugh whispers. "I think you are right," she agrees, smile actually there for the first time in quite a while. She's leaning against Devaki in a way that makes it seem as if she'd fall if he weren't there -- which is true, both physically and mentally. "I don't keep the food down very well. But I am still healthy. Everyone is getting sick." "You're lucky," Devaki says, fervently. "It was -- I had such odd, vivid dreams. But they felt real." He shakes himself, briefly, and this stirs another round of coughing, in which he barely manages to avoid spilling the tea. "You probably should," he realizes, shifting his arm away from her, "Stay away from me, and grandfather. So we don't give you whatever we have." But he seems reluctant, anyway. "I'd rather not," Evali says softly, but she does back away a little. Just a little. Not enough to make a difference in real communicability. "You are probably no longer contagious, anyway. And I -- what were they about? The dreams." There's a little twitch of lips from Devaki, and he wraps both hands around his mug as he takes another sip of the tea. "Xoami was there. I was back on the island. And... we were back in the caves." He frowns in thought. "Do you remember that boy that got killed in that cave in? I can't remember his name," he says, frustrated. Evali bites her lip. She's thinking. And then she's staring into Devaki's tea -- which means she's thinking even more seriously. And then, sadly, voice sounding hollow and empty, she whispers, "No." "I don't either," Devaki seems dismayed at the lack of recall. "I mean, I know it was a long time ago, and it doesn't help us, but I -- it was just what was in my head." Then, drawn by the emptiness of Evali's voice, he loops his arm around her in a hug again, sickness be damned. "Look at me," he pleads, a beat, then, "It'll be okay. I'll /make/ it okay. I think I know how to, even." Whether that's the truth or not, he /sounds/ certain, which is the important thing, right now. "It's -- wrong, though, not to remember --" Evali is not letting those tears flow, though her throat is cracking a little bit, voice hoarse. "But I trust you." She nestles up against him again: her rock. "And you will. Tell me how I can help you." "Listen and learn. Things are coming out, the truth will come out," Devaki says, soberly, his jaw tightening as he glances briefly at Evali's expression. "We must learn how their society works. Mostly," he adds, with a faint, if earnest smile, "I want you to do what makes you happy. Talk to that healer friend of yours, see what's required to join the craft. You'd be a good healer, and it'd make grandfather... and father... proud." Evali yawns -- she may seem healthy, but she is /always tired/ -- and stretches a little. Again, pushing hair from her face. Again, nodding. "I'm trying. To learn. And you! You have to be healthy again." "You sound like mother when you say that," Devaki says, oddly reminiscent for a moment, and kind of sad. "Sleep for a bit, Ev. I'll watch over you. I have to think, anyway." He shifts a little so that she has room to stretch out, fingers curling about his mug, settling in as if fully prepared to play the sentinel while his sister sleeps. "I am everyone's mother, in a way -- everyone who has been born since I was," yawn, "fourteen," and Evali is entirely willing to sleep. She is even more willing to sleep on his cot, and rests her head in his lap as she curls up to nap. So what if he wants to move. "You think," she tells him decisively. "Find me an answer." |
Leave A Comment