Logs:Safety
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| RL Date: 8 December, 2014 |
| Who: Nala, Cendon |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, Bitra Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nala and Cendon speak of the Bitran Gather incident |
| Where: Bitra Hold |
| When: Day 24, Month 6, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Storyteller: Rose/ST |
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| Justice seems to work slowly at Bitra. Or the Lord is gathering as much information as he can, for when he requests Nala's presence, it's quite some time after the fact. There's a woman, one of the Lord's youngest sisters, pretending to be busy in the courtyard until she spies a dragon land, and when the first blue that arrives is just the Benden sweeprider, she goes back to her work, but when the second comes, she's a bit more overt in her study and spying a familiar face steps forward with a hand lifted in welcome. Reserved, other than that gesture, Meina uses her other hand to indicate the hold. "Do you need a moment?" Bitra, in summer is hot, and today is no different as the humidity climbs indicative of a thunderstorm on the horizon. While there's no rain yet, there are a marked lack of people outside and far more people within the great hall's walls. Jynth takes a bit of convincing to abandon his landing spot and go to find a perch elsewhere, somewhere that he won't be in the way, yet after dealing with her dragon, Nala is prompt in moving for Meina, and reaches a halt a few feet away from her, her hands twisting before in an unconscious, fretful gesture. The bluerider swallows hard and looks between the hold and Meina, and though she tries for something like a reassuring smile, all it turns out to be is an odd twitch of her lips. "No," she murmurs, giving a shake of her head. "I want... I want to get this over with." Possibly before she melts in her leathers. As undemonstrative Meina is, there's the sympathy melting her features smooth. For those who know the woman, it's an immensely emotional sign. She leads the way, though Nala might need such guidance, and takes a corridor past the great hall up a flight of stairs and then down another set, until they come to an unmarked wooden door. This is not the Lord's study, and leads to a room more often used for secret handshake games with high stakes. "Good luck," whispers the young girl, before knocking on the door and hearing the assent to enter. Inside, there's a plain table with only one man sitting on one side: her cousin in plain clothes, nursing a glass of clear liquid. On the other side, is a glass. When the door opens, Cendon stands, a hand reflexively smoothing down the folds of his hands as he does so. For all the distance not closed, Nala still follows as near as she can once they're inside the hold, furtive glances given here and there when she's not concentrating so hard on her feet - or on Meina's feet - that she can spare the will to look around. She almost bumps into the young girl when they reach that door, but just about saves herself, rocking back on her heels and steadying herself in enough time to hear 'good luck', whether she processes it or not. A moment's hesitation follows, then she makes herself step through the door, yet what words she might have had abandon her then, leaving her to stare dumbly at Cendon, slight frown the only indication that she's aware of her own ineptitude. He recognizes her, or at least facilitates the facial expressions needed to indicate recognition. "Nala," he greets, his cultivated voice neutral with a splash of at-ease warmth. "I...," but he halts, seeing that frown and the dumb stare and suddenly apologetic, "If I had the empathy to think things through, I'd have offered to go to Fort instead. I apologize for having you visit me here." His tenor is pleasant, and oddly formal, as its tonal quality is at odds with his casual affectation. "No," Nala manages to find from somewhere, blurted out like it wants to escape without her knowing. "It is... Here is fine." Half a second later, she adds an uncertain, "Sir," testing it out in the same moment that she looks away from him, cheeks flushing as embarrassment upon embarrassment catch up with her. "You have no need to apologise. It is... what it is." She swallows again and gives a shake of her head. "I am usually more eloquent than this," is half-muttered, as she drags her gaze back to Bitra's Lord. "And I'm more imposing than this," he returns, jocularly, though there's likely some truth to that. Cendon gestures to the seat. "There's water, but if you'd like something else, I can send Meina to fetch something." The Lord stands waiting by his chair. "If you'd prefer to stand, I can oblige that as well." The man skips a beat, as if wanting to say something, and then pushing through whatever reservations he might have to say it, "Would you prefer a harper here as well? I assumed... perhaps wrongly, that you'd prefer not to have strange faces." "I don't mean to be ungrateful," Nala replies more steadily. "And I don't mean for it to seem as if I need anything," she goes on, drawing herself up that little bit straighter. "Water would be... nice." Even that failure in the vocabulary department makes her wince, though then she's shaking her head again, then nodding, first to deny wishing for the presence of a harper, then to acknowledge his assumption as correct. "If this can be done without a harper staring at either of us, then please. I appreciate that." "Oh, Nala," exhales Cendon, the audible breath releasing some inner frustration he's unable to express with his words either, and a hand lifts ineffectually. He turns to a little trolley behind the table and lifts a water pitcher. He pours her a glass and leaves the pitcher on the table and then takes his seat. "You are never ungrateful and I am, privately, immensely disappointed in this situation, not because of you, but because of what you endured." The Lord, this cousin of hers, wraps his hands about his glass and brings it close to him. "Can you tell me anything you might want to about that day?" Not, tell me everything. Not, tell me what happened. Just, tell me anything you want. Nala slowly reaches for the glass, only once she's sure that she won't betray herself with a tremor, and gingerly takes a sip before setting it back down again. "I remember wanting to come here, because I thought it might help out a business at Fort, but that is all. I remember wanting to and not wanting to. And not wanting to is half the reason why I did." She gives a tight, helpless shrug. "Lilah believes it was my brother. I do not want to believe it, but I can. It is... logical. And no matter if it was him, and he did do it, I cannot want him hurt." "If it was, I was of the mind to send him away, and anyone we found involved." Cendon starts. "Bitra cannot afford the complications of a feud with Fort Weyr and I don't get the feeling Fort Weyr wants that kind of animosity in between us." The young man rubs his jaw, a child's motion he's carried into adulthood when he feels trapped. "We don't necessarily need your witness," he adds, his voice quieter now, "But I wanted to see how you felt and what you would like done. What do you believe would be fair for you to feel safe at night and safe to visit us here at your home of the past but not hurt him." "I do not believe he can be held accountable for actions that may well have been taken solely to please our mother and father." Nala looks down at her feet, and it somehow costs her more to say, "He loves me. My siblings, they do care for me. This is not to say that they can never be misguided, or led down the wrong path. I would have done much to please our parents, when I was younger." She does at least have the courage to look up when she says, "I shamed them. I took much from them. It would be understandable, were they to still be angry. However..." A deep breath, then: "I would want /their/ influence away from him, and the others. His working off what he has done would be punishment and a chance to change. They do not deserve to have the right to interfere with anyone." There might be a reason why Cendon doesn't mention her parents, though his lips twitch at her mention of them. And he continues to ignore the subject of her parents, which may be ominous in and of itself. The subject of shame, however? "If dragonriders bring shame, particularly after their heroism during the erratic comet pass, and the countless number of deaths Benden, at least, has done for Bitra, then count me a rebel. I don't find you or your situation shameful," says the Lord of gambling and that seedy underbelly of Pern. "If anything," his mouth quirks into a more familiar youthful look of tease, "You bring respectability to my family line." Reassurances aside, the young man looks at Nala, considering her, and voicing, "I will take your requests into consideration. I hope-," his voice falters, before he pulls it together and gathers vocal strength, "You won't be a stranger to home eventually." Eventually. "...Before I became a dragonrider, I brought shame," Nala murmurs, matter of fact and unforgiving - of both herself and those she now seems to so despise. "Perhaps Impression has made me respectable. They are not solely to blame, but I do not think that neither they, nor I, can forgive each other." She tries again for a smile when Cendon's voice falters, and even makes it some of the way this time. "I appreciate that you have asked," she says gently. "And what you are trying to do. Perhaps there will be a day that I can bring my son back here, and my daughter to visit, if ever they wish to know of /this/ part of themselves." It's a careful thing, as much as it seems to be impulsive, when she moves forward, aiming only to touch her hand to one of his. "...I will trust that I am safe... and I will try not to be a stranger to you." /Home/, well, that might take some time. And then, perhaps considering herself dismissed, she gives a curt, accepting nod, and glances towards the door. |
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