Logs:Tayte's Tour
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| RL Date: 7 May, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del drops in to give Tayte the promised tour. |
| Where: All over HRW! |
| When: Day 20, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Avey/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Milani/Mentions, Nakasha/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. Played over a loooooong period of time. |
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| Vintner Workroom, High Reaches Weyr This large cavern has been set aside as a workroom for the weyr's vintners, complete with all the equipment necessary to brew, ferment, distill and concoct. Long workbenches line one wall, with the rest of the space set aside for the larger equipment: large vats, grape presses, and so on. There's a storage above and below the benches, as well as a cellar built into the floor below, cool and quiet. It's obvious that Tayte's been making friends among her fellow crafters from the way that there's at least two crafters worth of space on either side of her work station on the long workbenches. It might have something to do with that Journeyman's knot sitting on the table that someone seems overly eager about making sure she has with her even if she refuses to wear it. There's lots of warm and fuzzies in the Vintner's Workroom to go around since she arrived. This particular afternoon finds Tayte much as she can be found on many afternoons, her blonde head bent dutifully to the task at hand. She writes in a sizable notebook, the page she's open to having some fairly complex formulas and abbreviations noted down. Really, none of it seems to make any sense at all. Not even the words. It's gibberish. But she sure seems to be putting a lot of thought into what she writes. It's been enough days, now, that the swelling and bruising around K'del's nose has gone down, and if there's still something of a bump in it-- well, it adds character, doesn't it? He doesn't seem especially bothered about it when he swings into the Vintner Workroom at some point during the afternoon; indeed, he seems quite relaxed in general, with his hands slung loosely into the pockets of his trousers, his step inclined towards a lazy swagger. He doesn't even pause in the doorway-- or, at least, not longer than it takes to get his bearings, and adjust his stride to lead him right up behind Tayte's workspace. He'll even lean over her shoulder, and peer down at the page she's writing. "Craft secrets too important to write down except in code?" he wonders. K'del's sure movements earn him a small jump from Tayte, a movement that gracefully meshes with a lean to one side so blue eyes can blink at the bronzerider so suddenly there, and in her space no less. It might take her a breath longer than it ought to place the face now that the swelling has reduced, but at least she recognizes him this time. Not that you'd know it from her words, "I'm sorry, have we met? You look familiar." Her voice delivers the line convincingly enough but her lips betray the game, curling in amusement. She flips her book closed without a second look at it, single brow arching at the man, measuring, "Having unintelligible research does provide a certain degree of job security, as it happens." "Actually, no," says the bronzerider, who is far less convincing, but so cheerful about it that maybe he earns points for it anyway. "My name's L'dek, and I'm Taiga's other, handsomer Wingsecond, here to squire you around so you don't have to put up with the ugly one... if you're free, of course." His dimples show when he smile, and moreso when he adds, for all that this is more serious, "Suppose that makes sense. Can't have people stealing your work, making you redundant. Wish it worked that way in my profession. Are you free? I have some time..." "L'dek," Tayte rolls the name on her tongue thoughtfully. She makes a show of looking his face over, and then purses her lips to consider. "Well, L'dek, it's a kind offer." She demurs, even as she's stacking the few books and placing pencils into their tall, glass holder. "But the thing is, I like my tour guides ruggedly handsome with a taste of tragedy to them. I'm not sure you, or any other rider, could offer me quite the perfect mix that K'del can. Entertainment for the eyes and mind." She slips out of her seat, hands going to either side of her and wrapping around the edge of the desk as she leans. The game is abandoned in favor of a warm smile, "Yes, well, I can't help that we're from two different worlds and that in yours, your job security comes from your lifemate's ability to sate his lust. You're a far braver man than I, to be sure, to put your fate in someone else's hands." She relates all of this as though it's simple fact. "I'm officially making myself free. Please rescue me before the looks I get here start to come with more than figurative daggers." She offers a hand prettily to the bronzerider, that he might lead her to better places. "I put my fate in Cadejoth's ability to catch queens," corrects K'del, though after a moment he's admitting, "Which he seems less good at, of late. Maybe he was only ever able to catch Iovniath and Ysavaeth... maybe we're doomed." And maybe, just maybe, that's not something he's even remotely concerned about, at this particular moment-- though he has to work to keep a certain wry contemplation from overtaking his expression. No thinking, K'del. Not now. Stop it. (He stops). "Anyway - no daggers. I'll protect you. Won't lose you in the caverns, either, so you probably don't need to stock up on provisions first." He takes her hand, tugging on it in the same way a small child might, eager to get moving. "What do you want to see first?" "Ahh," Tayte's chin lifts and she lets go the soft vowel, accepting the correction with grace, though it might seem that the subtleties of the difference between what she said and what he said are lost on her. Then again, there are some pieces of a dragonrider's life that simply can't be understood by one who does not share a similar bond. "Maybe he's getting old," The vintner suggests with a wholly teasing air. "Or maybe he's tired of dealing with women with the world, or at least the Weyr, on their shoulders. Are you?" Ten turns as Weyrleader, she remembers him clearly relating. The tug of the hand provokes an airy laugh from the blonde, smile brightening - this tug feeling all too similar to those of her toddling daughter. "Well, the most confusing by far is in and around the inner caverns, but if you want to start with something simpler, you could show me around the Craft Complex. I haven't explored much. I hear the view from the Star Stones is something to be seen." There'a a momentary hesitation that is distinctly out of place in her easy-going manner, after which, she adds, softly, "I don't know that I would mind getting lost in the caverns, so long as you promise to help me find the way out." And presumably stay there with her while she's lost. K'del's, "More tired than you can possibly imagine," is probably intended as a joke, but oh-- just for a moment there? He really does look tired. But it's only for a moment, and it doesn't stop him from drawing her onwards, away from the Vintner's workroom and out into the corridors of the complex. It's her last comment that he answers next, his gaze meeting hers from the briefest of serious moments. A beat, and: "Won't let you get lost, promise. You're safe with me. Sounds as though you're-- having a time of it, settling in. Have you been up to the Greenhouse? If you're used to Ista, I can promise you you'll want to spend some time up there, once winter starts." Her easy laugh comes again at his seriousness, though this time it's perhaps a little less easy, and the smile it ends in a little less bright. Perhaps that reassurance wasn't the answer she was hoping for (or perhaps fearing). Regardless, the lessening is subtle and her overall manner is quickly recovered, "I haven't." Tayte answers, keeping a quick enough pace to keep up, not that that's difficult since there aren't many inches between their heights or strides. "What kinds of things are grown there? Does it supply much in the way of fresh food for the kitchens in winter or does that come mostly from the Hold tithes? They dig for spiderclaws and fish at Ista, but most everything comes from the tithes." She explains by way of conversation, comparing her own knowledge to whatever he will offer her. "Are the relations between the Weyr and tithing Holds well enough?" It's just another get-to-know-her-new-home question asked of him, who is likely one of the better resources for this kind of knowledge, lucky her! "I could always abandon you up at the Star Stones," reflects K'del, thoughtfully. It's hard to tell if he's caught her reaction, or missed it entirely. "Or on my ledge. Cadejoth does like to go out flying, and it's so hard to get him back sometimes." Having stumbled upon a concrete destination, he's content to lead the way, still holding her hand even if he's not actually tugging at it anymore-- perhaps he's forgotten that he's holding it. Or maybe it's just more fun that way. There's a spiral staircase to climb and a, "Herbs and things, some fruit. Some flowers. Range of things, really. Doesn't produce much to feed us, no; we rely pretty heavily on those tithes and... uh, things haven't always been great between us and the Holds. Holds aren't much happy with us at the moment, Tillek especially." "Oh? Is your ledge part of the official tour for all newcomers?" Tayte's expression betraying genuine surprise that she covers for with the teasing inquiry. "Must be a chore to sweep up after all that foot-traffic." She adds, feigning thoughtfulness. The Journeywoman doesn't seem to mind the hand-holding, her warm grip light on his own, it would be easy to forget her hand there. "Herbs and fruit." This echo thing must be a habit. "Do you suppose I might be able to talk someone into letting me use some in my research? The fresh kind are always the best. Has the Weyr ever had a vintner who makes fresh flavored liquors and mixes? They're better than the preserved kind. World of difference between the two." It's a lighter topic than the Hold relations, but it doesn't keep her from pursuing that topic as well. "Really? You're from their area, right?" She checks her memory, "What's going on with Tillek? And the rest? What did we-" 'Reachians, since she's one now too! "-do to get their knickers twisted?" "Only accidentally," promises K'del. "Not like when I had the Weyrleader's Weyr, and people could just walk up on their own. Though--" His smile twists. "Mostly they didn't. Most people." Sane people. "You... could try, I suppose? I don't see why not. Not sure we've had a vintner who does that recently, at least, and it'd be nice to see what you could do. Right, I'm from Tillek. Well remembered." It's at that point that they come out of the top of the little circular stairway, the Greenhouse arrayed in front of them. "Lady Edeline's heir was kidnapped a few turns ago. We failed to retrieve him. He died. And then her newest potential heir, a cousin, Impressed at our last clutch. And now we've flown mock threadfall over there, because that was obviously a smart idea, given everything, thanks so much Taikrin." Wow. Bitter, much? There's her sweet laughter again, contagious almost in its vibrance, at his words of assurance about his ledge. "I'd imagine it would be taxing to be so available all the time. Good. Do you know who I might speak with about that? I doubt there are the conditions for growing what's needed to make a fresh Istan Sunrise, but your tongue hasn't lived until it's tasted one, fresh. If you don't mind fruity drinks." It's the first of what will doubtlessly be many drink recommendations if he hangs around with her with any regularity. "I'm an entertaining sight to see behind the bar, of that, I am sure." Thought just what she means by entertaining... "I seem to keep catching Snowasis at the wrong times to get a word in with Anvori. But maybe my luck will be better this seven." This talk of drink trails off as she takes in the greenhouse, a delighted smile reaching her eyes and warming her already friendly face. But then there's serious matters to take her attention. She slips out of his grasp to take some paces ahead to explore the space a bit, taking in the sight of what's growing all around. "Forgive my ignorance, I'm really-- I may have been posted to a Weyr, but sometimes dragon things take some explaining. Why are mock threadfalls bad?" Isn't drilling a good thing? Her confusion is visible, but she's not challenging his obvious opinion on the matter, just not understanding. "There's something to be said for being just another rider," admits K'del, looking off into the distance-- into the cloudy sky visible through the glass of the Greenhouse. As she wanders on, he waits towards the edges, glancing back at her to watch, apparently pleased by her reaction, more or less. "Bones works up here," he ventures. "And... the healers, I think? Don't know. Various people. The Headwoman would be able to tell you, if no-one else. Never paid all that much attention." Beat. "I like fruity drinks. Reckon I could give yours a try." Now, he takes a few steps forward, leaning up against one of the panes of glass. "Nothing wrong with mock drills in theory. But they're messy - paint - unless you plan them properly, and they piss Holders off - or can, anyway. Given Tillek already doesn't like us... it was a stupid decision. Just made things worse. And it's a waste of firestone, especially doing three of them. It's Interval. We need them more than they need us." "Bones?" It's echoed, but she waits until he's said all he has to say before Tayte's tilting her head at the bronzerider, "There has to be a story there. Did someone really name their child 'Bones'?" Stranger things have happened. "I'll admit, a number of colorful names were suggested to me for Yvalia, but nothing quite so-- grim? Would you say it's grim? Or maybe it's just... is he tall and skinny?" Her curiosity has swept her up, certainly, and there's a sort of sparky energy to it as she pursues the story, finally trailing off to give him a moment to answer her. "I'll have to speak with the Headwoman. Or maybe with Journeyman Markarin," The WeyrVintner, "If I feel like not jumping the chain of command." She rolls her eyes for the very idea. "So you only reckon you'd try mine?" This question taunts him as she gazes up at him from behind her lashes, her head tilted mid-assessment of one of the white blooms of a plant. "You don't sound convinced. Clearly, I haven't instilled in you enough confidence in my talents. Or is it just that you don't drink much?" That could be it too, and the teasing fades off as she asks it, once more curious. The information about the drills is surely taken in, but all she does is open her mouth for a little "Ahh." Then, "Yes, I can see how that would get their goats pretty well." K'del's shrug answers that first question: he's got no idea. "Yvalia-- that's your daughter's name? Pretty. Avey and Milani named mine, but they're both decent enough names. Kasey and Nikalas. But they're... you know, made out of our names, so. Kind of like the Weyr customs." Because now is the time for sharing. His grin broadens as he adds: "Oh, I drink plenty. Whisky, mostly, though. Less of the girly-- fruity drinks, but it's not like I avoid them entirely. Bet you'd be good at them; sure you must be. Sure I'd better find out, right? At least you can demonstrate what you're good at. You'll have to take my word for the fact that I think I was a pretty good Weyrleader... guess you could ask other people, maybe. Some other people. A leader is often divisive. Anyway, I'm not that anymore. I'm just... me." Good at... something. Blonde locks, escapees from the messy up-do she sports today, fall in front of Tayte's face as she nods. Yvalia. "Mine's that too. I'm given to understand that my mother was a bluerider named Tatayana, and my father a greenrider named J'tel. I've never met them, but I've at least one half-sister I know about that share part of my father's name." Sharing indeed! She's acquainted with the Weyr tradition. "Kasey and Nikalas sound nice to me. Their mothers had good taste. And good sense. In a bar, you sometimes have to hide a wince when someone introduces themselves with a name mores syllables than you can say in a single breath." As for Yvalia? Well, she's got the "Y", but what else? "I decided to stray from tradition for Vali. Do you get to spend much time with your boys? Even as Wingsecond instead of Weyrleader, I imagine you're fairly busy?" As for the drinks, that earns a grin, "I'll be glad to prove my abilities for you. Can't have your mouth bored through life with little else but whiskey and water. What did you do before you Impressed-- Cadejoth, right? What is he like?" "So we shouldn't have named them Kasadelavey and Milkasadelanii?" K'del's mouth twists, amusement playing about the corners, and yes, in his eyes, too. "My parents are Kemmil and Mira; they managed to make up names for all of us without resorting to combining... which is probably for the best, because I've no idea how you'd make nine names out of that. Hard work. I-- spend as much time as I can with them. More than I used to be able to. It was easier when Milani and I were still together, but--" He shrugs. "We do the best we can. Nothing wrong with a good straight whisky, I'll have you know. Or a beer. Suits me fine." He moves to a crouch, examining one of the plants in front of him with idle interest. "Handyman. Briefly, anyway. Mostly: sulky teenage who wanted to prove himself to be something. I was fifteen; you'll have to excuse me. Cadejoth-- he's not the bronze I anticipated myself with. More like an oversized canine, if you can imagine that. "Well, sure, you should have. If you wanted them to grow up with mystery bruises leaving Harper lessons every day." Tayte responds, throwing the response off casually, as though she were commenting on the weather. "Nine? And all by blood?" The Vintner sounds a little awed. "Your mother must be a force to be reckoned with." She concludes after a moment rolling the very idea of birthing nine children over in her mind. "I think my parents are onto number twelve, now. But then, we're all fosters, and they pick up new ones whenever one of us leaves the nest to apprentice or Impress or handfast. They claim it's their favorite hobby." Amusement plays across her lips, and a certain warmth that wasn't there a moment ago; it's easy to guess she loves her parents, foster or no. And their claim might be an indication of just where Tayte picked up her sense of humor. "Yes, well, I do imagine that it's easier when parents are still liaising, but it's nice that you get to spend time with them." She's turning her back to him then, apparently to examine what's behind her. Surely not because some uncomfortable thought came to cloud her face. "I never said there was anything wrong with whiskey or beer, just that..." Here she casts him a challenging look over her shoulder, "You have to live a little sometimes." She's turning back then to make her way toward him. "Sulky teenager and his dog dragon. What a pairing you must have made in the beginning." Though the question isn't directly asked, there's an invitation in her tone for him to tell her more. K'del snorts, amused, for the idea of his children being beaten up-- as if! Never mind that K'del must have been a pretty weedy child himself, before he grew into his height. So. You know. Poor kids. "My mother is... old and tired, mostly, these days. Not sure she intended that many children, but... guess she's more fertile than I am. She's pretty thrilled with the grandchildren, these days - maybe that's what it's like for your foster-parents?" He doesn't know. "Fine, fine. Nothing wrong with whisky and beer. I'll let you challenge me, promise. You're parenting alone, I take it? Cadejoth and I-- let's just say there were some awkward times. He wasn't much what I expected. You ready to move on?" He doesn't wait to confirm it with her, but instead heads straight for the spiral staircase, continuing, conversationally, as he climbs down it. "Reckon he drove me just about crazy. Took a long time before we really understood each other, maybe not even until we were both settled in to being Weyrleader. It's easier, these days. Much easier." "I hear that grandparenting is the way to go." Tayte's lips turn into a thin smile of deep amusement, "Spoil a child and hand it back to the parent that has to deal with it. Unfortunately, it's a privilege that comes with having had to be a parent at least once-over." She extends a hand out to him now in silent offer for him to lead her on to the next stop on the tour. "There's always a catch. Being a grandparent, it's having been a parent, with frivolous sex its the possibility of an unexpected baby." She must mean Yvalia. "Thankfully, unexpected does not always mean unloved." The tone in which she relays this masks some secret delight, some deep emotion that is not shared with the world at large, but that is hinted at just enough for him to catch a whisper of the deep love and joy Yvalia has brought to her life. "I am parenting alone." She confirms, a nod making it doubly certain. "I imagine there's pros and cons to doing it my way, versus what you seem to have with your sons and their mothers." It's only a guess though. It doesn't sound like she has a firm list of these to draw from. "What did you expect him to be like? What was so difficult to understand about him?" My but she's thorough! But seemingly genuinely interested. "Alas," agrees K'del, of grandparenting, but not in any serious way. "No, unexpected doesn't mean unloved. Kasey was unexpected. Avey... didn't even want him, at first. It's-- I feel bad, because I asked her to think about keeping him, when it was her body and her decision. But I can't regret it, or him. Neither can she, now, though I'm pretty sure he's destined to be her one and only kid, forever." Taking her hand, and squeezing it once, he seems pleased by the emotion she shows, when talking about her daughter; pleased, and also, in some small way, inclined to bond. He feels it too. "Mm, always. Pros and cons to everything. But if it works for you-- that's good. Important." Down the stairs, and back into the Craft Complex, though for now he seems determined to lead her out of there and into the chilly afternoon. "Guess I figured he'd be... bronze-like. Authoritative, responsible, ambitious. I was determined to prove myself, and he just wanted to enjoy himself. He couldn't understand why I didn't react the way he expected me to... and I couldn't understand why he'd expect it. Awkward, all 'round." "It was suggested to me the opposite way. Though not by Yvalia's father." Who apparently shall remain nameless. "One of the Healers there thought I should consider an alternative to raising her myself. I declined, impolitely." There are probably still rumors of that particular scene circulating were one to go a-hunting. "It seems it worked out for the best that you did speak to her about it. I think--" She starts and her brows bend slightly, "I think it's as much a father's right to ask for the life of his child as a mother's. Ultimately, you're right, of course, it's her body, but the child is of them both." Her opinion wasn't requested, but there it is, offered freely. Her fingers slip between his in a comfortable lacing, almost idle in the way that it happens. As he starts to lead toward the bowl she gives a little tug of his hand in the opposite direction, "Do you mind if we swing by my room for a moment? I didn't bring a sweater, and I'm most-recently Istan." That should properly explain the need for one. "It sounds to me like you and Cadejoth seemed to balance each other out? I certainly don't know what it's like to deal with that in one's head all the time, but it can be both frustrating and rewarding with human relationships like that. Was there any particular moment you can remember as being the pivotal moment for understanding each other?" K'del's nose wrinkles at the idea of Tayte having any prejudices forced upon her, but doesn't say as much outright. Instead, he nods his assent towards her change of direction, and lets her head the way instead, for a change. "It would've made me sad," he agrees, "if she'd gotten rid of him. At the time, Milani and I had been trying, and-- I was worried I wouldn't be able to have children at all. The idea of losing him--" It's nearly unthinkable. "We do. And we've gotten to understand each other better, now that we're both grown. Not sure if I remember a specific moment, but-- we got there. Can't imagine it any other way, now. It's like any relationship, absolutely: it takes work. But the thing is, you can't just break up. You have to make it work, or live in-- some reality where it doesn't work, and that just sounds awful, long term." "I imagine it's a very different experience," Tayte says after a few moments of quiet reflection as she leads K'del toward where the Journeyman's rooms can be found, "To want a child first, to plan for it, to try for it, and so on. Maybe someday--" She starts and then sort of shakes her head, perhaps releasing the idea for the moment or forever. "I can't really imagine my life without Yvalia." She laughs a little to hear herself reflecting his words about Cadejoth but applying them to her daughter. "I'd go so far as to say it was a fairly frivolous existence before her. I'm still frivolous sometimes," Look at her chosen profession! "But much more often I have true purpose, and I like that better." She's less smiles in this moment and more quiet resolve and inner-strength that's not oft worn where others can see it. The confidence and swagger is always there, but this is something a little different, a little deeper. "Well, I'm glad that you managed to get through all the growing pains with your sanity intact," She turns as they reach her door, to flash a sassy smirk at him before adding with a quirk of a brow, "More or less." Before he's a chance to reply: "I'll just be a moment. I'd invite you in, but it's not part of the tour today." Then she's vanishing inside to return, as promised only moments later with a heather gray long sweater that is open at the front but wraps around her torso, hugging the blue fabric of her tunic and brown of her pants, and is tied loosely at her middle. "It changes things," agrees K'del, quietly. "Knowing that someone depends on you like that-- looks up to you like that. Makes you want to do -- and be -- better for them." His smile is a warm one, understanding without being overwhelming; he's clearly reflecting on his own experiences, as much as he is listening to hers. "Hey now, I have as much of my sanity as--" She's already gone in, though, and so he waits, idly leaning up against the opposite wall until she makes it back. When she does, he makes no comment about not being invited into her rooms, not even a teasing one, nor about any presumed sanity or lack thereof. Instead: "Now that you're suitably rugged up against the elements, let us away." Taking her hand back in his, he leads them off - out of the complex, and into the bowl. Somewhere along the way, he remarks, "Guess you'll really suffer once the snow starts, huh?" His words of rejoining are met with a laugh. "Yes, let's!" comes her enthusiastic reply. Like his smile had been for the talk of children, her reaction isn't over the top, just warming. Tayte's fingers once more slip into his, though now her hands are covered by supple brown leather, very thin and flexible. "I will. I wouldn't be surprised if by spring I'd have chattered off all of my teeth. But I'll be trying my best to enjoy it. After all, I'm a woman of the 'Reaches now. Right? Or did I miss some complicated initiation procedure in all of that pointless paperwork Markarin had me working through when I arrive. Do you know the vintners have a list of about twelve near-forgotten caverns where they've been storing booze in case of emergency?" She doesn't say it, but the intent is written all over her face: she's going to find all of them. "I'm imagining that they mean some kind of snowstorm so bad the dragons can't fly and the roadways are blocked. I suppose that kind of thing could happen in a place as cold as this in winter." She guesses, looking to the far more experienced K'del. "Vali's never seen snow." This is added as an afterthought. Her lips curl in pleasure at the thought of watching her daughter marvel at the stuff. "Do the children here play in it? Or is it around so often that it's like the Istan 'brats and the ocean? Taken for granted and all that." By his expression, K'del did not know that, and it's information he wouldn't mind having. "No, I think you count, by now. If you've been through that. The children play in it, definitely. Snowball fights, building snowmen, skating on the lake once it freezes over-- it's good fun." Now, his steps carry them towards the caverns, and as he does, he says, "High Reaches doesn't actually get as cold as, say, Fort does. We just have long winters - long, long, long ones. There are times when it'll be a pain in the balls - sorry - to get across the bowl. They put out ropes, to make sure people don't get lost." He's selling it really well, isn't he? "There's always food in the Complex just in case, though it's rare you get completely stuck or anything. Sucks for riders, too, in weather like that." "Skating on the lake-!" The exclamation comes as a sort of excited gasp, and should he glance Tayte's eyes are a show of nostalgic delight. "I haven't been skating in turns. My father used to take me, when it got cold enough." So she's not altogether unfamiliar with winter. "That, and the possibilities for making a good drink better are probably the two best things about winter, really." Best, and her tone suggests possibly also only. On the heels of that share, unlike so many of the things she's casually shared with him, she has a touch of shy color to her cheeks and what might be the starts to a look off apology for the girlish excitement. She's a grown woman now, after all! Surely this excitiabilty is unbecoming and undesirable? Ocean eyes flick to his face briefly, trying to discern if she's made a misstep. It might be that she could gloss over this by quirking brows and lips at once to echo, "Ropes?" curiously. She seems wholly unbothered by his language; bartending is not a career choice for delicate maidens with wholesome sensibilities. "I can imagine in bad weather, it'd be awfully appealing to find a warm bed somewhere that doesn't involve fighting the snow." Didn't they just stop by her room in the Complex? Maybe it's entirely a coincidence. Maybe. "That, or get talented at warming your own." Here, though, there are definite undertones that clue in a reference to activities other than sleeping, the suggestion of it made with wry amusement. Oh no, that's no misstep: K'del seems both amused and delighted by her reaction, and says, "I didn't learn how to skate until after I moved here. Nik's mother taught me, one of my first winters, and now-- it's great fun. Won't deny that I look forward to spring every turn, though. And summer. Ours don't get hot, not like Ista's, but they're lovely all the same." Still grinning, his gait lazily easy, he adds, "Right - ropes between one side of the bowl and the other, so you don't accidentally go wandering off and get lost in the middle of a snowstorm. It's--" he laughs, smirking. "Bedwarmers are highly valued things." Of various kinds, no doubt. "Especially if they mean avoiding the snow for one person or another. Won't deny I've spent my fair share of nights down in the caverns somewhere... 'course, it was easier when I had a ground weyr. But we manage." "Do you still skate?" Tayte queries, the question carrying both curiosity and intent as she goes on to drawl, "A good friend would offer to take the other skating when the weather's ripe for it." It's said with promise; either that he should ask her or she will invite him when the lake when the weather is appropriately frigid. "And maybe even for hot cocoa with Bailey's Bitran cream." There's a drink appropriate for every occasion. "And fresh mint leaves. If I can wrest some away from the greenhouse keepers." Her gaze looks far away for a moment as she runs down the thought briefly before getting distracted by his words. There's a nod to the words about the ropes and she looks fairly bemused by the idea, if perhaps a touch intimidated by circumstances that would necessitate their use. "I'd imagine you manage well. You know, now that you're all prettied back up." She teases with a close-lipped smile. "I can see it now. Come winter, once I'm working in Snowasis," Since she's sure it's only a matter of time, "I'll be sending bedwarmers your way night after cold, stormy, snowy night. What's your fancy, so I send the right ones?" Men, women? What kind? The question's fairly open for him to tell her what he likes, or divert to nothing at all. "I skate," confirms K'del, glancing sidelong towards Tayte, all amusement and cheerful gaiety. "Promise-- once the lake's frozen enough, we'll go. Show you my moves. That sounds great." The hot cocoa, presumably, but he doesn't pause to clarify. Instead, he has to stick his tongue out for her remark on his prettiness, and say, afterwards, "You'll be my best friend forever. Not that I need help finding them, mind you. Pretty girls with brains between their ears-- thankfully they're not so difficult to find around here. When I'm in the mood. There's something very liberating about being of a mind to enjoy myself with them again, no guilt and no regret." That might be more than he intended to say, and probably more than she needs to know-- maybe that's why he's so quick to add: "Did you get much of a view of the Weyr from above, on your way in? It's quite a sight." His promise is all that is needed to settle the matter of skating with a smile. "I have no doubt you could have a pretty girl any time you like. Pretty likes pretty." Tayte's hand slips out of his to reach casually up to pat his cheek. If they weren't still walking, she'd probably have pinched, but as is, the repeated light touch will have to do to return his tongue. "Brains, that's usually where the hang-up is in Ista, but I'm quite the accomplished wingwoman when it suits." Her lips curl; her turn to smirk. "Though, as a good wingwoman, I have to warn you there are those women who'd tell you not to go sticking that tongue out unless you intend to make a better use of it." The tease is blithely made as her hand seeks to slide back into his. "Someday, maybe over an awful lot of drinks, you'll have to tell me how you managed it. Getting to the again point." Without guilt or regret. But she doesn't press him for details now, her tone and words together tell him that that is something of a problem for her. "The clouds were low hanging when we came in, so no. I haven't. Might you and Cadejoth like to give me a proper look?" K'del seems amused by Tayte's cheek-patting, and by most of the rest of what she has to say, too. "Maybe I'm just demonstrating that I have a tongue and know how to use it," he teases in reply, fingers wrapping back around hers. His, "Someday," is a little more serious, and rather more reflective, though there's a half nod there, too. "Wasn't easily. Let's just say-- my last relationship ended a good turn and a half ago. Anyway-- we'd be delighted to take you up. Want to go up now, or shall we stick to exploring the lower caverns? Cadejoth won't object to taking a bit of a flight." "Because you feared I was in some doubt after all the talking you've been doing?" The teasing smile tells him she enjoys the uses he's made of his tongue so far, "Or because you wanted me to be able to talk you up all the more to the pretty, smart girls?" Tayte tries to keep it light, but nevertheless her admission has a blush and a little weight to it, "Well, I still have you beat then. I've not had one since I found out I was pregnant. Yvalia is three." So that makes almost four turns. "But, really, that conversation requires at least four drinks before it starts to get easy to get my tongue around all the words." Her gaze averts, not wanting to see his reaction to that bit of shared knowledge. "Maybe we'll wait for the flight 'til I have my thicker clothes. I've commissioned them, the weavers swear they're coming. They're waiting for some supplies from the Tanners." Must be fur-lined then, or have leather to them. "Maybe if it starts to get too cold before I get them, you and Cadejoth would oblige me with a trip somewhere hot to get the chill out of my bones. So the caverns for now." It seems a good moment to introduce a new topic in lieu of the one that requires drinks. "You mentioned you are one of nine in your family? Are there any you're close with?" K'del's brow knits as she makes her admission, and his hand, holding hers, squeezes gently. He's too polite to press, however, especially without the booze to make that so much simpler; instead, he laughs, promising: "We'll do it at some point in the future, then. Definitely. One of the benefits to having friends with dragons-- you won't be the first High Reachian to dream of escaping the snow for a while, once winter hits. We all do it, those of us who can." He tracks on, then, through the bowl towards the caverns, though he aims for the dragon infirmary entrance rather than the living caverns. "My youngest sister and I were close as kids. She... had a hard time of things, though, and she doesn't talk to the family anymore. I know where she is, and that she's happy and well, but that's the extent of it. I miss her. The rest-- well, we're friendly, but not close. They're mostly a whole bunch older. Got teenage kids, some of them. We visit. My kids enjoy spending time with their cousins." The squeeze is just as softly returned, a sentiment that all at once means her appreciation for his lack of pursuing and for the future events. "I'm imagining that's one of the best benefits of having a friend with a dragon. All the better that I should become your best friend. I'm given to understand that the benefits of being a best friend rather than just a friend include being permitted to make tremendous guilt-inducing expressions when the other one is unavailable to fulfill a desired request." Tayte gives an example of such a face. Her blue eyes get bigger as she looks up at him through her blonde lashes, the freckles across her nose quiver as her lower lip wobbles a touch. It's overdone, to be sure, but a clear indication that a real pouty face from her would be a force to contend with for those lacking a strong resolve. Her footsteps stay quick, partly because he's taller (though not excessively, as she stands tall for the average woman), but because the general briskness of the outdoors prompt a certain eagerness to be done with the crossing. There's an appropriate noise of mild sympathy for the estrangement of the sister he had been close to, though she doesn't press for details, "It's good of them to have family. I mean, in a Weyr, there's certainly a different sort of family to look up to, but I did sometimes wonder if it was different with blood relations. It was always a little different between my foster siblings and I and the way it was between the one foster that was also my half-sister. More intense, somehow. Maybe it's the similarities that blood can breed." She muses, but gives a shrug. "Faranth," says K'del, with an abrupt laugh. "Remind me never to let myself face that without some time to prepare my resolve. You could convince a person to - well, a lot of things, I'm sure." Evidently, he lacks present imagination enough to come up with something suitably interesting. Perhaps it's because he's ducking his head into the dragon infirmary as if to check for something (no one likely to glower at them for taking the shortcut? Good), before heading her on in. At least here they're sheltered from the wind. "Mm. There's something about... being able to see where you come from? What ties you to people, via similar traits and experiences, I guess. Mind you, there's an awful lot to be said for the families you choose, too. Being blood related doesn't necessarily mean you have a lot in common. Guess that's why most of us have both types. Now - this is the dragon infirmary, which I guess won't matter much for you, but through here's the people infirmary, and they'll glower at us for taking the shortcut, but it really is quicker." "Depending on what I want, I'm not sure I can guarantee I'll allow that." For the look. Obviously letting him gather his resolve doesn't weigh in her favor if she's using that look. "Well, I should hope not." Tayte agrees readily about the space they move into, glancing around the large cavern, her eyes taking in the setup. "I'd like to think Cadejoth and Deveriteauxth will stay out of trouble. I don't know that these healers would welcome me bringing their riders stiff drinks as a get well gift." Though, arguably, it might be the most useful kind in a place like this. "They'd probably say something about the rider needing all their wits to care for their dragon. Though, any rider for whom a single regular drink would wipe them clean of wits needs to spend a bit more time in Snowasis lest they be asked to share a glass of wine with some holder or another. Wouldn't do to have a rider falling over themselves at a time like that, hm?" She chatters about things that aren't altogether important, but the reason for that might become clear as she abruptly comments, "I've thought about going to Igen to meet my birth parents. I'm not sure they'd care to know me. I don't know what kind of people they are. Actually, other than the colors they ride, I don't know anything about them." Apparently, she's never wanted to know or surely she could have at least uncovered the names of their lifemates. "I've never been to Igen Weyr." She does bear the looks of some Igen natives, so her history must lie at least on some parent's part in the region. "Faranth protect me," is K'del's teasing response to that first; a low chuckle answers much of the rest of it. His verbal answer is saved for her last, right as he ducks through into the actual Infirmary, which is, thankfully, too busy for them to be spared anything more than a passing glance (even if it is one of semi-disapproval from a mid-teen Apprentice who looks rather full of herself). "No? Reckon I can understand that, to some degree. I mean... if you had plenty of love from your foster-parents, the ones who actually did the hard yards of raising you, is the rest necessary? Guess it depends. For some people, yes. For others... I've a nephew. My sister's son. She left him, let my oldest brother and his wife raise him. He's ten, now, and it just kills me to see him dreaming about his mother, and who his father might be, even though Bren and Evelin've been great parents to him. But for other people, it just doesn't matter. And that's fine." "Oh, sweetie," Tayte uses the term of endearment in a tone that deliberately suggests K'del's prayer is misguided, "Even Faranth can't help you once I've got my eyes on you." To lighten the line, she winks at the bronzerider, but the curve of her smile tells him that she is a woman who is, at least, somewhat aware of the effects she can have on men, when she so chooses; it's a quiet sort of confidence that probably is some of the foundation of her easy-going friendliness. It's all still largely playful, of course. If Tayte notices the apprentice's disapproval, she shows no concern for it and walks with all the air of someone who should be there; much the way she looked quite at home at Taiga's wing table even after K'del informed her of her mistake. She looks thoughtful for the words the bronzerider provides now. "I guess I've been curious for-- well, as long as I can remember, but my parents-" Not now referred to as foster, "-gave me all their love and then some. I was their first foster and arrived when I was too young to remember. I was very happy with them. I guess-- it's sort of the opposite of your nephew in that. I've always felt guilty for wondering, and never wanted to hurt my parents' feelings by going looking." She swallows hard, "That sounds sort of silly when I say it outside my head, I guess." She looks to him. Maybe not? Is she making sense? "How old was your nephew when Bren and Evelin took him in?" Mirth plays heavily about K'del's expression as he smirks at Tayte's wink, though he leaves that particular topic without further comment. Besides, there are slightly more serious topics to move on to, as he steers her deeper into the caverns, pointing out this particular landmark and that. "Guess I can see that. Not silly at all, no. Would be hard for your parents, knowing that however good a job they did, you're still-- interested, I guess, in the people who gave birth to you. But I'm pretty sure it's natural, even so." She's making sense - and the glance he aims at her, now, is encouraging. "He was just a baby. Kash was a Candidate at Fort when she found out she was pregnant, and had to step down from it. After Kasenak was born, my mother bundled her home, and Evelin basically adopted him immediately - Kash just couldn't cope. Bren and Evelin only have daughters, and she'd desperately love a son of her own. It'll hurt her so much, if he leaves, but... he has to do what he has to do, right?" "So," Tayte says after taking in the encouraging look and a moment of visibly deep thinking on the blonde's part, "Is company on a trip like that the kind of thing one might ask of a best friend? I confess, you'll be my first, if I hook you up with enough smart pretty girls to qualify for the position." Her tone is teasing, but the question is serious. "I have lots of friends, of course," As one might guess from her easy manners and ready smiles. "But I've never had a best friend. No one really to discuss deep and important things with, as I gather best friends do. I had someone I thought was a best friend once, back at Ista, but when I got pregnant... well, sometimes unexpected events like that have a way of showing you who your friends are." She squeezes his hand gently, "I imagine that you've had that lesson a few times? Being Weyrleader seems like it might be a hard job to have and make true friends." The story of Bren and Evelin, Kash, and Kasenak... it earns a sad sort of smile, "Sounds like a difficult set of circumstances and situations all around. He does have to do what he needs to do. As I'm sure Evelin did when she started mothering him. Sometimes there are no easy answers. I don't think there's a person in the world who could honestly say that they are completely happy with everything exactly as it is. Wouldn't we all like to change one or two things in our lives?" It's rhetorical, but the next isn't: "What would you change if you could?" "Never? Not even when you were a kid?" K'del evidently finds that idea something not far off horrifying, given the way he shakes his head, and the expression on his face. "If you'd like company on a trip like that, reckon we could oblige. That's what friends are for, right?" Fast friends, evidently. "It's-- rough, when things like that divide you," he adds, answering her question indirectly. "Things beyond your control. Sometimes it's important, though, to make sure you actually know a person." He's silent for a little while after that, except to point out the laundries on their way past. Finally, "Wish I'd held things together better after Iolene was murdered. I mean, shells, there's lots of things that didn't work out the way I'd've hoped, but if I'd done them differently... I'd be different too, wouldn't I? The tiniest change could change everything, you know?" Beat. "What about you?" There's an embarrassed laugh for his obvious surprise. "Well, when I was younger, you could say my parents were my best friends. I used to sneak into the places they worked, sit under the table while my mother dealt cards, help my father carry trays of wine to the family suites... I could tell them anything. But as you grow older, and as-- as things ch-change." Tayte stutters, even more embarrassed, her freckles now dotted across a flush her tan can't hide. "Sorry. I just mean that there are things I can't tell them anymore. That they wouldn't understand." Ocean blue eyes are hard to meet, should he glance. She's looking in a pointedly distracted way down some of the turn-offs they pass. It might be that they just stumbled onto an unexpectedly uncomfortable topic... But are things ever so simple? Her eyes do return to his face with a small, reservedly grateful smile for a trip to Igen, though she leaves the topic of parents (blood and otherwise) wholly alone now. "I agree. My friendship with her had been-- I guess you could call it ambiguous. We were both fairly young and fairly, how would you put it in a Weyr? Experimental? She wasn't ready to grow up and deal with a pregnant woman in her life. Not that there's anything wrong with being experimental as a grown-up." She has to laugh again at that, the blush rosy and not as strong in her cheeks now, but more than her usual healthful coloring. A little nod confirms his logic on change. "She was... You were..." She tries to find the right words to ask about Iolene, and instead ends up lacing her fingers with his in a supportive way. After a few moments, she finds the right ones to ask quietly, "You were more than just her Weyrleader?" She blinks a handful of times as she considers her own question. Wouldn't one expect to be asked after asking? Apparently not Tayte; then again, don't bartenders tend to spend more time listening to others than speaking themselves? "I would never change that I have Vali. But I might change how I got her, or how I handled things. Of course, then I'd probably still be at Ista." There is a certain wistfulness to that, and her tone is droll when it comes next, "But just think what I would be depriving myself of if I'd stayed there. Snow! And a new friend." "No, of course," says K'del, quickly, nodding - and squeezing her hand again. It's fine. It's in good time, then, for her finger-lacings as he confirms her supposition about Iolene: it's written there in his expression, so plain for anyone to see. His mouth opens, but any words of further explanation struggle to actually come out - in the end, he simply shakes his head, and looks wry. It's a difficult thing, even now; that much is obvious. But it's past, and he's doing his best to move on from it. "Exactly so," he concludes, finally, managing to smile for her last comments. "Even the things we handle badly result in other things, and sometimes those are the best things. Though I can totally understand-- well. Anyway. I'm glad you're here, at least." Yay, friends! It would be obvious to anyone, but Tayte is a student of expression, so perhaps she picks up on more of the subtleties that others might miss. She slips her fingers from his as he searches for words that won't come, and instead wraps her arm around his, drawing her body closer and giving a little supportive squeeze there. It is a companionable thing, the only kind of hug that works while walking and that says much more casually than an embrace that it's okay, he needn't say more. Her free hand comes up to suppress a laugh at his words. "Truer words, K'del." She has a warm smile for him and his gladness, but it's brief, and disappearing into the purse of her lips. "What was your name before? Did you ever have nicknames? To always call you 'K'del' seems so formal." This is aired with a tone of mocking grievance. "I don't suppose you'd fit with most of my usual endearments though. You don't look like a sweetie pie or a cream puff or even a muffincake. Darling, maybe. Or dear. But those are so generic. And you're hardly that." She attempts to lighten the mood, drawing back from him a touch and pausing in her step to give him a good hard look as though she's checking the fit of each endearment. It's just enough - sympathy without it being cloying, too much, too difficult - that K'del can give Tayte a grateful smile, and move past those emotions rather more easily than he might otherwise have done. His mouth twitches at her 'endearments', an actual laugh making it as far as his lips before it ties beneath his free hand: a smirk, then. "Kasadel was my name," he tells her. "In another Turn or two, I'll have been 'K'del' for longer than I was ever that, though. People call me 'Kas', mostly." KAZ-uh-del. KAZ. "Guess I'm right glad you don't see me as generic." A fate worse than death, clearly! "Kaz," she tries it on for size, looking at him with a little squint that wrinkles the edges of her eyes. "Hmm. Well, it'll do until something more appropriate comes up." Since nicknames are so often born from the little interactions as a relationship grows. Tayte's smile turns teasing then, reaching up with her free hand to gently touch his healed nose, "Told you, broken noses give you character. I'd have had to call you schnookems or something if I'd met you before it was broken." There's a little laugh as she pulls her hand away. "Where to next?" "I wait in anticipation," K'del teases in return, not flinching back from her fingers. "Shells, that would have been a tragedy. Might've been offended. Let's see--" And then it's off down another corridor, as he points out this place and that, onwards and onwards. |
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