Logs:The Dreaded Question
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| RL Date: 14 April, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Tomic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tomic pops 'the question' to Farideh. (Not that question.) |
| Where: Galleries, high Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Joremy/Mentions, Matthias/Mentions, Yuliye/Mentions |
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Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. It was that one new candidate who was tossing and turning all night - Tomic doesn't even know his name yet - that has the schlepper-nanny up so early. He's already made his stop to chug klah in the caverns; now, he sits on one of the lower benches of the galleries (though not the lowest), his feet propped on the edge of the next bench down, his shoulders leaned away down so he can rest his chest arms on his knees, and his chin on his arms. He's watching the eggs, while beads of sweat form on his brow. One more tired looking candidate makes their way into the galleries, rubbing at her eyes and trying - but failing - to stifle a yawn. It's towards Tomic that Farideh walks, and once she gets near enough, plops down on the seat next to him. "I don't know how I've ever gotten used to these early mornings. Some are worse than others," she mutters, stretching her arms over her head and sweeping the eggs, and the gold with them, with an appreciative look. "Isn't it odd to think that they'll be dragons soon and not just--" Eggs. Tomic's head turns over toward Farideh, without lifting from his arms, so that now he's got a cheek resting on his forearm. It only makes his words a little bit different than they might otherwise be, when he talks. "They're already dragons," is quiet, the product of long contemplation that, now, has some sort of mystical confidence behind it. "Just in shells is all." He blinks at her, and frees up an arm to wipe at some of the sweat at his hairline, pushing it back into his hair. "You sleep okay at least?" "I guess you can see it that way. That they are, already, but it's hard to imagine there are dragons in there when they kind of like chicken eggs." Farideh folds her legs up so she's sitting cross-legged on the seat, and turns her face to study Tomic. "It's always hard to sleep in a room full of twenty-thirty people--" not that she would know, "but I suppose I did. I think I heard Yesia telling off people in her sleep, or maybe it was a dream." A smile curves her mouth as she glances back to the eggs. "How about you?" "There have to be dragons in there," Tomic presses. "If there weren't, then everything would be so different." To him, it's self-explanatory, and so he doesn't elaborate. He does shrug, and the movement sets him rocking lightly, back and forth and back again. "Not really tonight. It's okay, though. I'm not even with the kids today, just cleaning, so. I can be half-asleep for it, you know?" That grin is sideways, for the orientation of his head. Tomic, emoticon. "Yes, yes, there are dragons in there. I know little chicks aren't going to pop out of them, but--" Still, Farideh's staring at the eggs in an unseeing way. "It just seems like they're not. It doesn't feel real-- it feels-- unreal? I can't explain it and you can think me odd," she says, summarily, shifting so her knees are pointing up, and her hands are around the bottom half of her legs. "Do you like kids? Or do you preference the cleaning?" Tomic turns thoughtful again, giving his head a little shake, rubbing his cheek on his arm as he does so. "No, I guess it makes sense. Sort of. Just... if you only think about them as eggs, it's like there's not even a reason to be doing what we're doing, you know? But once you realise they're not just eggs, then there is." He, too, looks back to the sands, though he's seeing those dragons-in-shells. Watching them. The smile is distracted, but there, when she poses her question. "Of course I like kids. I wouldn't be nannying, otherwise. Be with them every day, if I could, but that wouldn't be totally fair for everyone else." "It does feel that way though. It might only be real when we're actually standing on the sands and there's dragons running around--" Farideh waves one hand in a flippant gesture, and sighs. "They say it should be soon." This seems to be some cause of concern, or nerves, from the way she says it the way she chews on the inside of her lip; she's still staring at the eggs, as if talking about them would bring the eggs and their occupants to life. "That's good," is less concerned, more absent-minded, though she marks him with a glance. "I guess," doesn't sound entirely like he's convinced, or understands. But Tomic is willing to humour the laundress. He looks at the eggs a little longer, nodding peripherally for Farideh's absent-minded comment. And then, he gets an idea, and it makes him sit up enough that his head lifts, and look first to her, then all around the galleries, and then back to her. "Can I ask you something?" There's a lifting of Farideh's thin brows to the schlepper-candidate, followed by a canting of her head towards him. "Yes. What's your question?" Tomic leans in a little toward Farideh. "If you're," whispered, "Blooded," back to normal tones, "how come you're here doing laundry? And then a candidate?" Self-conscious, suddenly, he leans back a bit. The dreaded question has Farideh grimacing and sighing. "You remembered that?" She lets her chin rest on one of her knees, her eyes now completely focused on Tomic. "It's complicated and then-- it's not. I didn't want to do what they told me to do, so I came here. By myself," is both quiet, and serious. "And if I want to stay, without causing trouble, then I need to Impress. Does that make more sense than a Blooded girl wanting to fold other people's pants?" Tomic just nods, eyes wide and earnest. Of course he remembered. "Oh. Well," with his mouth slowly pushing for a smile that's got more comforting than amused about it, "I don't know why anyone would want to fold other people's pants, but..." He shrugs. "Do you miss it at all? Get lonely at all, here?" "I don't have many skills. I don't know how to cook, I don't like children, and I've not got a craft. I think I might be best suited to Giorda's assistant, but then, I'm not particularly nice--" At least Farideh's honest? She chews on her lip again, letting her leg wobble back and forth, and her chin with it. "I miss it sometimes. I miss waking up in my own room, in my own bed, and the heat opposed to the cold, and the ocean right there. I miss being able to wear pretty dresses and have my hair fixed," as one hand lifts self-consciously to her short locks, "and going to parties with my friends, and meeting important people. Now, I'm just-- one of many, not memorable. A laundress." Her lips quirk. "It's hard to get lonely in a Weyr full of people, but I-- I miss Igen sometimes. It's different here." Tomic listens, intently, and nods here and again. "You don't miss your family, though?" Another absent wipe to some sweat, this time at his temple. "They're always what I miss most about Benden, my family." He shifts his feet where they're propped, and scooches his bum back a little bit. "Did you want to impress an Igen dragon's baby on purpose, or do you think you'd've asked if it were any dragon's baby? 'Cause maybe you could ask Irianke to send you back, you know, if you still missed it later." "I miss them sometimes," is her only concession to his question about her family. It's a little obvious she's avoiding talking about them. "Are you? From Benden? I don't remember ever asking. It's similar enough to here." Farideh shifts again, letting her legs flop back down, with her hands lifting to cover an exaggerated yawn. "No. I like Niahvth, but-- I would have if it had been the Weyrwoman's dragon, or any other gold. I like High Reaches now. I want to stay here, even if-- even if I miss Igen, sometimes." Her nose wrinkles and then she shakes her head. "I wouldn't want to be sent back. Would you? To Benden Weyr? Given the chance?" "Well, the Weyr was never my home," Tomic says with a shrug. "I don't know. I don't know if this Weyr is now. I don't know if a baby dragon will change that or not. Still having trouble imagining what it'd be like. Do know, though, that with a dragon at least I could go visit my brothers and sisters and everyone anytime I wanted, right?" There's a little laugh, but it's nervous. Those big hands move to clasp each other, and he drops his feet down, so his hands can sit in his lap. "It's confusing. Where to go next. Right now." "You don't think of it that way? Do you feel like you're just visiting for a little while?" Farideh considers Tomic silently after that, and ends up bobbing her head up-and-down. "I know. I do too. To be a rider, not marriageable material, not a laundress, but a rider, of my own merit, with my own skills-- it's kind of exhilarating, to think about." She smiles at him, then. "And you could. You could go anywhere you wanted to go. To the southern continent, to Benden, to the open ocean even. You'd get your own weyr." Thrilling, her voice seems to project. "I feel like..." He shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't need to travel much, I just want a home. I guess I feel like I'm not sure if this is the place I'd want to bring my kids up or not. I didn't think it was, before..." He squints, and shakes his head. "I guess it doesn't matter," comes with a shrug that, when the shoulders fall back down, seems to relax him considerably. His hands don't clasp in the same way. His posture is easier. He laughs a little, again. "Because I know right now that I'm going to be a candidate until they all hatch, so that's enough, I guess. I've got time, otherwise." He guesses. "You think about that?" About having children, when he's still so young, and a schlepper, and now a candidate and possible rider to boot. "Isn't there a lot to do before then? Or, were you thinking of starting a family now?" Farideh is openly frowning at Tomic, with her lips pressed together, as she obviously tries to comprehend. "I try not to think about it, regardless of time. I wouldn't want to be pushed out, on the Weyrwoman's orders or not. I imagine dragons have some allegiance, right? Would they want to leave the only home they've known?" "Don't you?" Tomic's brow furrows, he looks concerned. "I mean, isn't that why you came here?" But the big young man nods. "I've thought about it my whole life, I think. I'm twenty, you know? That's not a bad age. You'll still be young enough to do things with them when they get older, and you could have a few and the mom would be okay..." He nods. "I'd be a really good dad, you know." The same mystic certainty with which he'd addressed the eggs earlier. Tomic's dreaminess is derailed by thinking about little dragons again, though. "Probably not. I don't know? Anyway, it would change everything, a dragon. Even I know that." Farideh makes a face - the kind with lips pulled back and brows lowered, of disbelief. "No. Why would I come here for that? If I wanted a husband and children, I would have stayed back. I could have had all of that by now, and probably a Hold of my own to run. But I don't." She is still staring at Tomic oddly, suspiciously, but relents enough to flick a look at the eggs, again. "It would. I always hope, for the best." "That still means you're thinking about it," says Tomic, with a little bit of self-satisfaction for having come to this conclusion. All by himself. "I don't need the hold or anything. But I want a family. Or, I would, or will, if this doesn't work out." It's a reminder, one he says out loud to try make it sink into him better, even nodding his head for emphasis, if only to himself. "It's best for those baby dragons," decides the nanny, looking out to the sands, tilting his head a little. "And that's important." "It's all good and well for you to talk about. You can marry who you please, and have however many children you want, and they can go on to do the same. For me, it wouldn't work that way. They," the omnipresent they, "would choose my husband. He'd probably be old and smell funny, but have a significant wealth. Then, I'd have to hurry and try to produce an heir for him before he dies, or gets bored with me, or his sister's son pushes us out of the Hold." Farideh, at the end, looks glum. "I don't want any of that, but you, Tomic, you go ahead and have as many bra-- kids as you want." She's trying to be nice, after all. There's real sympathy in the way Tomic presses his lips together, and the gives a little sigh on Farideh's behalf. "Maybe not, though, because you left?" he offers after some consideration. "Maybe, if you wanted, you could find someone here, away from Igen, if you don't get a dragon. So long as he's okay with it, right?" "You're underestimating my mother's willpower. I'm positive she's still looking for a match even though I left. She's probably mad Lord Joremy married Lady Yuliye, and trying to make her life miserable as much as she can. They did," Farideh says sadly, "enter my name for Benden's heir. Matthias. But, he picked that other girl, thank goodness." Bullet dodged! "I don't know. I still feel as though, if I did, anyway, they'd win. Any children I produced would be half Blooded, at least, but if I'm a rider--" There's another smile, this one mischievous. Something at the end of that puzzles Tomic. He sits back on his bench, and brings his elbows to prop on his thighs, and sets his chin in his hands, and looks at the eggs once more. "But what if it doesn't work? What if you don't turn into a rider?" A real, tangible change, as if brought on by a faery godmother, surely. "That is a good question. What if I don't? I might ask Giorda to let me train as one of her assistants, or maybe I'll get on a ship and just--" Farideh's hand flicks out, setting a course into the invisible horizon line. "Sail away." She still looks amused, if mildly so, with a smile that she aims at Tomic. "I'm trying not to think beyond that yet. Hatching first, then I'll see what to do." "Sorry," sounds almost sheepish. "That's a good idea. Just think about the hatching." He nods, in his hands, and looks at those egg mounds some more. "I'm trying to do that." "You can think about what you want. Babies, dragons, dragon babies," is said laughingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think I'm going to grab something to eat. Do you want to come? Or are you going to ponder life's mysteries some more?" But Farideh is already standing up, wiping her hands on her pants, before stretching her arms over her head again. Tomic's movement is catching, even if Tomic only gets to stretching out his arms, making his chest and shoulders look even bigger in the motion, once she's stood and stretched herself. There's a yawn to go with it, slow and lazy. "Nah," said to the offer, after which he smacks his lips once, twice. "I should probably get going for duties. Already ate." He really was up early. "Suit yourself," Farideh says flippantly, but the smile tugging up the corners of her lips says the opposite. She wiggles her fingers at him in farewell, and then follows the same path out that she used to come in. |
Comments
Alida (20:37, 14 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
- whispers in Farideh's ear*: The more things change, the more they stay the same.
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