Logs:The End of the World
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| RL Date: 26 April, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, N'muir |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie hunts down her weyrmate. They attempt to discuss the realities of what the future may hold. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Office |
| When: Day 21, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: R'oan/Mentions |
| N'muir appears to have gotten as far as getting himself a wineskin and a cup, and sits sprawled in his chair with attitude, claiming it with a defiant air that is exuded from the haphazard way he clutches his cup to the sprawl of one booted foot out in front of him. He might have left looking meek but the fight followed him, or at least his foul mood has. Hattie doesn't seem to be in any hurry when she finally reaches the Weyrleaders' ledges and clips across one ledge and to the expanse of the next, and rather than stand on manners and make any pretence of knocking or calling ahead to make sure she can step inside the weyr, she simply heads on in and fetches herself up against the nearest clear patch of wall, where she regards N'muir with a steady look and the tilt of her head. A question's there, but it isn't voiced. N'muir lifts his eyes away from the spot on the wall he's been staring at, a guarded expression on his face as he studies her. There is a hint of regret that he aims down at his cup and tries to hide under the pretense of taking a swig of wine. "What." His question is verbal even if it is phrased more as a statement or demand than a question at all. Effort is put into remaining guarded and distant, even if his effort is somewhat fractured around its edges and shows hints of hurt and guilt here and there. Hattie doesn't move from the wall, but she tilts her hips a little, weight balanced more on one leg than the other, and loosely knots her arms at the base of her ribcage as if to convey a lazy sort of patience in her waiting there. "Do you think I kissed him?" she asks quietly, more gentle enquiry than accusation. "Invited him to be there? Do you believe it was a passionate encounter before you found us? Do you think he would seduce me and I would... fall?" "It doesn't matter what I think," N'muir says coolly, forcing his gaze up and over to her. The hand that doesn't hold his cup softly closes into a fist and then opens again. "It doesn't matter what has happened or hasn't happened, whatever the case is." There's a long, pregnant pause where all he does it watch her, his dark eyes unable to keep from demanding answers to questions that haven't been asked. "I don't care." Though the words are said with an edge that says something else entirely. "I meant what I said after Elaruth's flight." "...You know, I think I should find it funny that you were always the one who said you couldn't manage anything permanent," Hattie idly muses, dragging her gaze up over N'muir before returning her focus to some middle point between them. "Ironic, maybe. It's not /funny/, in any amusing sense." She takes a deep breath and looks up again as she asks, "Do you know how unfair that is? If you meant it." If she means to leave it there, she finds herself unable to, and barrels on ahead anyway. "Do you know how often I've thought of that, since?" she murmurs. "That you could one day say that we're done and I need to... what? Find someone else? Just move on?" N'muir's brows make a soft jog towards each other in confusion. "What is funny about it?" Asked with genuine want for the answer. He watches her, and maybe it's something in the way she watches him that makes his throat pulse with the effort of swallowing down the weight of what it summons. "It's not unfair, Hattie. And it has nothing to do with me leaving you. I'm not going to turn around and say I don't love you anymore. I will always love you." He has to pause, swallowing down the emotions that threaten to make themselves more known. He takes the moment to regain that cool composure and to steady his pride. "I'm sixty, Hattie. How many more Turns do you think I can be Weyrleader? I can't... read things all that well anymore. I could get an assistant but how many extra Turns could that really buy me? And nevermind /me/, Bijedth is healthy but he isn't young. You are Weyrwoman of Fort Weyr. You are going to be Weyrwoman here for decades more. Eventually - and probably sooner than later - you will have a different Weyrleader." He shakes his head. "It has nothing to do with me leaving you." He runs his free hand through his hair and growls softly. "I say this now, but I hated to see R'oan's hand on you." What irony she found in anything is forgotten, for Hattie shakes her head to try and deny the truth or the inevitable, and keeps doing so the more that he lays out that path before him, though she manages to keep from voicing her rejection of the facts by biting down on the inside of her lip, her arms lifting to knot more tightly. When none of that gives her as complete command over herself as she wants, she turns, tipping herself to all but face the wall as she listens. When she can summon words, it's to quietly insist, "Then you should not bring it up in the context of thinking me to be interested in another," pedantic while she can't address that truth. Moments pass, and she seems to gain some control of herself, for she utters, "...The minute you don't want it... the knot... you need to tell me. I wouldn't put you through this for my sake." Perhaps it's his growl that calls her, or feelings that won't be swallowed down, when she pushes away from the wall and moves for him, to kiss him soundly should he not deny her. N'muir frowns, though more at himself than at her even if it's directed her way. "I'm /thinking/ of you sleeping with other people," he explains as something of an apology, "and at the same time there are people trying to sleep with you. I'm..." The word is stalled behind unwilling lips, until he rolls his eyes. "/Jealous/." He frowns again, and this time it is an apology she will get: "I'm sorry." He leans forward to put the winecup on the table and opens his arms to pull her into him, returning the kiss with passion. He pulls away briefly to look at her and touch her cheek like wiping off where R'oan's hand had been, gently. "I will tell you. But don't behave like it will be the end of the world if Bijedth doesn't catch Elaruth. It /will/ happen, and you'll survive. Okay?" That reminder may well be for him more than for her. Taking another deep breath, Hattie closes her eyes and suggests, "How about we don't think about it at all until it's a real possibility?" as she tilts her head encouragingly into the touch at her cheek. Because denial always works. Slowly, she drapes her arms over N'muir's shoulders and just stays there for a moment or two, leaning in against him and letting words process, until she can provide a single nod in answer and open her eyes once more to meet his. "Even if... /when/... I'll always be yours," she says softly, as she lifts one hand to sweep it gently through his hair. "...We could have some harper say a lot of fancy words about how we feel," drifts towards more light-hearted. "Or we could just kidnap each other to bed whenever we feel... jealous. No explanations. Meetings with Lord Holders /probably/ the exception..." She'll even lead by example, and steps slowly away, giving a tug to the front of his shirt as she moves in the direction of the bath and bathing room. There aren't any answers to her questions, put off for their future selves to worry about when N'muir aims a warm look her way that begins to grow hotter as he's led willingly away from the subject of their possible near-future. |
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