Logs:The Value Of Loss
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 14 January, 2016 |
| Who: Jo, Lys, Tacuseth, Evyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo comes upon a contemplative Lys and the two talk of loss. |
| Where: Sheltered Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mielline/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions |
  |
Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass, due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there, foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the light. No rainfall and mild temperatures are rare enough as autumn grows ever deeper that it counts as 'good weather.' In spite of that, dinnertime makes the lake shore, and particularly this far place, without many to occupy it. There's no sign of Evyth to give way that it's Lys' lone figure sitting on one of the benches, wrapped in a grey wool coat and wearing a slouchy grey-green hat. One leg is tucked up, her arms around it and chin resting there, expression thoughtful as she looks across the relatively placid lake. It's Tacuseth that arrives first, taking a dive into the lake with little fanfare. Moments later, Jo's leisurely stroll takes her up to the sheltered ledge with her bronze fire lizard trailing behind her with little chirps emitting from his mouth. Perhaps expecting the place to be unoccupied, when she finds that it's not, the wingsecond pauses only once before she shrugs into her dark leathers and states a simple, "Hey," as she claims the other bench. Lys's glance goes to Tacuseth first, then to Jo and to her bronze, then back to the water until she speaks. Blue-green gaze falls to the bluerider again then, and she musters a smile, "Hey." It's another few moments later before she asks, "Does he mind company? Evy's on her way," she nods to the blue in the lake. She doesn't ask, of course, if Jo wants company, not even when she picks herself up and meanders over to the bluerider's chosen bench and plops down. "I'm tired," she volunteers as if Jo might care. "He talks when he feels like it," is Jo's answer on her blue as she pulls out a flask. "We've just got back in from sweeps, so, I thought I'd let him indulge a bit 'fore we head up." Taking a drink with one eye on Lys as she moves to her bench, the last gets a slightly wry, "Tired." It's almost a question. Lys squints at the blue's rider. "I'm not sure talking is the same thing as minding company. You can have perfectly good company with no talking whatsoever." Nevermind that Evyth is likely to talk, of course. And does, with a sweet, « Hello! » to Tacuseth, her mind full of mouth-watering scents, muted only by the fact that she's currently well sated, just having flown from the feeding grounds. "Nice of you," the greenrider comments, though there's something wry in that in turn as she glances back out to the blue. "Tired," she confirms to Jo. "They never tell you how exhausting all the nerves leading up to betweening are until you get the hang of it. Or at least, I hope it's just until we get the hang of it. I guess 'not dying' is some kind of automatic reward for enduring it all and not being too tired to do it again the next day. Does it get less exhausting?" Jo is the experienced rider here. "Depends on the dragon," counters Jo, grinning now as she leans back to get more comfortable. She looks over her shoulder towards the lake to watch anything going on. Tacuseth's mind is all desert winds, the grit of sand and shadows that probe the young green's mind for her greeting before returning a neutral, « Hello yourself, lil'un. » Talk of Betweening earns a snicker and a slight shrug from Jo. "They'll get better before you do," is what she answers on betweening, jerking a nod towards her dragon. "It's all in the mind, darlin'. By graduation, ya'll be doin' it without even givin' it any thought. Mark my words." « Evyth, » the green pleasantly corrects. « They say I'm close to full grown, so if I am little, then I'll always be and I'll be Evyth forever either way. » It makes sense, no? She seems to think so. Her descent to the lake is graceful splashing in a polite distance from the blue. "Good," from Lys is a little emphatic. "I might be able to manage a few more months, but not many more months. I'm not sure enough lemon candy in the world will settle my stomach and my nerves if it's like this for too much longer." She sighs a little wistfully. "And then it'll be real wings. Do you get much of a say for Snowdrift when Mielline puts in her weyrling requests?" « Always lil' to me, Evyth, » Tacuseth is at ease in responding as he submerges himself further into the lake. « Tacuseth. » It's given as an afterthought after a moment. "Nothin' but weyrlin'masters scarin' their weyrlins'," Jo remarks on betweening, openly amused now. "Though, 'course ya should be scared. Could die'n all but there's a lot of scary things out there to keep ya focused." The wings topic gives her some pause as she savors and swallows the drink in her flask before speaking. Shaking her head, "All Mielline," she answers. "She might ask me a bit, but the decision's all hers. Why, yer lookin' to check out Snowdrift?" she asks now. « Always adorable would be preferable, » Evyth tells him with humor so light it's clear she doesn't really believe that of herself. But better to be adorable than little, she seems to think. « It's nice to meet you, properly. Lys enjoys speaking with your rider. » "I'm not sure fear has ever really kept people focused," Lys' answer is dry. "If anything, fear seems more distracting, but there are worse ways to die, so I don't know that that's really what scares me. I think I might be afraid that Evy would die that way, since it seems unlikely that she'd die caved in a tunnel somewhere," though that has her frowning as if some unpleasant revelation has hit her. "Do you know Leova or H'kon well? I don't think I ever really understood how their dragons must have been then," when the tunnel collapsed and they all got stuck. She pauses to look Jo over as if assessing her anew, though this time, it's without an eye toward her bed, "Might be. Not sure if I'm Snowdrift material, really, but seems like it might be a well-enough fit for me. I don't really get a lot of say in it, but it's nice to know who's ass I should look to kiss if I did want to try to have a say." There's humor there, but it's true enough that it's good to know who has sway where. « Yer saying that you want to be seen as adorable forever? » Tacuseth puts to the green, his head breaking the surface and facing towards her. On hearing about her rider, there's a tinge of curiosity as he asks, « Why does she? » "Fear focuses me," Jo amends without a break. "Ya can think of it this way, though: if Evyth dies Betweenin', ya'll die, too." Comforting, perhaps. On wings, the smile grows on ass-kissing as she says, "I doubt it even works like that, darlin'," she tells her. "Might work on Taikrin, though. I love Leova, but not H'kon very well. Once ya start shadowin', I'd visit'em all if I were ya." « Why not? » It sounds good to the slightly rotund, pretty paisley accented green. It sounds good now at any rate. She might be nearly full size now, but she's not yet grown. 'Why' is a slightly more complicated question and Evyth glances toward the riders before answering, « She's interesting. Lys likes interesting people. She also thinks she's lovely, and that doesn't hurt. » There's some amusement for that. "Does it?" of fear and, "Interesting," perhaps only proves the point. "If I die betweening, what kind of loss is it really? How much do I really have to offer? Evy? She's good and kind and everything worthwhile in the world." This implies it's not so much what Lys is, though she doesn't elaborate. "I'm sure I will. No reason not to. Play the field and all that before I get tied down somewhere." « Being adorable draws in adorable mates, » is Tacuseth Logic at work. He also seems to have a high opinion of his Jo, since he says behind Evyth's own answer to his question, « 'Course she is. Why else would I choose her? » "The Weyr mourns every loss that happens," Jo says on Lys's value in the scheme of things, her tone easy and light. "I don' have much to offer either," she adds, "other than to myself. I rather would be sad if I died." Something Lys says about playing the field draws low laughter from the wingsecond before she angles a study on her before noting, "I reckon ya took care of yer lil' problem, did'ja? Yer all good?" « That seems silly. If I'm already adorable, what do I need an adorable mate for? » Or a mate at all, for that matter. « I chose Lys because we belong together, » she tells Tacuseth, « but it's nice that she's interesting too. She has good stories. » That seems to delight the green. "Do they?" Lys seems to be into asking the question, though this time it seems a genuine one, her expression dubious. "I can't imagine many mourned H'vier. And how many took pause for each rider's death during the plague?" She shrugs her shoulders a little, "Easy to get numb to loss if you're not careful." Still, "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather live, but I'd be more broken up for taking her with me. I sort of didn't really figure I'd live this long, or that I'd end up with a life so joined to mine." She purses her lips a little, looking out at that life, at that dragon who thinks so well of her. She slides a glance askance to Jo and permits herself a slightly smug smile. "I did. Thanks." Well, Tacuseth doesn't answer, but perhaps the taste of amusement from the blue can be detected from Evyth. « Have you Betweened yet? » he asks her now while Jo's smile falters upon H'vier's name being spoken. Shaking her head, "That man lived a hard life regardless of his rank," she says that soberly, watching Lys. "Just 'cause ya Impress doesn' mean life's smooth sailin'. He's a good example of that. I'm pro'bly not the best to ask on loss, 'cause, I've lost enough in my life. Even before Tacuseth. It's part of life to me. Ya live with it. Why wouldn' ya live this long?" « Yes! » Evyth's single word holds her emphatic enthusiasm. « Over the bowl, again, and again, and then farther, to Ista Weyr. Their sand is black! » Did he know? She'd heard, but only just found out. « Lys says we can go back soon. For fun this time, instead of work. » Not that Evyth minds work. Work is good, it keeps a green busy. "Yeah," is all Lys says of H'vier, but her expression tightens. Rising from the bench she smiles at the bluerider, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "Maybe I'll tell you sometime," why she might not have lived. "But not today." Apparently that's just not in the cards. "I'll pick your brain more about Snowdrift another time," she's now warned. Without a goodbye, the blonde heads off toward the bowl. |
Leave A Comment