Logs:We're Home!
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| RL Date: 29 November, 2013 |
| Who: Dilan, H'kon, Lilabet, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Arekoth return home. Family time and general denouement ensues. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 5, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warmer than winter, but still long-sleeve weather. No rain at least. |
| Mentions: Ienavi/Mentions, Rone/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr Something so simple as « We're home! » can, apparently, set off tiny stampedes when aimed squarely at little yellow-haired boys. Arekoth and H'kon were among the last to return, seeing to the final odds and ends of the former camp outside Nabol. That they are happy to be home isn't hard to spot, in the quick ruffle H'kon managed of Dilan's hair, the simple grasp of Lilabet's shoulder, and the look for Madilla that, really, speaks much more than H'kon's words probably would ever manage. He's stayed close to the healer even now, while sketching out a suitable schedule with the boy for the finishing of the belt, and doing his best to give honest, but slightly guarded, answers to his sister's inquiries between breaths. And the mother? He just sticks close to her. Dilan is just about insufferable with pride and glee, still paying for more attention to Arekoth than his rider despite earlier protestations that, really, he's missed H'kon as-much-if-not-more than the brown. He led the way outside and has been all but dancing ever since; and even his sister's initial indifference didn't last much longer than it took her to follow her mother out into the spring air. Madilla, however, might as well radiate joy, though she's not made any effort to interrupt the patter of her children which, thankfully, seems to be dying off. "And you're sure they won't rise up again and decide that Rone's son should be Lord Holder, and all... reconvene and march on the Weyr in retribution?" Lily asks, wide-eyed. "After your lessons," has enough finality to it that that conversation might be nearing 'over'. Arekoth's snort makes his rider's back stiffen, but Lilabet, at least, offers distraction. "I should be quite surprised. It was a wonder there were so many left at the end, for the differing views in the camp. They've also been spread out." After a look from that brown, "And they did not seem over-fond of dragons. The Weyr should be quite safe from invasion." And if shifting his weight brings him near enough to brush at Madilla's sleeve with his fingertips, so be it. Indeed, heartfelt sighs are about all Dilan can manage in reply to that-- but he's in too delighted a mood to let it stop him from dancing, attention now almost wholly upon Arekoth again. "Oh," says Lilabet, who only barely falls short of sounding disappointed. "It's not that - I mean, I know it would be a bad thing, and not fun at all, but I thought things might be more exciting. The raid wasn't exciting, was it?" Sharp-eyed as she is, it rather seems as though she's caught that motion of H'kon's fingertips, and if she has a moment of pre-adolescent nose-wrinkling, it's still quickly followed up by: "You'll want to talk to Mama, of course. I suppose you'll give her more details." Madilla's lip twitches, but her gaze is pretty firmly focused on those fingertips, and yes, she sidles ever so slightly closer. Maybe it was being in command, in a way he felt legitimate, that has H'kon bold enough to keep a grip on that sleeve, even with nose-wrinkling and all. "Exciting, certainly," sounds of caveat. And indeed, "But it was an excitement of terror and panic." He probably learned the 'this is something you're old enough to hear' look he's pinned on Lilabet from his father, even if unconsciously. "Injury and worse were never meant to be the result of dragonriders' actions." And Arekoth has crouched until his belly's on the rocks of the lakeshore. Easy climb now. Well, relatively. Madilla's arm brushes closer to H'kon's fingers, pressing in in a way that is more intimate than it ought to be, on paper. Her daughter straightens, abruptly more serious under the weight of that look; her chin lifts as she looks up at the brownrider, considering his words. "No," she agrees. "Dragonriders are supposed to protect people, not cause harm to them. We-- I mean, you only do it when you absolutely have to, right? When there's no other way. You had to stop him." Madilla's words follow Lilabet's, offering a quietly confirmation: "Like healers, in a way. We all do the best we can." This time, she's looking at H'kon, too. Dilan's too young to find any interest in this conversation, and besides, Arekoth's crouch is an inviting one. "I played with a little baby blue while you were gone," he tells the brown, confidently, as he tries to clamber up one a forelimb. "But he wasn't as fun as you are. And you talked to me. You really did! I heard it!" "We were quite certain a good many more would have come to harm had we not intervened," H'kon answers. It sounds almost practiced, a thing frequently recited. The furrow of his brow might be to test the elasticity of the healing cut he's got up there... or probably, more likely, it's just a Face. "The healers your mother sent at least helped a good many once things were being sorted." That sleeve gets a tug, and the rider holds his own arm a bit nearer. And then ruins everything when, « Good boy, » requires a sharp, "Arekoth." Dragon looks. What. As perceptive as Lilabet can be, it's obvious she misses what her mother does not: the practiced nature of that answer, and what that furrow might mean. Madilla seeks, now, to take H'kon's fingers into her own, a gesture that's interrupted by Arekoth. This time, Dilan's words are loud enough to carry: "He did it again! You did it again! I heard. Lily, did you hear? Did you see?" His sister's chin lifts, quietly. At least excitement hasn't caused Dilan to let go, though with one arm waving triumphantly in the air, it's a close call. "Dilan," says his mother, sharply. Boy, too, looks. What? H'kon's groan sounds more a sigh toward the end. "He's... pleased to be back," by way of explanation. "It was a long time away," is softer, and is most certainly directed to the woman at his side. H'kon remembers those fingers with that, and finishes the reach to interlace them. Back to Lilabet, with what is certainly an easier expression, "I believe there will be stories enough from what did come to pass. There is little the matter in things settling and hoping for stability." "We're all pleased to have you both back," murmurs Madilla, as her fingers lace with his and squeeze, just gently. "It was a very long time." It's likely that Lilabet needs to restrain the urge to roll her eyes - but she manages to do so, and it's probably in large part because of H'kon's later words. "Mama missed you," she says, sounding faintly patient, and perhaps even faintly amused, too. "Anyway, I'm glad. That there will be stories. And that things are going to settle. I overheard Journeyman Kharven saying that maybe Lady Ienavi couldn't be trusted as much as we'd hope, but... she's still the best choice, isn't she? Even if it means Lord Nabol will be a tiny baby?" H'kon squeezes back, and holds that closeness, wordless on that matter. Who knows if Lilabet will manage to control the roll of her eyes a second time. "It seems infrequent enough that those in charge of the Holds are the leaders the Weyr would pick. But then, the Weyr has no business in picking them. I imagine the Conclave may object to any further action on our part, now the threat is seemingly gone." There's something wry in the repetition of, "Even if Lord Nabol is a tiny baby." And over there, Arekoth has started to move himself (and Dilan, clearly) into the shallows of his lake. Good to be back. Thankfully, Lilabet is well distracted by the topic at hand, her brow furrowing in consideration - which may or may not be a habit that she's picked up from H'kon himself. "I can't imagine Vinien being a Lord Holder, and he's turns older than Ienavi's baby. But I guess it's different. It would be bad, if the Weyr tried to force any kind of action. More, I mean. We've only done what we had to, right? Even if the Weyrleaders do support Lady Ienavi. It's not like they're forcing anyone else to." Madilla, unusually, holds her tongue. Perhaps she's simply content enough simply standing here, holding hands, that words are superfluous. That said, she is still keeping a careful eye on Dilan and his mount - Dilan, who crows with pleasure, holding on tight. "Yes!" he cries. "Into the water! Deeper!" "For one so young, of course, they're like to select a steward. That in itself may prove an interesting process. Certainly," and he gives a sidelong glance to Madilla, "some stories to come out of that also." As Arekoth proceeds, H'kon, too, checks back there. Whether his own sense or his rider's, the brown doesn't get to submersion levels. It isn't that warm. Not yet. "I trust we can count on you to see him safely down when they return?" Definitely to Lilabet, while H'kon's fingers press at her mother's once more. "It'll be... political," supposes Lilabet. "Everyone will want a say. Even worse than wanting a say in who becomes Lord - or Lady - in the first place." Her frown is intense. "I hadn't even thought of that. I think I feel bad for him. He's just a baby." Madilla catches H'kon's glance, her own expression thoughtful, though she also gives him just the faintest hint of a nod. Dilan, thankfully, seems content enough to remain above the water line; really, it's just enough that he gets to ride atop his favouritest brown. "Of course," says Lilabet, promptly. "I can watch them, too." As if Arekoth needed watching, just like her brother does. "Some are simply born to different things. It will just be what he knows." It's not unfeeling, nor is it overly sympathetic - except on his face, when H'kon looks over toward the boy on his brown. Meanwhile, Arekoth's limp is smoothed by the buoyancy, and there is plenty of touring to do yet. "Good," thus accepts Lilabet's offer. "I'm certain they'll listen to you at least. I think Arekoth may have grown tired of taking commands from me, as no doubt did many others." Lilabet, clearly prone to the more romantic view of things in this particular case, gets an expression on her face that suggests she finds it sad, whether or not it will be simply what the boy knows. It could even be wistful. "Well," she decides, "I hope someone very nice marries him one day and makes sure he has lots and lots of fun, then." She draws her shoulders back, visibly pleased by the prospect of having command over the boy and the brown. "I'll make them mind," she promises. "I'm glad you're home. I hope you aren't too used to giving orders, though." Which makes Madilla, squeezing that hand, laugh. "I'll be pleased to rest from it," H'kon assures the girl. He waits until she's well on her way to the shore to turn back to Madilla. He looks her up and down a couple times, fingers laced and arms close as they are, and only once that is done allows, "It is good to be home." Pleased with this answer, Lilabet grins at H'kon and then turns to skip towards the shore-- where it's clear she is going to take this duty of hers very seriously indeed. Madilla's head tilts to the side, watching as H'kon performs his inspection; she seems amused, but there's no missing her continued contentment and quiet joy. "I'm glad," she murmurs, meeting his gaze squarely. "It was a very long time to have you gone. I'm... we're unused to it. But mostly me." The words are relatively scant, but then again, the sentiment is surely clear enough. "How was it, really? Or is it simply a matter of 'glad it's over' and move on?" "It was- there were many desperate men and more lost boys." An assessment that, despite coming from him, still makes H'kon press his lips together, displeased. He doesn't break his gaze, even in all that. "And it was a lengthy process," has some sense of summary to it. Or at least, subject change, followed closely as it is by, "I thought of you often. All of you, of course, but-" his fingers squeeze again at Madilla's, "often." That Madilla listens intently, and with interest, to H'kon's summation of the experience, is plainly obvious - but it's equally obvious that she has no particular interest in prolonging that particular conversation, especially as the subject changes. "Often," she agrees, her fingertips brushing against his, his squeeze returned by hers. She seems to intend that to cover it, really; what more is there to say? |
Comments
Tela (Tela (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 30 Nov 2013 05:54:04 GMT.
< This family reunion after H'kon's perilous times seems very... heartwarming and natural and well-adjusted.
Crazy! *sidles away slowly*
H'kon (H'kon (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 30 Nov 2013 07:05:45 GMT.
<
I have to use the 'smiling H'kon' icon at least once...
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