Logs:Welcome Home, Ead
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| RL Date: 14 January, 2016 |
| Who: Dahlia, Ead, Caidelyth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dahlia welcomes her clutchmate back from Southern Weyr. |
| Where: Dahlia and Taeliyth's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'sran/Mentions, D'vro/Mentions, Ka'ge/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions |
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| To Caidelyth, Taeliyth was always watchful. It's part of the core of who she is, watching the comings, goings and happenings within her Weyr. It almost certainly means that Dahlia, no longer just Dee has been aware of her clutchmates' return to Fort since it occurred, but beyond a warm welcome from Taeliyth to the green when they first arrived and some pleasantries then, there's been no direct contact (though the presence of her, her deep roots and sense of belonging, is always subtly there as is Zaisavyth's more powerful claim of this place). Today, however, the queen looks to the green, « Caidelyth, » is pleasant, « Dahlia asks if Ead would please join her for lunch in her weyr. » There's a brief pause as she confers with the rider in question before she adds, « It's the right most on the Weyrleaders' Complex, » Dahlia's moved, apparently, since the days of getting their first weyrs. To Taeliyth, Caidelyth's good manners would never allow any of her clutchmates to be surprised by her return, so Taeliyth is likely one among several who felt the shimmering melody of her presence upon their arrival. But with Ead busying herself with settling in and adjusting to a new-old life, there have been other priorities to take the helm. There's a soft, melodic chime as the green replies, « She would be, » pause, « delighted. » The last note of that word rises almost in question, but the green is quick to follow, « We will be there momentarily. » Taeliyth's slender wheaten body is settled comfortably on her portion of the Weyrleaders' Complex, enjoying the cool-but-not-cold autumn afternoon and the brisk winds that come with it. She tilts her head in physical greeting to her smaller sister when she arrives, a subtle humor felt for the word choice 'delighted,' but little else by way of answer. She does ask, however, « You're settling in alright? » with genuine interest. Dahlia waits just with the weyr, in the first huge, oblong room, most of which is occupied by Taeliyth's pillowed wallow, but which also holds a receiving area for less than intimate company. There's a modest lunch spread for two at the table at the back of the cavern, practically near the food shaft. For all this elegance and space, however, Dahlia is relatively dressed down in functional khakis with many pockets and a green blouse. Her expression betrays none of the nerves she probably feels; goldrider training must have been good for something! Caidelyth glides in for an easy landing, any discomfort from the disfigurement she suffered at birth long gone, and replaced by an effortless grace. « Oh yes, » comes her answer, suffused with warmth and an undeniable joy at being home. « I'm so pleased to be back where we belong. » As the night-brushed green offers greetings to her sister, Ead is busy dismounting, and as she hits the ground she pauses for a moment to survey this new territory. The woman who stands here isn't the same one who left; her hair is longer, though it's currently bound back in a messy knot with a few stands hanging free. Her clothing actually fits, from her red blouse to her grey slacks, right down to the (gasp) flats she wears rathern than the boots of old. She'd appear almost to be a lady, were it not for the slight slouch to her carriage and the way she still seems more comfortable moving with as little feminine sway as she can manage. "Weyrwoman," she greets with a slightly mocking edge as she joins the goldrider. Then, more genuine, "It's good to see you, Dee. Dahlia. Whatever your name is now." « I'm glad, too, » Taeliyth shares with approval. She knows Caidelyth belongs here and the world feels more right for her being here. After that, it's easy to fall into conversation about the current happenings of the dragons of the Weyr, particularly, of course, their clutchmates who Taeliyth seems to keep quite close track of, even with all the things that demand her attention these days. The press of Dahlia's lips into an amused-in-spite-of-herself smile at the edge to that first word is smoothed into something more welcoming as she takes in the sight of the greenrider. "Dahlia, formally - apparently 'weyrwoman Dee' just doesn't have that ring to it, but you knew me when-, so," she flicks fingers in the air to indicate Ead can call her what she likes. "It's good to see you too. I wasn't sure you'd come," not that Taeliyth's offer made it sound like the greenrider had much of a choice, of course. She gestures toward the table where there's lunch in invitation. "I couldn't remember if you drink, what you drink. I sort of thought I'd never see you again, save for the odd meeting at Southern," which accounts for the fact that she doesn't remember of course. In any case, that seems to be a question for Dahlia's movement takes her to the sidebar by the comfortable chairs and low table to pause to pour drinks once she knows what the greenrider prefers; there does seem to be quite the selection. Perks of the job, no doubt. Caidelyth certainly has a whole host of questions regarding the wellbeing of clutchmates and non-clutchmates alike, a topic which can certainly keep the pair busy long enough for their riders to lunch. She needs to know everything. But while the green may be full of excitement and curiosity, her rider is far more muted in her responses. Ead has a knack for betraying nothing, but her lips do curl in a faint smile as Dahlia explains herself. "It'll always be Dee to me, but I'd better get in the habit of Dahlia. Wouldn't want to call you that in front of the wrong people." The slightly self-mocking tone of voice suggests that she's liable to do just that, without proper practice. Slender shoulders lift in a shrug. "I didn't have a reason not to come." It's not the same as wanting to come, but it seems Ead is as recalcitrant as ever. As for the drink, she gives a vague wave of her hand as to indictate that anything is acceptable. "A drink's a drink, so whatever you're going to have is good for me." And with those words, she'll settle herself in at the table, looking it over appreciatively. "You're doing well, looks like," she observes with a smile that hints at private amusement. "Not too disappointed that you'll have to see me more often, are you?" "It's not as though it's a secret." Dee. "Seems like the worst that would happen would be that someone would assume we're friends," that's a teasing sarcasm that might once have been solely Taeliyth's domain but now sounds quite natural coming from Dee, a slight smirk on her lips as she pours. Approaching the table with the glasses, she offers a more genuine smile, "I know that wasn't true before, but I was hoping we might start over, Ead. A lot of things are different now." Settling the drinks and herself, she offers candidly, "Nearly dying has a way of changing a person. Having one's Weyr handed off to whoever's gold gets horny next has a way of changing a person. Losing people I love has a way of changing a person. I don't presume you're any more the same than I am." And speaking of, "How was your time in Southern?" "That would be terrible," Ead agrees with a dry sort of humor, but there's no malice behind it. Friendly is still not strictly her strong point, it seems, although there's a certain amount of Caidelyth's kindness which tempers everything she does. "You were as much my friend as anyone else," she offers with a shrug, like some sort of consolation prize. She's quick to take up her drink when it arrives, suggesting that perhaps she isn't quite as at ease as her impassive expression might suggest. "I heard about all that. I wanted to come back," perhaps deep down, she does care, "but I guess there are rules about transferring people to their deaths." Perhaps the words are in poor taste, but there's no apology in her gaze as she looks at the goldrider over the rim of her glass. "Good thing you didn't die. Fort needs its resident do-gooder." She sets her glass down again after a sip, the question being met with a half-hearted shrug. "It wasn't bad. That's where you're from, isn't it?" "Except for that time when we were briefly more," Dahlia makes show of a little swoon, her hand touching to her chest, no doubt referring to that awkward moment in the stores that one time they were stealing from their Weyr. Still, the gesture in its exaggeration seems warmly playful, a remnant of the old Dee. Her return to sobriety (in expression if not in other ways judging from the long swallow she takes) is with the topic of plague. "As the resident do-gooder," she infuses that with dry humor before her tone becomes earnest, "I'm glad you were spared the experience. Watching people die that way is not a topic for lunch." But no doubt, given the grave look she has, Dahlia saw more than her fair share of ugly deaths. "Yes, born and bred. Your wingleader was clutchmates with my mother, actually. "Think you'll manage with Fortian winters again?" It takes a moment for comprehension to flicker in Ead's gaze, but when it does, she abruptly laughs. "Aye, if only Caidelyth were an oversized brown, that romance might continue." She's not very good at feigning disappointment, but she does make something of an attempt. Then she reaches for her drink again, this time holding on to it protectively when it's not raised to her lips. "Maybe not," she agrees regarding lunch topics, "but I still wanted to be there." And that seems to be about as much as she's willing to say on the topic of why it was so important to her to be present, and why there's a hint of guilt in her eyes as she looks down into her drink. "Was he?" Whatever her opinion of her wingleader, it's not betrayed by her expression. "I missed the winters. I'm looking forward to the cold." "If only," Dahlia agrees without anything but good humor behind it. "As it happens, Taeliyth's quite well pleased with Leczuth and I with A'sran, but there would always be next time," because there will always be a next time, but then next time, Caidelyth still isn't likely to have turned brown. The goldrider doesn't argue with Ead's want, simply acknowledges it with an inclination of her head and a little lift of her glass before she sips again. "He was," and Dahlia leaves the topic of D'vro at that, for now. "I'll remind you you said that about the cold when the snows come," holds humor. "It sounds like your wing's going to be doing some interesting things, or I hope they will, anyway. It's a little difficult to be sitting on the sidelines of proper wings, worrying about things like firewood and cromcoal for winter." Dahlia's job with its mountains of paperwork sounds so riveting! "Have you seen any of our other clutchmates yet?" "I was surprised by that win," Ead admits, and the knowing look she gives Dee suggests that the goldrider should know why. But of course, she's been out of the loop for some time, so perhaps it isn't so surprising after all. "I suppose it's all just chance in the end." The one-shouldered shrug she offers suggests that this has been her personal experience, at least. A glance is cast over her shoulder toward where the dragons rest, her expression contemplative. "She likes the snow, so I'll just have to smile and nod," she answers with a roll of her eyes, but there's an undeniable fondness in that expression. As for her wing, those words are met with a more genuine smile. "Aye, I'm fond of my wing. Always good to be kept busy." There's the spark of ambition in green eyes; a sort of keenness that's rarely seen amidst Ead's blank expressions. Lips curl, and she laughs at Dee's frustration. "Shouldn't have let the shiny one look you in the eyes, then." Sympathy? Nope. The expression sobers significantly at the mention of their other clutchmates. "No." Well, that's awkward, says Dahlia's expression. Between Ead's first and last comment, the goldrider's fork still and she studies her plate with some interest. Rather than immediately offer explanations, or excuses, Dee asks quietly, "How have Caidelyth's flights been for you? Does she take your wants into account?" Awkward, slightly offensive, etc. All words and expressions Ead is familiar with, and with Caidelyth suitably distracted by Taeliyth, there's no gently chastising voice to tell her that she ought to apologize. And thus, the greenrider remains entirely unapologetic. "They've been alright," she answer's after a moment's pause, as she watches Dee for an explanation about the slight shift in conversation. "She hasn't risen much, not like some of the greens. Only twice so far. But I don't have much in the way of wants, so she doesn't have much to contend with." A shrug. "I don't know what'd happen if I did." Dahlia seems to take this answer seriously, her silence a thoughtful one. When hazel eyes rise to settle on Ead's face, she explains, "Taeliyth chose for herself. There was no consideration of my feelings." But that's not really all and she takes a little sip of wine before going on. "Even if she had, Zymadiath wouldn't have been my choice. Someone I loved died with me and what Kael has wanted from me is a lot more complicated than I'm ready to deal with. A'sran is a good match because he's easy, uncomplicated and without strings. I didn't even weep after, with A'sran, I'm sure I would've if it had been Kael." Matters of the heart are complicated. "Did you try to sway her?" Ead questions with genuine curiosity -- having not tried such herself, it's a question that might someday be relevant, if anyone ever breeches that bitterness she bears like a shield. "I should you and Kael were..." Her words trail off, leaving the suggestion of what they might have been hanging in the air. For a moment she looks conflicted, before that blank expression settles into place again. Awkwardly, she mutters, "I'm glad you didn't weep." It's genuine, just not within her comfort zone. "Good that A'sran won, I guess." There's a long silence before, "Not that I can remember. It felt good to be with her. We followed my training, to blood, to fly, not to between, but other than that... we were free." Dahlia taps her fork a little on her plate. "In truth, I should've had her fly less high, blood less. We don't need a strong clutch now, even if she did want to out-do Zaisavyth's fourteen." The goldrider's lips tighten a little and then she shakes her head, but that seems to be for her dragon, not for the next bit. "Kael and I were. For a while. It's... still a little complicated, but better than it was. At least now we can be friends." She looks at Ead, "He could do with more friends, among other things." It's impossible to tell from Dahlia's politic expression just what she might mean by that. "He's spent a lot of time away from the Weyr doing the plague. It was dangerous." No doubt. "The Weyrleader's recruited him into his wing, but--" her tone suggests she's unsure that's enough. There's a wisp of a smile that touches Ead's lips at those words. Caidelyth's flights may not carry the same expectations or pressure, but she certainly understads the sentiment in Dahlia's words. "I know what you mean." There's an exhalation that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and then, "You never know. You could still end up with a small clutch, even if it was a strong flight. We don't have the greatest history with clutches here, after all." Her expression is drawn with uncertainty, but whatever she feels about this revelation, most of it seems to be kept to herself. "Good that you can be friends," she says, the words slightly brittle as they leave her lips. "I don't know that he and I make good friends. I suspect we'd make great enemies, though." There's no denying the bitterness there, even though the words are tinged with a dark sort of humor. "The Weyrleader's wing?" Dark brows arch. "Well done for him. Knowing Kael, he'll find ways to keep himself busy." "Could be. So long as it's not none like Eliyaveith's first," Dahlia says, trying to make it sound light but betraying more than a little touch of worry. "You know, for most people an enemy would be a reason to stay away. For Kael... well, that might just work." There's something wry in her tone, but truth in her expression, a somehow sad truth. "I don't worry so much about him being able to keep busy as being able to keep busy with something that isn't either dangerous or awful. Do you suppose having an enemy would make life more or less fun for you now that you're back?" "I don't think you have to worry about that, from what I've heard. Just cross your fingers for small-to-moderate on the clutch scale." Her tone is about as reassuring as Ead ever manages, but she's at least trying to make Dee feel more secure. "I remember him being pleased when I told him I hated him," she says with a hollow laugh to punctuate the words. "I don't think there's any stopping him from keeping busy with dangerous things, really. Even if you two were..." You know. "He'd probably still be getting into things." She shrugs, hesitation plain in the gesture. "Caidelyth doesn't like the idea of me strangling anyone, so less fun than it could be." "He would be," Dee answers of the enigmatic bronzerider with a frown. "He doesn't... Ead," she starts over, "he's not use to people doing anything other than hating him. He's not used to giving a shit about people in turn. I still think he doesn't, mostly. "I don't really doubt you're right about the dangerous things." That's sober. "And he never told me. He's just about the worst that way, keeping secrets. Always. I'm not even sure they're worth the trouble to keep them always. Anyway, that's part of why we're not..." you know. "Caidelyth obviously is wise beyond her turns," that much can be said with a twist of sardonic amusement. "If you could, somehow manage to so skip the strangling, I'd be grateful. The last thing I want to do is deal with more deaths." Particularly of friends. And then there's the mess of punishment and-- No doubt her list of objections goes on. "I know," Ead answers easily, and there's a sort of sadness to the thin smile that touches her lips. "Caidelyth's not the only one who's good at observing things. It doesn't take a genius to guess how he sees the world." And given that she has a similar perspective on things, it's even easier. "You'd have to keep him busy constantly to keep him away from danger, I think." And even then, her tone seems to suggest there'd be some amount of uncertainty. "Sometimes you need secrets." But that's all she'll say. For Caidelyth, there's a genuine smile and a more cheerful, "Oh, she'd never let me do it. She's very firm on that issue, for some reason." She affects an expression of bewilderment, although she's not much of an actress. Then, more serious, "I can try to be a friendly enemy, maybe. We'll see. I'm fairly certain I owe that much to you." "Well, maybe N'rov will have better luck keeping him busy than I ever did." That's wry, but there's a little lingering hope there. "Sometimes secrets are good. Not everything needs to see the light of day or should," the weyrwoman agrees, "But with nothing shared, there's no trust." Dee shrugs a little as if it might not matter as much as it clearly does. "I'm not sure you owe me anything, Ead, but anything you'd do, I'd be grateful for." With that, she advances to more pleasant topics, "Did you enjoy the bonfires they have on the beaches at Southern?" They are delightful, with plenty of booze and things to roast over the fire. They might even be able to move the conversation pleasantly from there to the best beaches, the best Southern fruits, things so sufficiently neutral that neither of them should have a problem keeping their secrets secret while passing the rest of the meal companionably. |
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