Logs:Weyrling Names
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| RL Date: 19 July, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, N'dalis, Nasci |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: There's finally a crack in a case. |
| Where: Nursery/Lilah's Sanitized Watercolor Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Eadgyd/Mentions, Dee/Mentions |
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| It isn't uncommon to catch Nasci here when she can be, away from her blue and the other weyrlings to instead sit playing with Natlie. But today, Natlie has wandered away to follow one of the older boys, chattering away happily despite her mother sitting just over there, on the floor with an abandoned toy in her lap. The shorn, dark hair of the weyrling does little to hide what she seems to be doing, though, as her daughter plays happily. She's crying, those dark circles temporarily mingled with red in such an attractive way. No one pays much mind to her, especially given that she's that weyrling; the one who was crying on the sands, as well. Dal's a frequent visitor to the nurseries himself, though his son is now much older-- but not too old for his father's attention, of course. It would toake a lot for the greenrider to ignore someone in such obvious distress, especially someone he knows, and with Jaymin still occupied, it's not as though he's in any rush. "Hey," he syas, as he draws up alongside the weyrling, crouching to bring himself down to her level. "Everything okay?" "No, nothing's ok," is a tad dramatic, but Nasci only slides a look towards N'dalis under the fan of dark lashes, tears caught there. It's the toy in her lap that she gestures towards Natlie, admitting, "I don't think she even cares anymore. That I am not here, that I can't be with her. After everything that I have done for her, sacrificed for her-- I've still lost her. But I thought that we'd starve, that the Weyr and Fort and--." She's lost her breath, hasn't been able to catch it as she cries to continue for a moment. Sliding into a more comfortable position, legs crossed, Dal's mouth opens as if to say something long before Nasci has finished, as he reaches out to try and take the weyrling's hand. "Of course she cares," he says. "Never doubt that for a moment. You'll never lose her. I know it's difficult, for now, but it will get easier, I promise." "No, it won't. It won't get any better, not after what Dee and Eadgyd and the others did for me. Because I was worried, but I was wrong. I was wrong about all of it," is weighed with guilt, though it does not stop Nasci from accepting that offered hand, her fingers sliding through Dal's and tightening as if clinging on to him will somehow help. "I didn't have to stand; I didn't have to leave. They didn't starve. And we didn't have to steal, and now I can't tell the others, not after everything they risked for me--." "Steal?" Dal's second hand reaches to wrap around their cojoined fingers, squeezing in return, despite his obvious surprise at this piece of information. "But..." A pause, and then, more carefully, "You did what you thought was best. We can only ever do that. You did not force anyone to do anything. We are... we're only ever responsible for what we do, and we can't see the future." Dal's comfort only sees the weyrling crying harder, before Nasci twists in to bury her face against the greenrider's shoulder. That closeness between weyrling and rider may earn some looks where those caverns workers didn't care about the crying before, but they still stay away from the pair. "But they did it for me, and now the Weyr and Dee and Taeliyth and--." Another hitched breath, before she ends like many of these over-tired confessions do, with a murmured, "I just want to go home. I want none of this-- Well, no not you," obviously not directed towards the man she cries on but her new, internal voice. "But I wish I were home." That second hand releases, but only so that he can wrap his arm around the crying weyrling's shoulder, drawing her closer against him. He doesn't care what kind of glances they get; he may not even notice. "Then that is their burden to carry, and not yours," is what he tells her, though there is deep, heartfelt empathy in his tone. "It will get easier. I promise you that. Natlie's here, Tiescth's here... you'll be together as a family, properly, before you even know it. Everything is going to be okay." It seems that, at least, Nasci will accept his comfort for what it is rather than fighting against those soothing words and the impact it has on her subconscious. "I hope so," is all she breathes out, even where tears still fall against his shoulder. And she will continue to sit like that, for as long as he lets her, at least until Natlie wanders back with a new toy that she is excited to show both her mother and the greenrider. "I promise," says Dal, who shows no signs of wanting to pull away, not for as long as Nasci wants to sit like that-- certainly until Natlie wanders back. He's all smiles for the little girl, and for Jaymin, who comes to join them. When he takes his leave, eventually, it's with an encouraging smile for Nasci, though there's something distracted in his air as he takes his son to dinner, and then sends him home with Suraieth. He stays on the ground; he sends Suraieth with a message for Eliyaveith, whose usually-tranquil waters are troubled and murky as she reaches for the queen. « Would she have time for him? There are things, knowable and unknowable and confused and confusing. » As always, Eliyaveith holds a special warmth for her niece, a single ember in her ever present fire that makes up family. « She has time for him. Her weyr? » is suggested, rather than any other formal place. Though, some would argue that the vibe of Lilah's weyr is formal enough for any such occasion. Especially with the Weyrwoman sitting at the whitewashed table in that bare room dedicated to receiving visitors and, of course, Eliyaveith's couch which currently houses the large queen. « Sooner and sooner, » appears to suggest her rider's impending arrival, though Suraieth is inclined to shroud her words in mystery, as ever. Her rider bows to the queen as he passes, his expression still troubled as he makes his way past her and in to the weyr itself, hands clasped behind his back as he approaches. "Weyrwoman?" "N'dalis. Eliyaveith says there are-- things, knowable and unknowable?" is how the acting Weyrwoman greets the greenrider, the curve of her brow upwards perhaps betraying a hint of amusement for the passed along information from rider to dragon to dragon to rider. But Lilah gestures to the seat across from her at that table, inviting, "Please, sit. I have alcohol, if you want some. Or I could order tea? Klah?" "Suraieth," explains the greenrider, the abrupt shift in his expression - that smile! - no doubt the result of his green. It doesn't last; within a moment, he's shaking his head, using the gesture to convey refusal not only of her offer of refreshment, but also of a seat. "I do not intend to take much of your time, Weyrwoman, only that--" He's troubled, so visibly and so audibly, the words heavy in his mouth. "I do not know if I ought to say anything, only that I don't think I can not do so." "Take a seat, N'dalis," is a command rather than an invitation this time, where the greenrider refuses. But it's Lilah's dark gaze that rests expectantly on Dal for him to continue, studying him. N'dalis swallows, uncomfortably. But then he does what is commanded of him, if uncomfortably, his hands pressed tightly together in front of him, and his gaze lowered towards the table. "I heard... I do not say this lightly, truly. I have no details. Only that... there were thefts. Thefts for hungry people; to save them. But thefts all the same. And names; weyrling names." Thefts do not surprise Lilah. There have been rumors of thefts for sevens, and they were certainly founded in something. But as N'dalis continues, there is a certain weight in the way the Weyrwoman watches him. Only after he seems to stop does she press for more, asking first sharply, "Which names?" N'dalis bites his lip, discomfort visible not only in the hunch of his shoulders, but also the serious solemnity of his expression. He lets silence hang for one moment; two. Then: "Dee," is an admission. "Eadgyd. Sh- Others. To keep people from starving, allegedly, but I do not know." It's unlikely that Lilah doesn't see the greenrider's discomfort, but she doesn't seem to be overly concerned with handling him carefully. Instead, she will repeat to confirm, "Dahlia?" with a hint of tension. Eadgyd, apparently, she will take at face value. She presses, still, "To keep who from starving? Who else is involved?" "Dahlia," agrees N'dalis, though he, of all people, seems unlikely to press the full name on a person who prefers the short. "I don't know who else," is truthful, to a point, since it's not as though Nasci did the theiving! "It was for a hold. I don't remember the name; the one the weyrling with a little girl came from." Perhaps N'dalis will be surprised that Lilah knows this only after a short consultation with Eliyaveith, who has shifted to watch with worried, whirling eyes, but she identifies her quickly with a simple, "Nasci of Lux's Ledge. I see." A pause, before she presses yet again into the greenrider's discomfort, "Where did you get your information from?" Now, finally, Dal's dark eyes lift from the table. He swallows. "Is it vital that you know?" "I need to know that it's reliable, if we're going to accuse the Weyr's newest goldrider of stealing from us," answers Lilah dryly in turn, staring expectantly at Dal. Again, Dal's lips press together, the discomfort doubled, now, and adding a pallor to otherwise-dark skin. "I promise you," he says, then. "It is reliable. I would say more, but I already feel I have betrayed a confidence. There is unhappiness enough without it being traced back to my source." It is clear that Lilah is not happy with that answer, as her lips press into a thinner, altogether different kind of line. "And if I promise that no one will know what you have said to me?" she questions, at least making that attempt to get further. "I can't," says Dal, rising from his seat. "I apologise, Weyrwoman, but I can't." "You aren't dismissed, greenrider," snaps Lilah as he rises, those dark eyes showing some hint of annoyance for it. And for a moment, she will continue to stare at him, silent, as she waits for-- something. His chin lifts, but he stays where he is: hovering, really, halfway between standing and sitting. He says nothing. The silence persists, as does her expectant stare. But even Lilah must realize that she can't look something out of someone who isn't willing to give it up, so she finally lifts her hand in a gesture of dismissal for Dal. "If you hear any other names, I do expect you to pass them along, wingrider," she tells him, pairing it with the gesture. "Yes, Weyrwoman," says the greenrider, straightening to his full height. He turns, then, and out he goes. On his way past Eliyaveith, he has another awkward bob; she will see, if she's looking, that his expression is no less troubled... and may, indeed, be more so. But he won't linger; Suraieth is there in the bowl again, ready to carry him home. |
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Faryn (10:53, 20 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
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