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Logs:Making Adjustments

2013-01-30T03:30:34Z

Kinory:

{{ Log
| who = K'del, Kinory
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Playing in the snow and building forts make it easier to talk about difficulties.
| when = Day 3, Month 12, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2013.01.28
| quote = ... if there's something I ''can'' help with?
| weather = Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor.
| categories =
| mentions = Meara, I'kris
| ooc = Takes place before [[Logs:Snowballs_and_Gauntlets_Thrown|Snowballs and Gauntlets Thrown]].
| icons = k'del.jpg, kinory pensive.png
| log = Despite the falling snow - or perhaps because of it, Kinory and Ineuth are apparently spending at least some of their free time today outside, even if the small rider is all but indistinguishable in layer after layer of sweaters, coat, massive scarf and a hat. Nearby, several children have started giggling and pushing snow into what promises to be a lumpy start to a snow fort. As they draw nearer, the weyrling and her brown offer a cheery hello and soon get pulled into the fun, particularly since having a dragon help makes the wall-building go much faster. It seems to do the young pair good, too; Kinory hasn't sounded this light-hearted in some time.

''Some'' of those children must be K'del's, because although he's not present when Kinory arrives, he shows up a few minutes later, proudly bearing a short wooden pole with a handkerchief tied to the top of it: every snow fort needs a flag! Jogging closer, he seems initially surprised by Kinory's presence, but a moment later a smile blossoms onto his pink-cheeked face. "How's this look?" he asks, including all of them, children and weyrling alike, in his question, offering waved dramatically. And then, "Hey there."

Kinory goes crimson when K'del arrives, dark eyes wide. Still, she voices her approval along with that of the redheaded girl next to her and is quick to get to her feet, dusting off her coat as best she can. Her answering, "Hi, " is quiet, and she awkwardly stuffs her gloved hands into her pockets, moving around the other side of the wall to lean self-consciously against Ineuth. She watches the kids stockpiling more snow as the sandy brown helpfully shovels quantities forward with his tail. It's a few minutes before she adds, "How's Cadejoth?"

"Don't stop--" K'del all-but-begs. He's smiling, encouragingly. "You can help me--" A boy of about seven, his features clearly indicating his parentage, declares, "Build a moat! It needs a ''moat'', daddy!" K'del's smile twitches, amused. "You can help me with the moat. Come on." He beckons her back, even as he moves to crouch in front of the snow structure, oblivious to the cold of the snow beneath his knees. His flag is handed off, and he beguns to dig. "Cadejoth's doing better. How-- are you? And Ineuth? Wish we could have--" Helped, presumably, but aside from his rueful smile, he can't seem to finish that sentence.

Kinory can't help it; she giggles a little at the boy's insistence on a moat and nodding, skirts back around the edge of the wall to sink down next to the other rider. "Okay. One moat, coming up, " she assures them both. More softly, to K'del, "Good, I'm - I'm glad." She shivers, which could be forgiven for being up close and personal with the snow. "I'm, " inhale. "I'm going to be okay, " is what she settles on after a weighty silence. "I think. Ineuth's better, since he's already forgotten most of what that felt like and I haven't cared to remind him in detail just yet. That was an awful night." For his rueful smile, she has an embarrassed one of her own. "That's kind of you, but - I don't think there's anything you could have done, at that point."

"I know," he says, admitting openly that no, there really ''was'' nothing he could've done. Even so, he looks apologetic. "Just-- well. Glad you're both doing better. And - maybe I'm not the Weyrleader, anymore, but that doesn't mean... if there's something I ''can'' help with?" His nod seems to be intended to finish the thought properly, since the words aren't really there. A few moments later, however, he breaths out a white-breathed sigh and adds, "It was an awful night. For me - and probably worse for you." One of the boys yells for him again, showing off the flag - now firmly planted in the snow fort - and he grins up at them, smiling approvingly.

"So am I. Glad, that is, " and the weyrling's subsequent glance is a little confused, particularly at his rather open-ended offer of assistance. Settling for shaking her head uncertainly, she focuses instead on deepening her side of the snow fort's moat, ears red. "It's not something I'd care to repeat, " she rejoins after a little bit. "I know that that isn't typically how most go, and it'll be better next time." Someone's definitely working to convince herself of it and not quite succeeding. Yet.

That uncertainty seems to make K'del awkward, too, because he ducks his head away, suddenly focusing very intently upon this moat building: it's super important. "I--" He begins. Then, "Cadejoth's first chase was a gold flight, too. Senior flight. Peirith at Fort. Supposed to be a closed flight. Didn't... turn out as badly as yours, but it was rough. Next time'll definitely be better. If... my experience is anything to go by." He's still not glancing at her, but at least he manages to sound mostly confident of this.

Surprised, Kinory does turn to look over at him briefly as he describes his own first flight experience. "Oh, " is all she can seem to summon up in response, returning her attention to her side of the moat. "Sometimes, I wonder if blueriders might not have it a little easier. They'll never have the stress of the same possibilities." Because baby dragon making is stressful, serious business. On the other side of the wall, Ineuth is clearly pleased to be among such enthusiastic children, eyes a sparkling blue-green. His rider glances up to watch him interact with them for a bit, awkwardness shelved for a wistful little beam. He likes them. They seem to like him! Cute.

K'del's laugh is more genuine, and even warm, this time. "Too right," he agrees. "No baby dragons, and no ''possibility'' of becoming Weyrleader, ever." This is not the right conversation in which to discuss ''that'', though, and thus, though he goes quiet for a few moments in thought, he moves on. Glancing sidelong at Kinory, as he smoothes the curve of the snow around his part of the moat, he says, "He seems happy with them. The kids. Cadejoth, too. Come summer, they all play in the lake together. You... like kids. I guess."

Kinory gives a little shudder at the mention of the possibility of becoming Weyrleader, apparently scared silly by the very notion. "Right, " she echoes in kind, gaze ducking shyly as she happens to catch him mid-glance. "He does, doesn't he? He really likes them, likes the idea of getting to play with them. I like them, too. Very much." There's no guesswork needed; there's nothing behind the sudden warmth that effuses her or her delight but some sort of genuine joy. There's a small sigh, too. "I don't think I'm ready for full-on parenthood, myself, but I do like spending time with other people's children. It's really too bad that 'dragonriding nanny' isn't on the list of post-weyrlinghood jobs."

K'del has a knowing smile for that shudder, an acknowledgement that's obvious in the twist of his mouth. Instead of directly answering her words, he indicates a short red-head boy amidst the group of children. "That's Kasey," he says. And then - a taller boy, strawberry-blond. "And Nikalas. They're seven. Mine. Guess I'm kind of a fair-weather father: their mothers and the nurseries do a lot of the heavy lifting, but I've always done as much as I can. Easier, now." Without that big, heavy knot. "You could assist the Weyrlingmaster, maybe, though that's not quite ''children''. Anyway, it's Interval. If you want to help the nannies, in your off time? Don't see why you can't."

Kinory repeats the names after K'del points out his kids, nodding attentively. Her soft, "I'm sure it was hard to be immediately there for them before, " is compassionate, if tentative; she has little reference for such things, after all, aside from having her own dragon to care for and precious little time for much else over the past nearly nine months. She giggles, faintly. "I'm not sure she'd take me on even if I felt capable of working with her charges. You're right - it isn't the same. Far more challenging. And some of the new riders could be ''older'' than me." Definitely not the same thing. But helping the nannies out in her spare time? That idea elicits a wider smile.

"It was," agrees K'del. "But it was worth it. Always." He grins as he says this, no doubt conscious that he's speaking to someone who probably doesn't need convincing on that subject. Idly, he begins to form a snowball between his hands, focusing on it only in a vague sort of way: he's got eyes for Kinory and their conversation, and eyes, too, for his sons and their friends as they play. "When I became Weyrleader," he grins, "Pretty much everyone was older than me. Candidates, weyrlings, riders. Not something I'd recommend ''now''." But maybe, his tone implies, in a few turns. "Maybe, though, you'll be a good person to talk to about people who have... trouble adjusting. Eventually." It's said more quietly. "Happens more often than you'd think."

"I believe you, " says Kinory earnestly when he finishes, giving her side of the snow fort's moat a final pat before sitting back onto her heels. "And - maybe you're right. I imagine I'll feel at least a tiny bit less uncertain about all of this. Eventually. As you say." Still, there's a considering look for that snowball he's idly rolling. "I was almost convinced that I was the only person in my class who was scared of various things as we started our training. I know that I wasn't, but - it felt like it, at times. Maybe it would have been easier if I had been from here and Impressed green or blue. Not, " she's quick to amend, "that I'd change my circumstances, of course."

K'del's answer comes slowly, as if he's still thinking through his words as they escape, one at a time. "Yours is only a class of seven," he says. "Still not the only one to struggle. I struggled-- with different things, I guess, but still. Being the only brown, for you, must have been... difficult." He turns his head, now, aiming to look at her directly. "Guess it's easy to feel alone. Maybe it ''would'' have been easier. But you and Ineuth wouldn't've been you and Ineuth." He transfers the snowball from one hand to the other, feeling the weight out with thoughtful, deliberate motions. "Not really sure what I'm getting at," he adds, then, suddenly rueful. "Just - weyrlinghood's all about adjustments and changes. ''Supposed'' to be hard. You're okay."

Kinory hesitates, squeezing her eyes shut in the middle of a brief grimace. "It was hardest, I think, when Svissath ... " and she lets herself trail off, troubled. "I think Ineuth felt that more keenly than some of the others may have, at the time, " she gets out haltingly. It's a rough topic to touch upon for many reasons, so she does her best to retreat from it, trying on a tentative smile for the bronzerider's reassurances. "I guess we wouldn't start to turn into solid pairs if it weren't challenging, " she says at last. "Thank you. I feel much better about all of it than I did at the beginning, but - I think I'll be thankful when it's over with." Meanwhile, Ineuth is helping a side contingent of kids roll up large snowballs with his nose for the beginning of what promises to be a very rotund snowperson. Or a snow-egg.

Mention of Svissath draws a wince from K'del, and turns his face away: it's not Kinory he's staring at the snow so moodily about, though, and when he does finally manage to answer, there's no censure in his tone. "Of course," he says. "Guess I'm not surprised by that. It was-- rough." For him, too, but that goes quietly unspoken. "I-- anyway. Good. I'm glad. Can't blame you for that, not at all. Guess you'll be senior weyrlings soon, and ''that'' makes a difference to a lot of things. Did for me, anyway." His eyes flick towards Ineuth's progress, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. His snowball, however, gets crumbled between his fingers, the snow dropped back towards the ground.

Kinory recoils a hint after that wince, suddenly small and several times sadder. "I'm sorry, K'del, " she mumbles. She can't pretend to understand what he's felt, having never lost someone she loved in that way, but she does understand that it must be very, very hard. And so she's all too happy to cleave back onto the topic of senior weyrlinghood, offering up an equally just-there smile for him as he looks to Ineuth. Tentatively, "What do you think they're talking him into over there?"

"No, no," says K'del, attempting to wave off his own discomfort, and Kinory's too, though there's an edge of it that he's unable to reach: Svissath's name will never be free of associations of loss. Senior weyrlinghood is easier, and better still are those children, and that young dragon in the midst of them. "Probably," he says, after a moment, "they're hoping he'll pick that snowball up and drop it on someone for them. S'what my boys keep badgering for, anyway, when it's Cadejoth. Must be something else, growing up with dragons all around to try and drag into your games."

It's a small gesture that's every bit as uncertainly polite as Kinory herself can be, but one of her hands slowly reaches over with the aim to cover one of his hands, perhaps to offer a brief pressure atop it should she succeed. One of the little girls seems intent on trying to sit on top of the dragon-made snowball, but has to settle instead for plaintively begging to get a better view. Kinory looks their way and smiles a little; Ineuth is very good-natured about the whole thing, hunkering down onto the ground so that small hands and legs can hoist their owners up onto his paws and scoot up for a warmer seat. "I don't think I did that as a kid, " the weyrling reflects aloud, "but it was - comforting to be around them. And fascinating, too."

K'del's eyes are on the children, but he's not unaware of the movement of Kinory's hand, surely, not when he's so unsurprised by that pressure. It's enough to make him turn his head, though, and to gift her with a quiet smile of thanks. "I bet," he says, still keeping his voice low and quiet. "Came here when I was fifteen. Got to fly a couple of times before I Impressed, but not many. Pretended I didn't think dragons were ''amazing''; lied, of course. Guess I'm glad my kids'll be more used to them, before they make the decision whether they want to Stand or not. Guess we'll see." Reluctantly, he draws away from her hand, and from the fort, rising back to his feet and beginning to shake snow off of his trousers. "Ought to get these two in," he admits. "'fore they freeze."

Kinory returns K'del's smile with a little one of her own, casting another look over at the children at play. "It's a lot to get into, Impressing, " she agrees. "Far more serious of a thing than I think any of us can realize, when we're young." There's a rueful laugh; of course, she's still rather young. As he withdraws, so too does she, mirroring his movements of standing and clearing the snow that's accumulated on her pants. "It wouldn't do to have them freeze." Ineuth, too, stands once the children on his forelimb have scampered back down to the ground, rumbling happily over their fort with its flag and moat. "It was nice talking to you, " she confesses, shy. "I'm - sure Ineuth and I will see you and your kids around."

"Makes me glad we ''usually'' don't Search anyone under fifteen," admits K'del, sounding intensely thoughtful. "Can you imagine being even younger? Making a lifechanging decision like that." He shakes his head, apparently both to clear the thought and to shake some accumulated snow out of his hair. "It was nice talking to you, too, Kinory. You're always welcome to come play with us, if you see us-- and the boys, in general. Come and talk anytime, okay?" He doesn't linger, though: there are two young boys who need convincing before they'll go indoors. Two young boys who, in the end, drag their feet as they're escorted towards the caverns, casting longing glances back at the snowdrifts, and their now-abandoned fort. Life is ''so'' unfair.
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Logs:Making Adjustments

2013-01-30T03:28:51Z

Kinory: Created page with "{{ Log | who = K'del, Kinory | where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr | what = Playing in the snow and building forts make it easier to talk about difficulties. | when = Day 3, M..."

{{ Log
| who = K'del, Kinory
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Playing in the snow and building forts make it easier to talk about difficulties.
| when = Day 3, Month 12, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2013.01.28
| quote = ... if there's something I ''can'' help with?
| weather = Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor.
| categories =
| mentions = Meara, I'kris
| ooc = Takes place before [[Logs:Snowballs_and_Gauntlets_Thrown|Snowballs and Gauntlets Thrown]].
| icons = k'del.jpg, kinory.png
| log = Despite the falling snow - or perhaps because of it, Kinory and Ineuth are apparently spending at least some of their free time today outside, even if the small rider is all but indistinguishable in layer after layer of sweaters, coat, massive scarf and a hat. Nearby, several children have started giggling and pushing snow into what promises to be a lumpy start to a snow fort. As they draw nearer, the weyrling and her brown offer a cheery hello and soon get pulled into the fun, particularly since having a dragon help makes the wall-building go much faster. It seems to do the young pair good, too; Kinory hasn't sounded this light-hearted in some time.

''Some'' of those children must be K'del's, because although he's not present when Kinory arrives, he shows up a few minutes later, proudly bearing a short wooden pole with a handkerchief tied to the top of it: every snow fort needs a flag! Jogging closer, he seems initially surprised by Kinory's presence, but a moment later a smile blossoms onto his pink-cheeked face. "How's this look?" he asks, including all of them, children and weyrling alike, in his question, offering waved dramatically. And then, "Hey there."

Kinory goes crimson when K'del arrives, dark eyes wide. Still, she voices her approval along with that of the redheaded girl next to her and is quick to get to her feet, dusting off her coat as best she can. Her answering, "Hi, " is quiet, and she awkwardly stuffs her gloved hands into her pockets, moving around the other side of the wall to lean self-consciously against Ineuth. She watches the kids stockpiling more snow as the sandy brown helpfully shovels quantities forward with his tail. It's a few minutes before she adds, "How's Cadejoth?"

"Don't stop--" K'del all-but-begs. He's smiling, encouragingly. "You can help me--" A boy of about seven, his features clearly indicating his parentage, declares, "Build a moat! It needs a ''moat'', daddy!" K'del's smile twitches, amused. "You can help me with the moat. Come on." He beckons her back, even as he moves to crouch in front of the snow structure, oblivious to the cold of the snow beneath his knees. His flag is handed off, and he beguns to dig. "Cadejoth's doing better. How-- are you? And Ineuth? Wish we could have--" Helped, presumably, but aside from his rueful smile, he can't seem to finish that sentence.

Kinory can't help it; she giggles a little at the boy's insistence on a moat and nodding, skirts back around the edge of the wall to sink down next to the other rider. "Okay. One moat, coming up, " she assures them both. More softly, to K'del, "Good, I'm - I'm glad." She shivers, which could be forgiven for being up close and personal with the snow. "I'm, " inhale. "I'm going to be okay, " is what she settles on after a weighty silence. "I think. Ineuth's better, since he's already forgotten most of what that felt like and I haven't cared to remind him in detail just yet. That was an awful night." For his rueful smile, she has an embarrassed one of her own. "That's kind of you, but - I don't think there's anything you could have done, at that point."

"I know," he says, admitting openly that no, there really ''was'' nothing he could've done. Even so, he looks apologetic. "Just-- well. Glad you're both doing better. And - maybe I'm not the Weyrleader, anymore, but that doesn't mean... if there's something I ''can'' help with?" His nod seems to be intended to finish the thought properly, since the words aren't really there. A few moments later, however, he breaths out a white-breathed sigh and adds, "It was an awful night. For me - and probably worse for you." One of the boys yells for him again, showing off the flag - now firmly planted in the snow fort - and he grins up at them, smiling approvingly.

"So am I. Glad, that is, " and the weyrling's subsequent glance is a little confused, particularly at his rather open-ended offer of assistance. Settling for shaking her head uncertainly, she focuses instead on deepening her side of the snow fort's moat, ears red. "It's not something I'd care to repeat, " she rejoins after a little bit. "I know that that isn't typically how most go, and it'll be better next time." Someone's definitely working to convince herself of it and not quite succeeding. Yet.

That uncertainty seems to make K'del awkward, too, because he ducks his head away, suddenly focusing very intently upon this moat building: it's super important. "I--" He begins. Then, "Cadejoth's first chase was a gold flight, too. Senior flight. Peirith at Fort. Supposed to be a closed flight. Didn't... turn out as badly as yours, but it was rough. Next time'll definitely be better. If... my experience is anything to go by." He's still not glancing at her, but at least he manages to sound mostly confident of this.

Surprised, Kinory does turn to look over at him briefly as he describes his own first flight experience. "Oh, " is all she can seem to summon up in response, returning her attention to her side of the moat. "Sometimes, I wonder if blueriders might not have it a little easier. They'll never have the stress of the same possibilities." Because baby dragon making is stressful, serious business. On the other side of the wall, Ineuth is clearly pleased to be among such enthusiastic children, eyes a sparkling blue-green. His rider glances up to watch him interact with them for a bit, awkwardness shelved for a wistful little beam. He likes them. They seem to like him! Cute.

K'del's laugh is more genuine, and even warm, this time. "Too right," he agrees. "No baby dragons, and no ''possibility'' of becoming Weyrleader, ever." This is not the right conversation in which to discuss ''that'', though, and thus, though he goes quiet for a few moments in thought, he moves on. Glancing sidelong at Kinory, as he smoothes the curve of the snow around his part of the moat, he says, "He seems happy with them. The kids. Cadejoth, too. Come summer, they all play in the lake together. You... like kids. I guess."

Kinory gives a little shudder at the mention of the possibility of becoming Weyrleader, apparently scared silly by the very notion. "Right, " she echoes in kind, gaze ducking shyly as she happens to catch him mid-glance. "He does, doesn't he? He really likes them, likes the idea of getting to play with them. I like them, too. Very much." There's no guesswork needed; there's nothing behind the sudden warmth that effuses her or her delight but some sort of genuine joy. There's a small sigh, too. "I don't think I'm ready for full-on parenthood, myself, but I do like spending time with other people's children. It's really too bad that 'dragonriding nanny' isn't on the list of post-weyrlinghood jobs."

K'del has a knowing smile for that shudder, an acknowledgement that's obvious in the twist of his mouth. Instead of directly answering her words, he indicates a short red-head boy amidst the group of children. "That's Kasey," he says. And then - a taller boy, strawberry-blond. "And Nikalas. They're seven. Mine. Guess I'm kind of a fair-weather father: their mothers and the nurseries do a lot of the heavy lifting, but I've always done as much as I can. Easier, now." Without that big, heavy knot. "You could assist the Weyrlingmaster, maybe, though that's not quite ''children''. Anyway, it's Interval. If you want to help the nannies, in your off time? Don't see why you can't."

Kinory repeats the names after K'del points out his kids, nodding attentively. Her soft, "I'm sure it was hard to be immediately there for them before, " is compassionate, if tentative; she has little reference for such things, after all, aside from having her own dragon to care for and precious little time for much else over the past nearly nine months. She giggles, faintly. "I'm not sure she'd take me on even if I felt capable of working with her charges. You're right - it isn't the same. Far more challenging. And some of the new riders could be ''older'' than me." Definitely not the same thing. But helping the nannies out in her spare time? That idea elicits a wider smile.

"It was," agrees K'del. "But it was worth it. Always." He grins as he says this, no doubt conscious that he's speaking to someone who probably doesn't need convincing on that subject. Idly, he begins to form a snowball between his hands, focusing on it only in a vague sort of way: he's got eyes for Kinory and their conversation, and eyes, too, for his sons and their friends as they play. "When I became Weyrleader," he grins, "Pretty much everyone was older than me. Candidates, weyrlings, riders. Not something I'd recommend ''now''." But maybe, his tone implies, in a few turns. "Maybe, though, you'll be a good person to talk to about people who have... trouble adjusting. Eventually." It's said more quietly. "Happens more often than you'd think."

"I believe you, " says Kinory earnestly when he finishes, giving her side of the snow fort's moat a final pat before sitting back onto her heels. "And - maybe you're right. I imagine I'll feel at least a tiny bit less uncertain about all of this. Eventually. As you say." Still, there's a considering look for that snowball he's idly rolling. "I was almost convinced that I was the only person in my class who was scared of various things as we started our training. I know that I wasn't, but - it felt like it, at times. Maybe it would have been easier if I had been from here and Impressed green or blue. Not, " she's quick to amend, "that I'd change my circumstances, of course."

K'del's answer comes slowly, as if he's still thinking through his words as they escape, one at a time. "Yours is only a class of seven," he says. "Still not the only one to struggle. I struggled-- with different things, I guess, but still. Being the only brown, for you, must have been... difficult." He turns his head, now, aiming to look at her directly. "Guess it's easy to feel alone. Maybe it ''would'' have been easier. But you and Ineuth wouldn't've been you and Ineuth." He transfers the snowball from one hand to the other, feeling the weight out with thoughtful, deliberate motions. "Not really sure what I'm getting at," he adds, then, suddenly rueful. "Just - weyrlinghood's all about adjustments and changes. ''Supposed'' to be hard. You're okay."

Kinory hesitates, squeezing her eyes shut in the middle of a brief grimace. "It was hardest, I think, when Svissath ... " and she lets herself trail off, troubled. "I think Ineuth felt that more keenly than some of the others may have, at the time, " she gets out haltingly. It's a rough topic to touch upon for many reasons, so she does her best to retreat from it, trying on a tentative smile for the bronzerider's reassurances. "I guess we wouldn't start to turn into solid pairs if it weren't challenging, " she says at last. "Thank you. I feel much better about all of it than I did at the beginning, but - I think I'll be thankful when it's over with." Meanwhile, Ineuth is helping a side contingent of kids roll up large snowballs with his nose for the beginning of what promises to be a very rotund snowperson. Or a snow-egg.

Mention of Svissath draws a wince from K'del, and turns his face away: it's not Kinory he's staring at the snow so moodily about, though, and when he does finally manage to answer, there's no censure in his tone. "Of course," he says. "Guess I'm not surprised by that. It was-- rough." For him, too, but that goes quietly unspoken. "I-- anyway. Good. I'm glad. Can't blame you for that, not at all. Guess you'll be senior weyrlings soon, and ''that'' makes a difference to a lot of things. Did for me, anyway." His eyes flick towards Ineuth's progress, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. His snowball, however, gets crumbled between his fingers, the snow dropped back towards the ground.

Kinory recoils a hint after that wince, suddenly small and several times sadder. "I'm sorry, K'del, " she mumbles. She can't pretend to understand what he's felt, having never lost someone she loved in that way, but she does understand that it must be very, very hard. And so she's all too happy to cleave back onto the topic of senior weyrlinghood, offering up an equally just-there smile for him as he looks to Ineuth. Tentatively, "What do you think they're talking him into over there?"

"No, no," says K'del, attempting to wave off his own discomfort, and Kinory's too, though there's an edge of it that he's unable to reach: Svissath's name will never be free of associations of loss. Senior weyrlinghood is easier, and better still are those children, and that young dragon in the midst of them. "Probably," he says, after a moment, "they're hoping he'll pick that snowball up and drop it on someone for them. S'what my boys keep badgering for, anyway, when it's Cadejoth. Must be something else, growing up with dragons all around to try and drag into your games."

It's a small gesture that's every bit as uncertainly polite as Kinory herself can be, but one of her hands slowly reaches over with the aim to cover one of his hands, perhaps to offer a brief pressure atop it should she succeed. One of the little girls seems intent on trying to sit on top of the dragon-made snowball, but has to settle instead for plaintively begging to get a better view. Kinory looks their way and smiles a little; Ineuth is very good-natured about the whole thing, hunkering down onto the ground so that small hands and legs can hoist their owners up onto his paws and scoot up for a warmer seat. "I don't think I did that as a kid, " the weyrling reflects aloud, "but it was - comforting to be around them. And fascinating, too."

K'del's eyes are on the children, but he's not unaware of the movement of Kinory's hand, surely, not when he's so unsurprised by that pressure. It's enough to make him turn his head, though, and to gift her with a quiet smile of thanks. "I bet," he says, still keeping his voice low and quiet. "Came here when I was fifteen. Got to fly a couple of times before I Impressed, but not many. Pretended I didn't think dragons were ''amazing''; lied, of course. Guess I'm glad my kids'll be more used to them, before they make the decision whether they want to Stand or not. Guess we'll see." Reluctantly, he draws away from her hand, and from the fort, rising back to his feet and beginning to shake snow off of his trousers. "Ought to get these two in," he admits. "'fore they freeze."

Kinory returns K'del's smile with a little one of her own, casting another look over at the children at play. "It's a lot to get into, Impressing, " she agrees. "Far more serious of a thing than I think any of us can realize, when we're young." There's a rueful laugh; of course, she's still rather young. As he withdraws, so too does she, mirroring his movements of standing and clearing the snow that's accumulated on her pants. "It wouldn't do to have them freeze." Ineuth, too, stands once the children on his forelimb have scampered back down to the ground, rumbling happily over their fort with its flag and moat. "It was nice talking to you, " she confesses, shy. "I'm - sure Ineuth and I will see you and your kids around."

"Makes me glad we ''usually'' don't Search anyone under fifteen," admits K'del, sounding intensely thoughtful. "Can you imagine being even younger? Making a lifechanging decision like that." He shakes his head, apparently both to clear the thought and to shake some accumulated snow out of his hair. "It was nice talking to you, too, Kinory. You're always welcome to come play with us, if you see us-- and the boys, in general. Come and talk anytime, okay?" He doesn't linger, though: there are two young boys who need convincing before they'll go indoors. Two young boys who, in the end, drag their feet as they're escorted towards the caverns, casting longing glances back at the snowdrifts, and their now-abandoned fort. Life is ''so'' unfair.
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Logs:I Can't

2013-01-25T13:58:22Z

Kinory:

{{ Log
| who = Kinory
| where = Azaylia's weyr / Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Ineuth briefly chases Hraedhyth. Kinory has a panic attack.
| when = Day 18, Month 11, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2013.01.23
| quote = It's too quiet.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc = Takes place during [[Logs:Hraedhyth's_Maiden_Flight]].
| icons = kinory despair.jpg
| log = It’s too quiet.

Kinory hears nothing but the wind as Ineuth gives himself over to the currents, to Hraedhyth’s drumbeats, to the blood, to ''lust''.

Fear roils somewhere in her stomach as she huddles into herself, away from the more experienced, more eager riders. They, at least, knew what they were getting themselves into. They had a frame of reference for what was going to happen.

Ineuth ''wants''. Or at least, he thinks that’s what this feeling must be. He likes Hraedhyth, certainly. Maybe he supposes that she’d like him, too, if he just had a chance to prove himself –

Her father’s sneer. Ineuth, straining. A strange, pulsing warmth somewhere below her belly that echoes what’s just possessed her dragon. ''I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t –''

They scream. It’s a sound both within and without as the weyrling brown tumbles from the sky and his rider stumbles from Azaylia’s weyr. To Kinory, the sound seems to go on forever, echoing repeatedly as fear and bile well up and don’t stay down; she loses her dinner somewhere outside. She’s dimly aware of a dull ache spreading through her chest as she finds Ineuth a few minutes later, clinging hard to whatever limb of his she can reach.

Fear still pounds at an alarming rate in her head. Maybe those are Hraedhyth’s drums, echoing through Ineuth as the flight overhead draws to a close. Maybe that’s the sound of them, all of them, coming to take her away. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe she never should have been here. Maybe –

Everything goes black for the rest of the flight. She’s peripherally aware of Ineuth feeling fearful, of arms lifting her to take her somewhere with a pillow and a soft blanket. In the aftermath and confusion of what she’d later learn were multiple injuries sustained by the remaining contenders for Hraedhyth, she thinks she must have cried herself to sleep - but she can't be sure.

She can't be sure of anything.

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Logs:I Can't

2013-01-24T13:59:57Z

Kinory: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Kinory | where = Azaylia's weyr / Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr | what = Ineuth briefly chases Hraedhyth. Kinory has a panic attack. | when = Day 18, Month 11, ..."

{{ Log
| who = Kinory
| where = Azaylia's weyr / Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Ineuth briefly chases Hraedhyth. Kinory has a panic attack.
| when = Day 18, Month 11, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2013.01.23
| quote = It's too quiet.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc = Takes place during [[Logs:Hraedhyth's_Maiden_Flight]].
| icons = kinory despair.jpg
| log = It’s too quiet.

Kinory hears nothing but the wind as Ineuth gives himself over to the currents, to Hraedhyth’s drumbeats, to the blood, to ''lust''.

Fear roils somewhere in her stomach as she huddles into herself, away from the more experienced, more eager riders. They, at least, knew what they were getting themselves into. They had a frame of reference for what was going to happen.

Ineuth ''wants''. Or at least, he thinks that’s what this feeling must be. He likes Hraedhyth, certainly. Maybe he supposes that she’d like him, too, if he just had a chance to prove himself –

Her father’s sneer. Ineuth, straining. A strange, pulsing warmth somewhere below her belly that echoes what’s just possessed her dragon. ''I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t –''

They scream. It’s a sound both within and without as the weyrling brown tumbles from the sky and his rider stumbles from Azaylia’s weyr. To Kinory, the sound seems to go on forever, echoing repeatedly as fear and bile well up and don’t stay down; she loses her dinner somewhere outside. She’s dimly aware of a dull ache spreading through her chest as she finds Ineuth a few minutes later, clinging hard to whatever limb of his she can reach.

Fear still pounds at an alarming rate in her head. Maybe those are Hraedhyth’s drums, echoing through Ineuth as the flight overhead draws to a close. Maybe that’s the sound of them, all of them, coming to take her away. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe she never should have been here. Maybe –

Everything goes black for the rest of the flight. She’s dimly aware of Ineuth feeling fearful, of arms lifting her to take her somewhere with a pillow and a soft blanket. In the aftermath and confusion of what she’d later learn were multiple injuries sustained by the remaining contenders for Hraedhyth, she thinks she must have cried herself to sleep - but she can't be sure.

She can't be sure of anything.

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2012-12-03T01:55:00Z

Kinory: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Kinory | where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr | what = After I'kris and Svissath go ''between, '' Kinory is forced to realize that she doesn't have to shar..."

{{ Log
| who = Kinory
| where = Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
| what = After I'kris and Svissath go ''between, '' Kinory is forced to realize that she doesn't have to share their fate.
| when = Day 22, month 5, turn 30
| gamedate = 2012.11.30
| quote = 'Right' was such a subjective word.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions = I'kris
| ooc =
| icons =
| log = Kinory twirled along the beach, laughed, leaned over to pick up a shell. “See, Ineuth? This is a shell. Ineuth?”

She frowned, suddenly, when there was no reply. The beach before her shimmered unnaturally, trembled for a long moment before everything began to wash away around her. Anguish ripped away what was left of the dream, slapping her hard in the face.

The dusky-skinned girl jolted awake, tears already rolling down her cheeks to stain the casing of her pillow. Frightened, she immediately turned to press close to Ineuth – Ineuth, who was sitting upright and making a dreadful, raw noise within and without.

<< They are ''gone'', >> and even in his grief, the baby dragon sounded terribly confused. << Why did they have to go? >>

Kin curled into her lifemate’s warm, spicy hide, trying hard to muffle the little sobs that kept spilling out of her. I’kris and Svissath, gone. Was this just? She certainly couldn’t say. But the boy that she had met wasn’t a bad person; that much, she knew.

One hand dug into her jacket from where it sat folded at the foot of her cot, pulling out the missive that Drasor had snuck into her hand as he and her mother departed the day after the hatching. She hadn’t seen or heard from them since, but she read their words every other day, mostly out of confusion.

''Keep doing the right thing.''

She ripped it into tiny, tiny pieces, all at once fearful and angry in her grief.

That couldn’t be their fate. Ineuth – and her fellow weyrlings - deserved better. Silently, she vowed to try to find a way to stop the cycle. There had to be a better way, even if it meant working against her family’s wishes in the future without their knowledge.

''Right'' was such a subjective word.

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