View source for Logs:You can never really go home

{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Vignette
| who = Taikrin
| where = Crom Foothill Mines
| what = Taikrin was told that she should find a way to take a ride a'dragonback before the hatching, given that she'd never done so. She was also told that she should let her family know that she'll be standing as a candidate at High Reaches. These two events are therefor combined, and: drama.
| when = Day 25, Month 3, Turn 22
|day=25
|month=3
|turn=22
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2010.03.18
| quote = Aren't you supposed to be in lockup with the other criminals?!
| weather = 
| categories =
| mentions = 
| ooc = 
| icons = 
| log = 

In the end, getting to the mineholds out in the Crom foothills wasn't the hard part. As Taikrin discovered, mudwrestling is apparently the great equalizer: an impromptu afternoon bout with a rather buxom blonde candidate provided her with several new rider friends. The hard part wasn't even arranging an afternoon off from chores, given the nature of her request. As it turned out, the hardest part of going home, for Taikrin, was figuring out exactly where home /was/.

Despite a memory rusty from nearly six turns of absence, she knew more or less where she lived. She just knew it in terms of 'five clicks down this one path' and 'turn left at the funny rock stack', which were not precisely viable directions from adragon-back. It took nearly an hour in the air, in fact, before Taikrin and her escort were even on the right track, and another half-hour until they found the right general direction.

Given the early afternoon hour, the barracks and cotholds clustered around the entrance to the mines were full of scurrying women who paused in their daily routine to gawp at the spectacle of a blue dragon landing in their midst. Utterly bemused, Taikrin slipped in amongst them with a rather smug grin, and was soon directed towards a different cothold than memory supplied. Proceeding down the indicated path, she could only stop and stare when the average-sized stone building came into sight. 

"Bloody shells... they been doin' alright," Taikrin could only murmur under her breath, letting out a soft whistle to punctuate the feeling. "Gotta be twice's big as th'old place."

Of course, there is a limit as to how long a sketchy looking young woman like herself could remain standing unnoticed outside of someone's house. Before long, a girl in her mid-teens emerged from the doorway, looking rather concerned. The younger girl smoothed out the front panel of her dress and, composing a blandly friendly smile upon her rather pretty, doll-like features, asked, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

If Taikrin had been gawking before, she became absolutely shell-struck at the appearance of this younger girl. "Bloody-- Laira? Izzat-- s'really you? Shells, girl, y'look-- y'look like a lady." A cocky smile appeared on her face, though it hardly with the horrible uncertainty lingering beneath. "Ain't y'got a hug f'r yer sister?"

"I'm sure I don't know-- wait." The younger girl -- Laira -- squinted at Taikrin, then let out a gasp partially hidden behind an upraised hand. "No! Taikrin! I /never/ though-- how did you-- /what/ are you doing here?" She dashed forward, throwing her arms around her elder sister in an unabashed display, complete with teary doe-eyes. "You left us!" 

Taikrin, for her part, apparently braced for the impact for she only staggered a pace or two before wrapping her arms tightly around the other girl. "I know, I know," she murmurs over and over again into the shorter girl's gently curled hair. "I'm sorry Laira."

The tears faded almost as abruptly as they started, then, and a soft fist was driven into Taikrin's shoulder in their stead. "I missed you." Pulling back, Laira lifts a quavery smile. "Nobody else played at dolls like you did. But-- what happened? where did y'go? Ma's going to blow her top, and-- oh." Just as quick as the smile appeared, it faded again as Laira's expression collapsed into sadness. "Bet you didn't hear-- pa died. A couple of turns ago. Ma married one of the Journeyman last summer - Riltan, if y'remember him, and we all moved here. And--" Laira makes another weak attempt at a happy expression, but it falls short. "We're going to have a new sister. Or brother, I guess."

Shocked, Taikrin did little but cling to her sister throughout the telling, and afterwards to remark, incongruisly, "Guess that's why y'got this fancy place, now." 

Laira's fist once more made contact with Taikrin's shoulder, this time with a bit more force. 

Silence reigned for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts, before Taikrin asked, "An' where's Rinayla at? Shards, she's gotta be near a lady, too, now. Still runnin' wild?"

"She's still only twelve," Laira remarked with all the scorn a teenager can heap upon one still on the cusp. "But she's not wild. And she's at lessons with the harper. He thinks she has talent, and he's taught her to /read/. Thinks she might be able to take up a craft that's not mining! Can you imagine?" 

Sharing a smile over this fate of the youngest, Laira and Taikrin began once more to drift off into companionable silence before the younger girl gave herself a shake and, grabbing on to Taikrin's arm, abruptly pulled her towards the house. "Look at us, standing around like scattershells! Come inside and tell me /everything/!"

*****

"... an' now, well, guess I'm a candidate. Might be maybe I'll have a dragon, next few sevendays." Taikrin sipped at her tea, incredibly hoarse following a half-hour long exposition of The Life and Crimes of Taikrin. "Doin' okay."

A stunned silence filled the large eating area, made all tbe more poignent by Laira's gaping jaw and tear-filled gaze. Barely a moment passed before the girl slipped out of her chair to wrap her arms around the shoulders of her sister. "We almost lost you, just like da. I couldn't-- I wish y'could stay. With us. I don't want to lose you again. Y'can meet my fiance, and our new stepdad, and the baby--"

"Your /WHAT/?! You're--"

Whatever Taikrin had been about to say was lost at the sound of the door slamming open and a large, rather imposing woman popping inside with her arms full of blankets. "Laira, dear, you and your friend give me a hand and-- Faranth, ''Taikrin''!" 

Blankets fell to the floor, unheeded, at the first disbelieving sight of this, the eldest wayward child, come home to roost. But not long did the matriarch remain stunned; Taikrin barely had time to struggle to her feet before ruddy color flushed the older woman's face, 

"What're y'/doing/ here, you tunnelsnake!" Though the phrase echoed Laira's earlier exclamation, it contained none of the girl's delight or surprise. "Aren't y'supposed t'be in lockup with all the other /criminals/?" 

As red as her mother went, Taikrin's color faded paler and paler. "Ma, I can explain-- I ain't, I got released, an' look I'm a candidate now and it's honest work an' a rider brought me an' they think I might be a rider maybe an' a rider brought me an' /please/ ma--"

Despite though her babbled pleading might be, Taikrin's mother would have none of it. The flow of words was cut off with an abrupt hand gesture, and any ensuing protests quieted with an angry roar. "Out! Get /out/ of my house! I won't have y'corrupting any more of my babies! You're a plague an' a curse an' th'downfall of yer own father an' I won't /have/ it."

"No, ma, listen, Taikrin's worked so hard, please-- I miss her!" Laira's own pleading is quelled with a furious look and an imperious gesture towards the back rooms. 

"Enough, girl. No backtalk! It's for yer own good. Your sister is /dead/." The venemous glare was turned on Taikrin again, even as hands clasped over her obviously bulging midsection. "Now get out, you lying little thief. I mean it!"

No maternal threat could keep Laira from one last quick, frantic hug of her shell-shocked sister's neck, nor prevent the hurried whisper of, "It's okay, it's the babe and the surprise, she doesn't mean it, I'll work on her, /please/, I'll write you--" and then, like a flash, the teary-eyed younger sister was off and running out the door.

Throughout the entire exchange and verbal berating Taikrin remained still, gaze lowered, and utterly shell-shocked. "Yes'm." Meek and utterly complaint, she sketched out a surprisingly capable full bow, and lingered only long enough to murmur, "I'm at High Reaches Weyr now, ma, if y'need t'know." A hopeful glance upwards, though, was killed a'borning by the wrath apparent in the other's gaze. 

With a heavy stride, and nothing left to be said, Taikrin pulled herself to the doorway then out. Tears appeared, briefly, in the dark brown gaze so similar to her mother's, but by the time she strides back towards the square and her dragonrider escort, her eyes are dry and her jaw set with stony resolve.

She'll just have to prove to them that she's not a complete waste of humanity; no point in crying over it.




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