Difference between revisions of "Logs:People"

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

Kairek - no, Kai - no, no, Uncle Kai, at least to the younger ones, who aren't nearly so refined as Lilabet - has the good fortune to live at Fort Hold. The seasons aren't so different there, and he arrived ready. It's a good job, because if he'd come in shoes and not boots, he'd like have lost at least one of them by now as he squelches along beside that young woman there, well after his exciting surprise arrival, exciting gifts, and a good few exciting stories for everyone to enjoy. "So are you looking to start populating libraries with your stories, then? Or would you rather put little things to song, more for children?" Not like herself, of course. Like those little ones who have been given 'musical' clanging toys. Oh yes. (Poor H'kon.)

Madilla, whose usual calm has been tested by nerves in the days leading up to the expected familial visit, has been strained rather further by Kairek's arrival, and, especially, those clanging toys. It's her eldest daughter, though, who gets to escape - who gets to traipse, now, through the muddy remains of the rain, turning her chin up to study Kairek with unabashed interest. A little more abashed is the flush that follows reference to her stories, though her expression remains steady. "Not for children," she says, firmly. "I think I'd like to compose grand epics, eventually. The words, anyway. More poetry than songs, unless I stick to writing prose."

His arrival even made his and H'kon's mother go quieter, and that's saying something. Maybe that's what prompted this excursion, although, now, the tall and skinny man has full attention on his walking, tromping, traipsing companion. "Ahah. You're one for rhythms, then. Histories too, I'd guess? All Weyr and Threadfall, or would you put some of us poor holders and craftsmen in there, as well? Must be some good stories to tell there, if you went digging." He's almost left her a space to answer before that extra thought floats into his mind, and right out past his lips: "Don't mind repeating yourself now and then, I hope. Helps your reciter with the memory bits." Apparently, this is more exciting than prose.

Lilabet is not so distracted by this conversation - with a real live Harper who is sort-of related to her! - that she can't easily see, and step around, a puddle in the path. Her mouth's already opening to answer when Kairek appends that last statement, and that makes her laugh. "It's not my job to make it easier for someone who makes their living that way," she points out, the words not wholly serious. "Histories, too, but not just Weyrs. My mother's from a hold, remember, and my father was an apprentice, once. And Dee's father is a Lord." She's rather too focused on being an adult to add the almost obligatory 'so there', but perhaps there's the sense of it, anyway. "Perhaps I could write the epic of the exiles, one day."

"Oh, but it is," that real-live-almost-related-Harper counters, though not abrasively. Almost playfully, really. "If you want your work to be spread out by the performers, you've got to give them spots to regroup and keep tabs. Else they'll butcher your words, and who would want that, after so much time spent composing them?" He clucks his tongue lightly, and makes a point of stepping directly in the next puddle, a bit of a quiet amusement tugging at the corners of Kai's eyes, much like his brother. Unlike his brother, of course, that face is turned right over to Lilabet, either sharing what might be a game, or, perhaps, accepting that hidden rebuke. Then comes the nod. "An epic to try and stir the pot, at least for some, hm? I approve." He flicks his fingers, lightly, at the bit of nothing in the air.

"I... hadn't thought of it quite like that," allows Lilabet, mulling over this possibility even as she's eyeing Kairek and his puddle-stepping; her mouth responds with a rather more generous pull, the corners lifting into a smile that is well-pleased and apparently quite deliberate. She clambers up onto a small boulder, turning her gaze out over the lake, and the bowl beyond it. "I don't claim to understand the legalities of it," she continues, this time obviously referring to the exiles, "and maybe I won't even after I've apprenticed, because it seems like most people don't, either. But it makes an interesting story, doesn't it? Why law? For you, I mean?"

Kairek offers Lilabet a crooked smile, again similar to his brother's, but again, easier, and more accessible. "Artists might feel a need to share with the world, but never underestimate the self-interest that goes into making sure what they share gets shared properly. We're all protective, deep down, of what we do, I think." Lilabet's perch on the boulder brings the man to a stop, first to consider her, and then, to follow her gaze out over the water. "Legalities mostly mean conventions that a bunch of people made up to keep themselves more comfortable. I don't know how much proper, deep understanding there can ever really be of it." He shrugs, easily again. "I grew up with rules. I broke a lot of them. It makes you wonder about them, I suppose... How people conceive of them, what they mean to do. Some of it's dry, but underneath all that, you get all that mushy humanity that really doesn't make any sense at all. Good fun. And also," he favours her a sidelong look, "I can't carry a tune to save my life if it's got more than three notes to it."

Serious contemplation answers most of Kairek's words, but Lilabet is still only eleven, and that last remark? It sets her off into a peal of giggles. "You and H'kon aren't much alike, are you," she says, not really allowing it to become a question. "I mean, physically, a bit. But... you grew up breaking the rules, and H'kon upholding them." She steps back down off the rock, directly into a muddy puddle, dark water splashing up around them. "I suspect he'd see law in a pretty different way, though I've never talked to him about it. People's motivations, all of that mushy stuff? It doesn't always make sense. I guess that's inevitable, but it's interesting."

Kairek's not above a chuckle of his own, for his own joke, for Lilabet's giggles, for whatever. "I think Hal might've been more like me if I hadn't been there at all, honestly. Little brothers have to set themselves apart somehow. Your little brother might play with that toy I gave him, but I'd put money on his never wanting to be a harper - at least, not until you're long gone, and only if he finds something really important in himself that just fits too perfectly. And that, before some dragon gets him." He sidesteps a bit, and toes a puddle, once, twice, ripples intersecting ripples. "People are mostly interested in what's best for them, if you ask me, and a fair few others. Underneath it all, they want what they want because they want it." There's a flick of smile, once more. "The best point is when the rules they've made up around these things backfire and they have to act fairly. It's not human nature, that. If you ask me." A final set of ripples, and he steps back, and watches. "You should ask 'H'kon'," the careful name amuses the older brother, clearly "about that. I bet it would be worth it."

This is quite possibly the first time Lilabet's really heard the shortening of H'kon's name - or really considered it, anyway - and that shows plainly in her expression: it's a completely different facet of the brownrider, and quite possibly a bewildering one. "Dee used to want to copy me in everything," the girl agrees, slowly. "But only when he was really little. Now... right, he wants to be a brownrider like H'kon, and that's all." She glances back behind them, at the prints their boots have left in the soggy ground; her expression is thoughtful and reflective. "I was going to say that not everyone wants things like that. I was going to talk about my mother, and how she's-- but then I realised that I guess she does, too. She's kind and giving and all of that, but she still wants things because she wants them, and not necessarily for noble reasons. Maybe I will ask H'kon. We talk, sometimes. About things."

"Like H'kon," Kai repeats. He doesn't elaborate on that, just shakes his head, still smiling. "I'll give you that much. Not all people - not even all that many, I guess - are only their wants. My father would be one like those, too. And my brother, hm? All that's in law, too. In anything people do, really, I suppose. In everything harpers do, most certainly." The harper looks back over to the girl - sorry, young woman - thoughtful, and for that, once again bearing more similarity to the other men in his family. "That's good. Do, then. He needs more people other than his dragon that he'll talk to witho- that he'll talk to, willingly."

Lilabet resumes walking, now, but slowly: it's obvious that walking is more of an excuse than a purpose, here. It's likely, given the thoughtfulness of her expression, and the rather keen way she regards Kairek, that she'd like to know more about the young Halikon; nonetheless, she doesn't ask. "Harpers really just deal in people, don't they? I mean, healers deal with their bodies and sometimes their minds, but harpers... it's all about how people think, and why they do what they do. Even when it's entertainment." She digs her hands into the pockets of her light jacket, lips pressed tightly against each other before she adds, "He has people. He's never going to be talky like you or me, but I don't think he's lonely. You needn't worry about him."

"All people," Kairek confirms, after watching more Lilabet, than where he's going. It's just when he's giving her some sort of smile, not impressed, but perhaps more familiar, that he skids on a slick of mud and has to catch himself. Like it never happened, even if his eyes are wide, the man nods. "No. No, I don't suppose he is." The shrug isn't commitment not to worry. "You should come visit the hall, sometime," might be an attempt to change the subject or to regain face. Or, it might just be suggestion. "If it's fine with your parents."

Madilla turns back - turns back, indeed, in time to see the end of that skid, though she's surely aware of the rest of it. Her expression shows nothing more than that thoughtful smile, though, except perhaps something knowing about the corners of her mouth. Perhaps it's that she knows people never stop worrying; perhaps not. "I'd like that," she says, firmly. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind. I'll be going for good soon enough." Of course, Lilabet's concept of 'soon enough' is rather different to Madilla's; that battle continues, though one army is clearly better equipped and on more solid ground than the other. "We should turn back. Before you end up in the lake." This time? She's grinning.

"Good. Hal can give you a lift, even. Maybe you could even bring whatever bits of writing you're proudest of. It never hurts to get in the habit of having other eyes looking them over." Solid ground's a thing Kairek might do well to have, himself. "Fine, fine," comes as both hands lift. "As you're responsible for my welfare while we're out, I suppose we'd better. If you're sure they'll be quite ready for us. Hate to overwhelm that little one, or get anyone's face stuck in any poor expressions." Naturally, he'd try end the conversation with mimicry of his brother's eyebrows. Naturally.

"Just..." Lilabet trails off, struggling to put her answer into words. "Be nice. Play nice." Her tone isn't outright chiding, and nor is her expression, and yet there's still something in her tone. Regardless, there's nothing in the way she begins wandering back down the path to suggest she expects an answer. Families... well, they're just families, aren't they? Made up of people.