Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hero of the Day"

Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

In clear weather, sun dapples the floor of the southward-facing weyr and reflects prisms of light from the fine glass that fronts wall after wall of neatly carved bookshelves. Empty now, but for a few volumes tucked up on a shelf, clearly this weyr is a bookworm's delight, all ready to welcome someone's collection of scrolls and finely bound volumes. The living space here has been sacrificed somewhat, cozy rather than spacious. There's enough room for a table and chairs in front of a hearth overhung with a precious maple-stained skybroom mantle, but the sleeping area is another nook carved into the wall, neatly laid with a comfortable double mattress. The linens are presumably stored in the lovely trunk set just to the side of the nook, a match in stain and wood-type to the mantle. Niches for glows are well-spaced along the tops of every shelf, the glow-holders made of interlacing strips of copper set with mica to give the light a mellow cast.

All in all the space invites one to come in, curl up with a favorite drink and a book to read.

She could've picked worse moments. At least G'laer and Oliwer are not in bed. Just shy of two sevens after Hraedhyth's mating flight find Oliwer and G'laer engaged in a very usual mutual morning off from the rigors of their professional lives. G'laer's seems to be suspiciously particularly demanding just now, spending much of his time in Crom since the flight, though things at home are disturbingly normal. Disturbingly because... would Oliwer even know if something was wrong if there hadn't been a catalyst followed by sudden busy-ness? G'laer is stretched on the rug before the hearth, wearing his reading glasses and engaged in one of his many history books. It's downright peaceful. One could believe that there's never been anything but perfection between the two. But as is always the case, such moments can't last. "What? No!" It's unusual for G'laer to have dragon-directed outbursts but he has one now, and is almost immediately scrambling to his feet. "No, tell her I'm busy." And, "I don't care that she's already on her way. Tell her to turn around. She can't just come 'round whenever she sharding well pleases." There's an unusually childish timbre to G'laer's voice in all this. Then his jaw tightens. "Shards of the Red Star." Then he's looking to Oliwer, "My mother will be here in a minute," which is to say, get ready!

It's almost guaranteed that Oliwer realizes something is wrong. But has he said anything about it? Nope. He has, however, been exceedingly obliging to the greenrider in any manner of ways possible. So when G'laer has his little outburst, the healer only lifts his gaze from the book in his lap to eye the other man in mild silence. He doesn't even seem to get that worried about an impromptu drop in from the woman he's never met, though he does turn in his chair to glance in the direction of the ledge. "Do you want me to stay?"

"You have to meet her sometime," G'laer sounds frustrated, but that probably isn't related to the healer. "And there's no time, anyway," because already Teisyth is exuberantly greeting the pale, delicate green who's just landed. It might be comical to see G'laer dart to the standing mirror by the bed, and see him do a once over of pushing fingers through his hair and straightening his shirt. then, just as swiftly, he's jogging toward the ledge in time to meet the curvaceous and coiffed Gallania sways in from the ledge.

"Gallagher, don't slouch."

Was he? He straightens anyway, "Mother. We've talked about you showing up unannounced."

"Unannounced?" The woman scoffs as she pulls her hands free of her gloves and hands them off to G'laer with her riding helmet and then her jacket. This can only mean she plans to stay a while. "Be a dear and get your mother a cup of tea. And is that any way to greet your mother?" Then she's tilting her face up toward her son.

A man like G'laer should surely be able to put his foot down and not take this kind of crap, even from his own mother. But instead, there's only the grinding of teeth before he leans forward to peck her cheek and turns, cheeks red as he moves to put her things on the hooks and shelves along the wall. This, unfortunately, also accidentally abandons Oliwer to Gallania's speculative look as she approaches the healer, "You must be Oliwer," she extends her hand. "Delighted, I'm sure. I'm Gallania, but you can call me Mom." The smile she offers the not-too-much-younger man is warm.

At some point Oliwer has risen to his slippered feet to watch the interesting exchanges between mother and son, though he hangs back near his chair politely so as not to intrude on their moment. Once Gallania's attention is turned in his direction, the healer smiles with his usual pleasant warmness and, maybe surprisingly, doesn't seem particularly nervous about meeting his weyrmate's mother. "Yes, that's right." He is, indeed, Oliwer. But calling her mom? He glances in G'laer's direction for just a moment before he's saying, "It's fantastic to finally meet you. To, uh... to what do we owe the pleasure?" He feels a little awkward asking this, that's clear enough, but it does enforce the fact that they are a we and this is his home as much as G'laer's.

"A mother needs a reason to visit her Only Son?" The last two words seem to hold special significance, and G'laer, approaching from behind Gallania, rolls his eyes and mouths, 'Only Son' with distinct humor. She's here, he might as well get some laughs out of it. Only, it's probably not fair to make exaggerated expressions behind her back where only Oli can see them, because he probably shouldn't make the healer laugh just at this moment. "You, really." She does admit. "My son didn't see fit to come tell me that someone special had come into his life. So when I found out he'd up and weyrmated someone, I had to come see for myself." Still, her smile is pleasant. She settles in a chair at the table. "Now, come tell me about yourself, Oliwer, while G'laer gets our tea." It's almost like she knows he's back there being ridiculous. But then, this is a woman who birthed and raised eleven children. She probably has grown those infamous eyes in the back of her head. Her fingers snap twice and she points to the hearth where the tea kettle is. G'laer sighs, rolls his eyes one more time and sets about it. Oli is apparently on his own.

Oliwer eyes G'laer for only a moment. And while there is a noticeable, fond flicker of a smile at the mimicry going on behind Gallania, he does not laugh. He is a professional, serious sort of man, you see. "Perhaps he wanted to make sure there was something to tell," offers the healer like this seems fair. Never mind that they've been something in some regard for months and months now. Oliwer follows to the table, waiting for the woman to get settled before taking the seat across from her and glancing after the greenrider fetching tea. As for himself, he seems at some loss. He's not good at talking about himself. "I'm a healer. A journeyman. That's how we met, actually."

"Why would there be a question of that?" Some mothers are like hunting hounds for anything and everything their children would rather they didn't know.

G'laer is quick to chime in, "There isn't a question of that. We've just been busy getting settled."

"In some families, it would be considered rude to make a significant commitment to someone without introducing that person to one's parents." The meaning of her words is only too obvious.

"I didn't need your opinion when I was sixteen--" G'laer starts as he places the kettle onto it's hook and swings it over the hearth fire.

"And look how well that turned out," she interrupts.

"--and I don't need it now." G'laer finishes none the less, turning a hard look on his mother over one shoulder.

She meets it, and oh look, that's where he get's that inscrutably neutral expression from. They have a moment of stand off, then Gallania seems to cave, "Oh, fine. I just want you to include me in your life darling."

G'laer snorts. "If by include you mean meddle."

"Gallagher." There's the look made of pure guilt trip to accompany her hurt tone.

"I have ten sisters, why can't you just meddle in their lives?" He wants to know. "I'm nearly thirty, Mother." Nearly, but not quite.

"I'm close with all your sisters." The snort from G'laer must mean that's not entirely the truth, but Gallania's not about to go there, instead, "You're older than my son, aren't you, Oliwer? And your parents, what do they do?" There's that spotlight turned solidly back on the healer.

Oliwer is engrossed enough in the back in forth between G'laer and his mother that he seems a little surprised when Gallania's attention returns to him. He blinks once, glancing at the table as though it will help him answer what seems to be a simple yet uncomfortable question, given that he's already self-conscious about his age compared to G'laer's. "By a handful of turns, yes." Or more, depending on what one considers a handful. "They're healers. They teach at the Hall." Considering Oliwer's age, they're probably no spring wherries themselves.

If this weren't G'laer's mother, Oliwer might stand a ghost of a chance at reading how the greenrider is reacting to his answers. But it is. So, she simply fires off the next questions without readable reaction. "Brothers and sisters? Children? Ex-wives you hid from your parents for entirely too long?" G'laer. The male greenrider must roll his eyes at his mother again, but his back is to them, so you'd never know it. Does it really take this long to get the kettle on the fire given that it already is?

Given that this is G'laer's mother, Oliwer probably isn't expecting to have any ghost of a chance at finding reactions to his answers in her face. "No brothers, no sisters. No children." Ex-wives? Oliwer glances at G'laer, who he is sort of hiding from his parents. But, "No ex-wives."

"And you're close with your parents, would you say?" Gallania asks next. Maybe G'laer's mother should've joined the Crom guard's interrogators.

"As close as a man of my age ought to be with his parents, I suppose." Oliwer's tone is a little pointed there, though still doing his best to remain inoffensive.

"Hmm." Gallania's gaze is steady, but clearly that wasn't the right answer. "So I can't count on you to be a good influence on him. Will you at least promise me that if you two decide to adopt, you'll at least have the courtesy to tell me I'm a grandmother before they're too big to cradle?" There's a loophole there, if the were to adopt older children. G'laer almost certainly hears it. He turns then and moves to fetch three tea cups from the nearby shelves.

"You don't have to answer that," G'laer offers to Oli. It's probably mostly because they haven't had that talk yet. The one about kids.

"But it would be rude not to," Gallania adds, not missing a beat, and she lavishes another warm smile on Oliwer, one that's distinctly maternal, "And you're not a rude man, are you, Oliwer." It's not really a question. G'laer groans as he turns back to the tea kettle that's started to whistle.

Oliwer glances from mother to son and back to mother. He doesn't comment on the non-question. Maybe because the answer is obvious. "I don't see the harm in promising that." There's a 'but' in there, but Oliwer probably isn't intending for it to be picked up on.

"Good." If Gallania picked up on it, she's not letting on. Then again, maybe G'laer's attention to detail comes from his father. "We'd like you both to come by and have dinner with the family."

"No." G'laer's response is immediate, turning back toward the table and crossing his arms. It's defensive, in a way the greenrider rarely becomes.

The reason for the defense becomes obvious as Gallania's expression carefully orders itself into one of hurt. "But, Gallagher, it's been--"

"My name is G'laer and you know it. Stop disrespecting Teisyth, Mother." At least he doesn't grab his mother's shirt like he once did his son's. If anything, it sounds like this is an on-going argument he has yet to win.

"Oh, stop. You know I like Teisyth very much."

"Then use the name she gave me."

"Why can't I use the name I gave you?"

G'laer bites his tongue. There's an answer to that question, but it will only make things worse. Much, much worse.

"You want to come, don't you? The little ones would be so excited to see another face at the family table." Gallania redirects to Oliwer knowing she's scored a point in whatever kind of match-up seems to be in play between mother and son. The smile offered the healer is winning. Come into her warm maternal clutches, Oli. (Don't look at her eyes! Mother Hypnosis is a Real Thing.)

Oliwer isn't one to get into the middle of a family dispute. Though one day he might be more willing to consider himself part of said family, today isn't that day. So it's the question directed to him that he focuses on. "I don't know," he admits. "We're very busy. And you have a rather... substantial family." Compared to his little trio, anyway. "It's a bit overwhelming."

Aaand now it's Oliwer's turn to receive the maternal look of hurt. How does the man with the disappointed dad face fare against that?

He might succumb to this more easily if he didn't have a whole mother of his very own. But he does. And perhaps she's not completely unlike this one. Oliwer gives the woman, which is all she really is to him even if she is the mother of his weyrmate, a stern sort of look. "I mean no disrespect, Gallania." Nope, not calling her mom. "While I'm not opposed to meeting the rest of your lovely family, I'm only willing to do it on our terms. If he's not comfortable with it, neither am I."

That makes G'laer look over his shoulder at his weyrmate, the expression a mixture of disbelief and pride.

Gallania's frowning, of course. "Fine." She rises looking over at her son, "I won't be staying for tea." G'laer looks so upset. No really. It's under the mask of 'so don't care' if you look hard enough. And with that, she's turning and moving to snatch up her things and storm elegantly onto the ledge, mounting up onto her Faelaerith, and off they go.

G'laer's hands have found their way to cover his mouth, which is doubtlessly agape beneath, looking after his mother and then staring wide-eyed over at his lover.

Oliwer doesn't even look over at G'laer until after Gallania's out on the ledge and mounting her dragon. And when he does, he still looks rather cross. But that fades quickly when he sees the greenrider's expression, which makes him start to look less sure of himself. Maybe he's not reading it right, though. "Shells, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run her off. I just..." He glances toward the ledge again, lost for however he'd meant to finish that.

"Sorry?" G'laer starts, incredulous, letting his hand slowly fall away from his face and then he's stepping to Oliwer, pulling him up out of his chair and kissing him soundly. "That was awesome!" He declares, grinning possibly as wide as Oliwer has ever seen him. "If I'd known you could do that, I'd've introduced you to her months ago!" In this moment, "You're my hero!" The greenrider declares gleefully.

That's not the reaction Oliwer was expecting, so it's surprisingly pleasant. Granted, most things involving G'laer's lips are, like the kiss he's given, and that grin he gets. It's difficult to know what to say to any of that, he's not the best at taking compliments, so he asks with light-hearted amusement, "What did you expect to happen?"

"That we'd maybe hold out a seven. If we were very stubborn. I think you've bought us three months at least. You're spectacular, Oli." There's real admiration in G'laer's voice. For this moment, all of the awkwardness that has been because there hasn't been is forgotten. Things are perfect just now. The greenrider is still smiling wide.

He's blushing now. That admiration feels damned good, even if he's still not quite sure what to do with it. Oliwer will probably miss how perfect right now is when it goes back to the way its been. But for right now, he'll just bask in the greenrider's smile. Except something Gallania said comes back to him now for some reason, "You don't want more children, do you?"

Fortunately, G'laer is in a really good mood, otherwise this topic might get touchy fast. "I was shit at parenthood the first time." He is arguably older and wiser at this point. And that doesn't really answer the question. "Do you want children?" It's turned back on the healer. Also nevermind that since Teisyth may one day finally choose a dragon with a female rider, G'laer might have kids whether he wants them or not.

That answer, even if it isn't really an answer, seems to be enough for Oliwer. "No. I mean... I don't know. I used to think about marrying another healer, settling down and having children just to make my mother happy." Maybe that's where his trend of not making mothers happy first began. Then, "Can we still have tea?"

"You can have anything you want," G'laer answers with a bit of bounce in his voice. Oliwer's a hero. Heroes get tea. "Your favorite?" He asks as he turns to where he keeps the prepared packets of home-brewed teas, each marked carefully lest Oliwer get the special kind by accident. "Would children make you happy?"

"Mm, please." Oliwer moves to follow after G'laer, though that seems mostly unconscious. "I don't know. I like them well enough. But I've always sort of felt like I work too much. And I'm not sure I want to give that up. It's who I am, you know? I don't think I can change who I am."

"Settled then. We won't have any kids." G'laer answers easily. Evidently he didn't really want to try that again anyway. He plucks up the packet he needs and turns, but finds Oliwer there. So it only makes sense to kiss him on his way past to go back to the kettle and set it brewing. "Oh, I almost forgot. Alida wants to go hunting sometime. Down South. Is it alright that I go?"

Kisses are only distracting for a moment, but it makes him smile all the same. The easy agreement might also have something to do with it. "The one I met? With the firelizard?" He probably doesn't think there's more than one Alida. He's just not fantastic with names like that. "Of course," he says, despite a little flicker of uncertainty. "Just be careful?" Of the big felines. Not Alida. Probably.

"Mm." G'laer confirms. Then, "She wants to camp the night down there." Just in case, you know, that makes a difference.

"Oh," says Oliwer, like maybe it does make a difference. Except, hero of the moment or not, he's still not willing to go so far as to tell G'laer no. "If it's something you want to do, I don't have a problem with it." He even smiles. That means he's sincere.

G'laer is not his mother (thank Faranth), so he does pick up on that subtle something. He looks up and over at the healer. "Oli?" The jig is up, but G'laer would rather not need to point it out.

"Go. Really. And have fun. I trust you, Gal." Except after a moment, Oliwer adds, "I mean, if you were going to do something, you'd tell me, right? I think I'd want to know."

"I'm going to do something. I'm going to bow hunt and spear hunt and fish." Something. G'laer looks at the healer. "If you'd rather I didn't go, I won't." The offer sounds genuine.

Oliwer only looks at the greenrider for a moment, perhaps wondering if he's walking into something he'd rather not walk into. "No. No, it's fine." A quick smile emphasizes his decision and then he's turning to sit back down in his chair so he can watch G'laer finish with their tea from there.

Finish the tea he does. G'laer takes up both ceramic tea cups and places one carefully down at the edge of the hearth, within arm 'a reach of where he was in repose before. He's already crouched, so he shifts the short distance to kneel in front of Oliwer, offering up the cup carefully so the healer can grasp the handle. "You'll not be worrying if I go?" Which is likely another way to ask if he's sure.

"Of course I'll be worrying. But that's no reason for you not to go," says Oliwer as he accepts the mug by the handle. "Thank you." With his tea, he leans back comfortably in his chair and takes a careful sip. "You want to go, don't you?"

G'laer sits back on his heels, pursing his lips a little, brow furrowing. There's silence as he seems to consider the question that should likely have an instant response. The silence is only disturbed by the rustling of his pants as he shifts from sitting on both heels to having one knee pulled up in front of him. "No," then, "-and yes." He reaches up a hand to first push through his hair and then to scratch at his chin. "I've apparently been being a lousy friend, which I should probably mind more than I do, or at least Teisyth thinks loudly and persistently that I ought to. I've never been much of one for friends, just like I've never much been a good brother, to Ghena and the younger ones anyway. They all want me to do something I don't know how to do. Don't even know that I'd want to do it, if I did." There's a pause in which a sigh would be natural, but it doesn't come. "I ought to go is what it comes down to. I like hunting and fishing, and I don't mind camping. But shooting the shit? That only works if it's not personal. And women always want it to be personal." He's glowering a little at the chair Oliwer sits on, as if any moment it will spread its legs and reveal it's feminine identifiers.

Oliwer thinks on that for a few silent moments. Considering their relationship, the idea of G'laer not being good at personal is somewhat understandable but also slightly odd. "I think you should go. It's not for long. And maybe it will satisfy your friendship with the woman for awhile." If that's important to him, anyway, which Oliwer probably assumes is the case even if the greenrider seems less sure.

There's a long pause and then G'laer laughs, shaking his head. "Is this forever to be the way my life is from now on? Two against one?" There's a cheerful noise from the dragon sunning on the ledge that can be heard within. But his warm smile seems to be for Oliwer alone (perhaps only because Teisyth isn't within sight).

The healer smiles, too, when he hears the green on her ledge. It lingers in echo of G'laer's. "I don't mean to make it two against one. At least you can rest assured that she and I aren't doing it on purpose." Since they can't really communicate without the greenrider himself. "Maybe you just attract the sort of personality you need in your life." Sort of like him?

Well, they won't, anyway, if G'laer has anything to say about it and Teisyth is too respectful in that way to try it on her own. So far. "Sometimes I wonder." About them teaming up. "She would, if I'd let her. She's a bit too friendly for her own good, and it's harder to stop her because she likes you so much." The greenrider moves his hands to rest them on Oliwer's knees. "Could be. Things would be very different now if I hadn't met either of you." Or, really, if he hadn't met Teisyth first.

That Teisyth likes him, especially after recent events, seems to sit quite well with Oliwer indeed. He's probably all too aware that the dragon has played an important part in their relationship. "Do you ever miss it? The way things could have been?"

Recent events, psh. If it's older than three days, Teisyth must be reminded. But Oliwer doesn't need to be reminded about that. "She'd like it if you'd come sit with her when you read, on nice days. On the ledge." This is not an answer to his question, but it comes first probably because there's been mental urging to do so that G'laer is finally giving into. "Only when she's being a pain in the ass." The chuffing of draconic laughter echoes inward, her maw must be directed inward, maybe even she's using the tunnel to shield her eyes while she suns the rest of her.

"I'd like that," Oliwer says about reading on Teisyth's ledge with her, a warm smile on his face. "Well, I'm glad she found you. And that you found me." And that she's helped them stay together, no doubt. He takes another drink of his tea before setting it aside so his hands are free to cover G'laer's. "I'll admit the idea of you out and hunting is a little exciting. I almost wish I could watch you." But only almost, evidently.

"Is it?" G'laer seems both amused and intrigued by this, sliding his hands under Oliwer's to turn palm up and grip the older man's hands gently. "We could go sometime, if you like. Or we could just go down South somewhere and I'll do some target practice. Could even show you a thing or two, if you liked." Not that he expects Oliwer to want to actually hunt. But shooting targets is harmless enough, right?

"I think I'd like that, too. I've never been South. It would be nice to visit with you." And exciting, presumably. Oliwer makes no indication that he'd want to actually hunt anything. But the idea as suggested seems to sound like a good one to him. "So long as you won't want to hold everything I can't do against me. I can make it up in other ways."

"Really." G'laer cants his head to look at the healer a little strangely.

"What?" asks Oliwer, no doubt to the strange look and not being entirely sure what the comment is referring to.

"I took you South on our first date. The lagoon?" Maybe G'laer thinks Oliwer doesn't remember the day.

"Oh." Simple word as it clicks. "Well, then. It was nice to visit the South with you for the first time. Very nice. We should do that again." Oliwer remembers that day well enough to know he wants more.

"Then we will." G'laer answers decisively before moving his hands out of Oliwer's and back onto the man's knees, using them to push himself halfway up toward standing, stopping to lean forward and kiss the healer, first lightly, and then in a way that suggests the greenrider doesn't have any intention of drinking his tea while it's still warm.