Difference between revisions of "Logs:Necessary Hypotheticals"

Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia.

Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy.

Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries.

Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced.

Days. It has been days since Azaylia had rushed home from the council chambers. By the time Bones had found her, she had cried herself hoarse and was curled up, hiccuping, between Hraedhyth's forelimbs. The days that followed were spent either curled up against the ex-convict's chest, or throwing herself into her hidework until sleep claimed her. There's still a Turnover celebration to plan. Socializing when she can manage to put on a brave face, her egg-heavy gold offers the perfect excuse to come rushing back home when it all becomes too much to think about. There's the sound of slow, dragging footsteps climbing the stairs with in no particular hurry. Finally, the wilted weyrwoman is visible, clutching work to her chest with an unfocused stare, moving towards her desk out of habit.

Her irremovable roommate is there waiting for her return, right where she has learned by now to expect him. The couch. Bones' sleep schedule isn't so much centered around set times of consciousness and rest, but a series of random naps ranging from one to three hours each. This brief bout of sleep must have been nearing it's natural end, as he begins the slow process of rousing the moment she enters the door. "Mmph." A grunted admission of consciousness, even though he looked anything but in his current pose. Laid out on his back, dreads cover every part of his face but mouth, eyes closed and arm hanging down to the stone floor nearby. "Home sweet home?" A question as to whether she was in for the night, spoken just before a wide-mouthed yawn that saw his tongue briefly leaving his mouth. Like a dog's yawn.

There's no reply from Azaylia's desk, and it's possible that she hasn't even heard him. Hides and papers are organized, half-lidded gaze barely bothering to look during her mechanical actions. Only when she's left with empty hands do brown eyes drift down to look at where they're splayed on the table, the same lack of expression worn on her sagging face. She doesn't look as though she's planning on moving, so lost in her thoughts. Lost in general.

Bones is still and silent for a few seconds, as if he's fallen entirely back to sleep in the short time between her walking in and heading to her desk. The quiet of her weyr doesn't last, the big man giving a sigh as he tosses his legs to the side and brings himself up to a sitting position right at the couch's edge. "You still feel like shit, huh?" He's awake, he's just letting his tired muscles catch up to his brain. "You wanna talk about it?" The few moments he takes sitting are interrupted by another sudden burst of motion, standing up and stretching long arms up as high as he can, stifling himself to a small grunt. "Probably not, eh?"

This time, her eyes lift to find the big man as he continues to address her. His first question earns him a slow nod, one that barely has enough movement to be called such. The second has her lips parting, as if she does want to talk about it. Bones will be able to recognize the warning signs, lips leading her whole body into a tremble. She shakes her head hard enough to have her loose curls whipping this way and that as she rushes towards him. There's not enough left in her after a day of pretending to knock him over, but she still collides quite solidly with his chest. With both hands and face pressed against his chest, she's still painfully quiet, even as her shoulders begin to shake.

He's caught off guard by her sudden rush, forgetting how the girl so soft on the inside had quite the strong shell built around her. "Oof!" Comes the little sound at her knocking just a bit of wind out of him, and despite her melancholy he smiles slightly at her strength. Inked arms wrap around her, thankfully warm to the touch. "I know I know, it's all just super shitty." Vague, yet accurate. "It's okay, I got you."

Azaylia remains silent until he speaks, giving a sudden shake of her head against his chest as her soft sobbing becomes audible. "I can't." Comes the hoarse whisper, "I can't. I-I'm trying. I can't. Everything I do... How do I know I'm doing anything right?" Her fingers curl against the leather of his vest, holding tight as her legs threaten to lose what little strength they have. "I'm... I'm so useless." It's unclear whether she means because of her current state, or in general.

As Azaylia falters, Bones is quick to tighten his grip, familiar enough with her limits to keep from crushing her flat, yet keep her on her feet. "C'mon now Zee, you're talking crazy talk here." A rough hand rubs at the middle of her back as he gives a soft sigh, familiar by now with her crippling self doubt, but feeling an empathetic ache for the girl. "Just focus on your breathing for a second okay? Big deep breaths for me. C'mon." He knows well enough that the advice is difficult to follow, but he works on slowly guiding her back towards the couch regardless if she's capable of following it or not. She needed to sit down for this. "Y'aint useless. You're just freaking out. And that's okay, okay? Okay!"

It's hard to calm her breath, plagued by hiccups and forced hitches as Azaylia struggles to control herself. Her inability to hold back only upsets the goldrider further... it's a vicious cycle. Wet eyes take a chance to glance up at Bones, using him as something to focus on as she manages to stop crying after a good while. During which, she's led to the couch and all but crawls atop the man, her desperation for non-draconic comfort obvious in how forceful she is. "It's not okay." She manages to murmur. She uses her palms to wipe her face clean, nevermind the risk that she might burst into more tears. It's obviously not her intention, "She's right. She's right about everything. I'm not s-strong enough... I'll never... I can't..." The more she speaks, the more her body begins to tense up, preparing for another emotional onslaught.

It's as a very specific she is mentioned that Bones sighs again, this one a little less out of sympathy, and instead with a touch of bass from his chest that signifies obvious frustration. "Brieli..." he mumbles. The squeeze around her grows a bit tighter, sensing the upcoming onslaught of sobs, and making it no secret he intends to hold them off. "Zee, look at me. C'mon, eyes up here kiddo." Condescending, but appropriate considering the girl's mere twenty two turns compared to his own thirty six. Two thick fingers tuck underneath her chin as he speaks, encouraging her gaze to lift, greeting her with a soft smile. "Just ask yourself this question okay? For me. Just look deep down in here.." he taps gently her sternum with a single finger before continuing. "... and ask yourself the truth. Why do you care so much what one woman thinks of you, eh? Best friend or not, she's just one chick, ain't she?"

Azaylia doesn't fight against his fingers, looking for a distraction- any distraction. Bones' hairy mug will do, and she blinks those big brown puddles up at him before giving a sniff. "I'll try..." She mouths, just enough sound leaving her lips for him to hear. If she's to look deep down, he can't be expecting her to answer all that quickly. Her body slumps forward, resting her head atop his shoulder, closing her eyes in an attempt to go over the words said and how she's feeling without another outburst. Just when it might seem like she's fallen asleep on him, "Because... if she's right," As Azaylia believes her to be, "Then I'm worse than I thought. That I... I'm doing what I can. I thought I was, maybe not doing well but... better. I can't trust myself to know anymore." The whimper that follows is one of fear, "I'm hurting my home, and I don't know how to stop."

"But what if she ain't right?" Bones presents an alternative that he's fairly certain Azaylia hasn't pondered too much up to that point. "What would that mean eh? What if she's wrong about you. Think on that for a few, because I'm guessin' you don't often ponder the good parts of you these days." He's quiet for a moment, hand gently petting the hair at he back of her head as she rests on his shoulder. "I don't wanna speak bad about your friend, but think back. Don'tcha think it's kinda weird how she only snapped at you when you took a stand? Only when you disagreed with her? And then, what's she unload on you? She tells you that you're not strong enough to lead. Seems to me like she wants you weak only when it's convenient to her." There's a balance between trying to be comforting with Azaylia, while venting some of his own frustrations with his perceived flaws in Brieli's logic.

"No one is that..." Azaylia starts right away, before her words fade to a pensive silence. She doesn't know. What if Brieli isn't right? "Everything she said was true, though. That I get too upset. That I'm weak- I had to work so hard to keep Hraedhyth calm." Memory of the effort has her screwing her eyes shut. "I love this Weyr. The people in it." Yes, maybe even a certain brownrider who just has that face. As Bones explains his point of view, the weyrwoman pulls her head back in order to look up at the man. "Oh, Bones." A weary sigh, face falling into something far more defeated. "No one is that cruel." Even now, she has to believe that. "We're supposed to be there for each other. And all I can think about is me. And how I feel." More of what stings the most being regurgitated, "I'm being selfish. Again."

Bones' attempt to funnel Azaylia's self-loathing into at least mild suspicion falls flat on its face. Once again, his roommate manages to put all the blame squarely on her own shoulders. "I ain't saying she's cruel. I was just saying she had too much shit building up and she blew her stack something fiercer than she meant to." He has nothing but theories about Brieli, but he is honest in his guesswork. "Zee, you got a damn good heart. But Bree telling you that you're too scared to use it is kinda one them uhh.. self-fulfilling..." he had heard the term once and tried to commit it to memory, but it was fuzzy around the edges. Damn. "She's making her own stuff true, know what I mean? If y'could just stop thinking about them nasty words for just a few, then they wouldn't be true anymore. Y'could get some shit done."

It's rare that the holdbred farmgal has a better grasp of vocabulary, and she suggests gently, "Self fulfilling prophecy." As for what he means to imply with such a term, "I guess..." Azaylia allows, not that she isn't mulling over his words a little while longer. "I don't know why, then. I must have done something..." He's right. She knows he's right. It's enough to coax another whimper, one with just enough frustration to drop an octave at the end, "I know. I... that's what I'm trying to do. I stop thinking about it all for a little while, and then all of a sudden..." Nightly cries on Bones' chest. "There's Turnover." She mumbles, "But after, I don't know what I can do. I'm scared of making things worse." A fear so great it leaves her with little options.

The grungy gardener continues to idly pet her hair, while free hand drifts down her back to sit lightly at her hip. There's been enough close clutching, now he wants to create just enough distance so he can consistently look her in the face. "If you're scared of making things worse, then start with stuff that feels safe eh? You don't gotta rebuild the whole damn Weyr from the ground up just to feel like you've done something good." The hand that had been petting at her hair moves to the corner of her eyes, a roughly calloused thumb clearing away a bit of half-leaked tears as best he can. "Baby steps eh? Maybe help an old lady carry her things?"

Whether Azaylia's aware of it or not, her hair being stroked certainly helps in keeping her composure as she considers what's being said. "Starting small..." Her lower lip is gnawed on, words slipping from around her working teeth, "The Weyr doesn't need small right now. With everything that's going on..." Then again, what's the alternative? Not productive, that's what. "I suppose small is better than just... hiding." She reaches up to brush at the skin after his thumb, managing a weak, uncertain smile. "I'm sorry. You've never cared about all of this. I shouldn't have bothered you with it." Her arms wrap around his neck, the squeeze pitiful compared to ones given at the height of her happiness. "You're a good friend, Bones." And possibly, the only one she knows without ulterior motives. Possibly.

Bones simply listens as his words are pondered by the girl aloud, merely thankful to no longer hear her hiccup and struggle with her breath. Her hug helps seal a small sense of accomplishment in him, giving a soft laugh as he squeezes her in for a tight embrace. "Yeah yeah, friend schmend. I'm just earning my couch, hehe." He downplays his efforts, even as he plants in a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Just try and relax eh? Y'know what? You should hit up the Snowasis and find yourself a strapping young dude to take out your frustrations on." He slowly lifts up from the couch now, giving another stretch of arms above his head. "With sex." Thanks for clarifying, Bones. "But I gotta head back to the greenhouse. I've got one of them job things, member?"

"That's... an idea." With how hesitant Azaylia sounds, it's not a very good one. It just proves how bad she's feeling, despite his efforts. "I don't think I could force my company on anyone. That wouldn't be fair." With an exception to Bones. But he's not real people! She is slow in sliding into the warm dip he's left in the couch, legs tucking up underneath her. "Maybe I'll go for a run... when it's light out again." Too cold and too dark, otherwise. For the moment, she'll simply look exhausted, "Have a good night at work." With his self-imposed evening shifts, and all.

The big man can't help but smile as she takes his mocking suggestion at least somewhat serious. "Or running, sure. Whatever gets your heart rate up." More stretching follows, a short but versatile routine of touching toes and arching back to ensure every part of him is ready for manual labor. It's important to make sure he didn't sleep on anything wrong. "I will. And hey, if you ever wanna drop in and say hi? Doors are always open, okay kiddo?" He fires a wink at her, and then sets out to collect his heavy coat left in a heap by the door. "Feel better." That's his last request as he heads out to work, confident that Azaylia will, in time, do just that.