Difference between revisions of "Logs:Brother"

It's hardly unusual to find C'stian at the dragon infirmary, regardless of circumstances, but he's definitely spent more of his free time here of late than he had been since his appointment to wingsecond. It's an easy routine to lose himself in: checking on supplies, dealing with the minor injuries that come from hunting and chasing, and otherwise making certain everyone's healthy. On good days, the tension melts away and he stops paying quite such close attention to who else is present beyond those necessary to his task. Days such as today, when his attention is firmly on a young blue. "No," he assures the fretful weyrling who hovers near his lifemate, "it's nothing serious. Just leave the bandage on so he doesn't itch at it while it heals."

Outside the dragon infirmary, and somewhere along the caverns beyond it, there is a chain of people who have all been asked the same question: where is C'stian? And that chain has finally brought a nine turn old girl through from the human infirmary and into the one for the dragon half of the Weyr's population. She's about average height for her age, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders today, and there's not much mistaking her for anyone but the Weyrwoman's daughter, given how similar they look. Nimarie doesn't waste time; doesn't bother with preamble. "Are you C'stian?" she calls from across the room.

"I am. I'll be done in a moment," the bronzerider calls back, not yet turning to see who's calling for him. He finishes assuring the young bluerider that no, his blue lifemate doesn't actually need an entire wherry right this instant no matter how much he pours on the drama over being injured, and dismisses the two. Then he turns his attention towards the voice, and his expression goes from 'polite Healer neutral' to something frozen and harder to read. He has no idea why Hattie's daughter is here looking for him, but he's abruptly wary of finding out.

It doesn't look like Nimarie is going to wait for that moment, as she begins to march across the room and towards C'stian before the blue and his rider are dismissed, though she keeps a reasonably appropriate distance between herself and her target. Undeterred by his expression, she tilts her head up, jutting her chin out, and gives him a slightly imperious onceover that looks like it's been learned or observed from her mother. "Is is true?" she asks him expectantly. She doesn't wait for an answer, clarifying her own enquiry. "They're saying that my daddy is yours too. Some of them think I don't listen."

"They..." C'stian seems suddenly at a loss for words; having never had siblings, it never really struck him until this moment that the girl marching across the infirmary is, technically, his sister. Now it's his turn to study Nimarie in return, looking her over as if trying to figure out precisely how he's supposed to feel about that. After a moment, he nods once. "Yes. I guess he is."

"You guess or you know?" Nimarie immediately wants to know, her eyes narrowing as she studies him further. "Because there's Nehmet too and I'm not going to go back to him with 'I guess he's our brother'." Hands lift to rest on almost non-existent hips, her gaze steady and unwavering, as if she's got this far and it means absolutely no backing down now. Except then a glimmer of something else passes across her features and she adds, "I'm Nimarie," with a little grimace, like she's disappointed in herself.

Oh, Shards. She's not the only one, that's right. "He is. Though I didn't know," C'stian clarifies. The little girl's so-determined mannerisms earn a hint of a smile, despite the bronzerider's dark mood of late. After all, he can't take out his frustration on a nine-year-old girl. "I'm C'stian, rider of bronze Liesanth. Though you already figured that part out."

Nimarie gives a tiny nod, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "I had to ask," she tells him, half proud and half irritated. "A lot. Not Mum or Dad though, so you can't get angry with them." She declares that like it's an obvious, unwritten rule, made up or not. "And Nehmet's little. He won't understand it all." She lifts her chin again, either trying to be taller or just not lumped in with little. "We have other brothers and sisters. They're all older than us." And then she gets to the heart of the matter: "Do you want to be our brother?"

How do you answer that question? Even if C'stian is angry at N'muir -- and to be fair, his mother as well -- there's no way you tell a little girl you don't want her as a sister, or her little brother as your brother? "I'd be happy to. But I've never been a brother before," the bronzerider finally admits, some of the dark mood of late vanishing as he offers the little girl a somewhat embarrassed grin. "I don't know if I'll be any good at it."

Tensed for rejection, Nimarie continues to look stubbornly up at him even after it becomes clear that she's not being told to leave him alone. "...Well..." she says, giving an awkward roll of her shoulders as she climbs down from defensive, "I was the baby until Nehmet. And Dad's only one. If I can figure out how to share and be a big sister, I guess you can figure out how to be a brother."

"Hrm." The bronzerider considers this for a long moment, before finally turning back to Nimarie. "That seems reasonable enough. I might need help, though. But you've figured it out, so maybe you'll be able to help teach me, right?" C'stian stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants -- there's bits of cotton fluff from the bandages and such clinging there -- before offering his hand to Nimarie. Like making a pact.

Nimarie eyes that hand a little warily for a moment or two, then sets her smaller hand in his and gives it a solid shake before retreating again. "...First thing," she tells him, looking him up and down again, "you don't let anyone make fun of your brothers and sisters." Another stare, waiting to see how that sits, then: "I like kitties." She makes an odd sort of bobbing motion towards him. "Now you tell me something you like."

The bronzerider nods gravely, seemingly taking this 'don't let anyone make fun of your siblings' part seriously. "I like drawing. I have whole books of drawings I've done -- sometimes just leaves and things for healing, but sometimes other people around the Weyr -- and I painted the walls of our weyr with pictures of dragons flying. Because Liesanth liked that idea."

"Drawing is fun," Nimarie soberly agrees. "I used to do a lot of it. I don't know if I was any good though." Her hands twist together in-front of her before she dares to suggest, "I think Nehmet would like to meet Liesanth. After he's met you, I mean." That brings back her awkwardness (logistics not thought through?) until she remembers how grown-up she's supposed to be and draws herself back up to her full height. "I should go tell him. You know, that you're our brother and all."

"I'd love to see some of your drawings sometime," C'stian offers to Nimarie. Because, well, that's what you're supposed to do with little sisters, right? He's still winging this here. "And you probably should. I know Liesanth would like to meet Nehmet, too, but he has to know about things first, right? Nehmet, I mean." Presumably Liesanth already knows.

"We could share," Nimarie proposes with another shrug, not yet secure enough to reach out without making it seem like the answer doesn't really matter, in-case she's batted back. "You could show me some of yours." Bit by bit, she begins to turn back the way she came. "I'll go talk to him." It's not until she's by the entryway that she pauses and offers, "I guess it won't be so bad to share them with you too." Nehmet and N'muir, presumably. "Bye, C'stian." And then she's gone.

The bronzerider stands there for a moment longer, trying to figure out precisely how he feels about what just happened. It was easy to be angry at N'muir and Calia in the abstract, but faced with a little sister... the sitation becomes a bit more complex. Finally, C'stian shakes his head and moves to the exit to find his lifemate. He has some thinking to do...