Difference between revisions of "Logs:Uninterrupted"

The children are in bed, and the pregnancy-danger-zone is passed (and hasn't Madilla been incredibly lucky that her counting really has proven to be efficient birth control for once?), and surely it's no wonder that the adults have also retreated to bed. Now, flushed and content, Madilla has one leg slung over H'kon's, one arm over his chest, and hair that is determined to escape the careful coils that had been keeping it tidily out of the way. She's content enough not to speak; for the moment, it's enough to simply lay here, and enjoy the quiet.

H'kon has one arm back beneath his head (a makeshift pillow, since his has since disappeared off the side of the bed), the other laid over Madilla's, parallel, with fingers grasping lightly just shy of her elbow. Now his breathing has slowed, he rolls his head to one side, expression serious for a moment... and then, when the study he'd started of her moves from her face to her hair, a side-pulling smile. "I still like your hair."

That comment draws the corners of Madilla's smile higher still, amusement playing in the way it twitches, just slightly. "I'm so glad," she says, which is half-tease, half genuine affection. Her own head is side-on, her pillow shoved mostly out of the way, except for where her head leans half-on and half-off of it. "If that ever changes..." That's definitely a tease.

"That," says H'kon, softly, teased or not, "will not change." It's enough to prompt a reach across, his arm leaving hers, for a meticulous attempt at getting at least one strand of that hair to lie a bit flatter. Then, "A shame, that she doesn't sleep so soon more often, hmm?" And that is a far more playful look from the dragonrider, to accompany the observation.

Madilla can only look even more pleased for that remark, and for the attempt to adjust her hair. "Mmm," is heavily-laden with humour. "I'm convinced children have an innate sense for picking which nights they don't intend to sleep on. But she seemed worn out, tonight." Which can only be a good thing with her parents! "I still feel bad for not being home sooner."

"Their timing with yours has been impeccable." He nearly rolls his eyes. Nearly. "We might need a second attempt. To make up the time." And then, the magic of having children, barely before his hand has had the time to transition from hair-fixing to a still-lighthearted caress, it pauses, and H'kon goes from propositioner to parent. "Ah. We had quite the outing, after my sweeps."

This is maybe not a good deal; Madilla may prefer the propositioner, right now, to the parent. And yet, she is a parent, and that pause, that digression, draws her attention. "Did you now?" It prompts for more, accompanied as it is by a raise of her eyebrow that, in and of itself, may be partial proposition. Hopefully that doesn't count as inappropriate.

Surely it's for the best. A slightly better rested H'kon... "Mmm. She found her way all the way to the stables." His hand has found its motion again, but, for now, for the topic, it's a fairly tame trace along his weyrmate's side, half thoughtful. "To a puppy. Who wants to stay with her." Quickly amended, "Us."

Yes, but... Madilla's fingers, too, curl against H'kon's chest, idly, as she listens, although they stop rather dramatically at mention of puppy. "A puppy?" she repeats, brow crinkling in surprise. "But..." But it's not as though they live in a sky weyr, is it, and so she hesitates. "I imagine she's overjoyed with it, isn't she."

"More..." and for her fingers stopping, his press a bit more against her skin, "intent, I'd say. On the idea, at least. As to the puppy itself, yes. Even," H'kon's eyes widen, faintly, affectionately, "when it was trying to chew her hand."

Madilla takes that press as encouragement, fingers curling back into action. "Mm," she says. "'intent.' That does sound like Raija." She exhales, green eyes seeking for H'kon's. She adds, then, "We always had dogs, when I was a child. They were working dogs, though. Not to be played with. You don't see all that many dogs, here. But then... there's no work for them, is there."

"Hmm." It could be agreement for the words. It could, likewise, be encouragement for the fingers. "We did not. There were some, of course, but never ours. I'd asked my father, once... and he reminded me I had a sister to care for." Having reached her hip, his hand starts tracking back up. Consistent, not yet persistent. Puppies, after all.

Puppies. Puppies, which are not like caresses, though both can be distracting. Madilla pauses before her verbal response, as if to focus her own thoughts upon her own hand-- but then, refocusing, "A sister's not the same as a puppy. And Raija... she's no one to care for." Clearly she needs a puppy or a sister, stat.

As fingers and caresses continue, H'kon might - immediately, at least - prove far more interested in working toward one than the other. He allows his eyes to drift down to his hand, then along Madilla herself. It's a moment before his gaze is back up to hers, and the brownrider takes a breath, his own refocusing form of refocusing. "No..." And now, a moment, his hand is still again. "But to care for someone, or something... when she still seems angry, hurt?"

Madilla closes her eyes, which is surely so that she can give the topic due consideration, and not at all because she, yet again, needs to refocus her attention. On an exhale, as she opens those eyes again, "Mm. It could go either way. It could be... someone else who joined the family the way she did. Someone to care for. Or..." She frowns. It could go terribly, terribly wrong.

"They seemed young." H'kon has yet to resume his own motions. "The puppies. Still nursing..." There is time. There is also, soon enough, a pair of green eyes well focused on Madilla. "There is much to consider. But I'd told her we would visit them with their mother again." Fingers twitch, somehow conscious of what, to H'kon at least, seems an exit point from these considerations for the time being.

"Visiting," decides Madilla, "cannot hurt anything. Perhaps the desire will vanish before they're old enough to leave the mother." Or perhaps not. Either way, Madilla, too, seems to see that as an easy exit; she shifts her body, ever so slightly, fingers taking up a more active approach to matters. New priority: engaged.

H'kon nods his agreement. The final word on the matter from the brownrider: "Come with us, next time." Settled. He answers her shift with his own. A much easier refocus, this one. After all, there's time to be made up.