Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hand Sandwich"

Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients.
About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.

Usually, Faryn skips her candidate duties for the stables or the herds, since she's still given the choice. This comes in handy for things like firestone sacking, or any task with certain people, but also works for the better when it means she's able to manipulate her schedule for good company. Today is one of the latter days, if her jaunty whistle is any indication. She's settled on an empty cot, a crate of loose bandages on a chair in front of her. There are plenty, thanks to the recent weeks' events.

Tomic's schedule has less been of his own manipulative devising, and more the work of Leova's promise, Giorda's allocation of his skills, and the requests some of the supervising nannies; Tomic's expressing a desire to spend most of his time with his kids, still, is (he thinks) minimal in all this. So today is a lottery he's won, and he's celebrating by plonking another crate of bandages down next to Faryn's chair, before ploking himself down on the edge of a cot. "There's more," he says as he tucks one leg up onto the bed, foot against his other thigh, "but I needed somewhere to put my feet."

Faryn's look for the second crate is not displeased or surprised, but certainly edges its way into unimpressed. Or maybe she's unimpressed with him taking a load off. Either way, it's not a particularly powerful emotion on her face, as she reaches for another bandage, holds it between her first and middle fingers, and begins rolling it snugly. "There's always more," she says, her smile wan. "People are still changing them every day. You can help me roll," she adds, pausing long enough to toss a bandage at him, which flutters weakly and directionlessly, "if you have to rest."

"I wasn't coming to rest," says Tomic, sounding much as he looks: a bit hurt at the assumption, even though his hands are busily tucking his ankle into place, so his foot won't slide off the bed. He hasn't quite started to lean for a bandage when one is tossed to him. It's caught, after a short bobble, both hands gathering it up into that broad chest. "I was sitting down to help." Still hurt, though, "Really," afterwards doesn't have that same sound to it.

"Oh," she says, ignoring or ignorant of his hurt. That she doesn't bring her gaze up to meet his hints that it is likely the former. "I just thought you were going to rest a second before you got the rest." Faryn's fingers are quick, with her specific roll, tucking the end away so it won't come unrolled and setting it on the bed beside her so she can retrieve a second. "You don't have to convince me," she ensures him. "I'm not your boss." Her tone is serious, but her smile is light, accompanying her teasing smile.

"I'm not," says Tomic, finding the end of the bandage, and setting to rolling. His fingers are nowhere near so fast as Faryn's, but at least he's being precise about things. "Well, not like that." Witty repartee there isn't, but he does have a bit of a slow smile and shrug for her. The roll starts to go a bit lopsided, and he has to unroll, and reset before carrying on. "I'm glad I got this one," he decides once it's going better.

Faryn's not perfect at it. Her own roll goes lopsided, but her quickness translates to unrolling as well, correcting and moving past it. "Well, good. That means we can talk." Her eyes flick to his own roll, then to his face. She can look away at least a second, without losing complete control of the task. There is silence, though. Despite her statement, she doesn't immediately dive into anything, seeming unsure of where she should start, apparently. At length, and far too casual for it to be effortless, she finally starts with, "I'm surprised you accepted when they asked you to Stand."

"Yeah," comes with one of those big smiles again. He does look over to her. He's still smiling when he turns back to the task at hand, untwisting the last bit of bandage carefully before finishing his rolling. It's time enough, between deciding to talk and talking, that Tomic's managed to go for a second bandage, leaving the one roll in between himself and Faryn on the cot. Maybe he's trusting her to know where to put it. Maybe he hasn't thought that far. "... Yeah. Me too. But the dragon was there. Like, there." A glance to her, to see if she gets that presence. "And Vey- Leova, she said if I changed my mind..." That makes him purse his lips, though. And finally start rolling the second strip of bandage.

Pinching her roll tightly with one hand, Faryn takes his finished roll and puts it with the others. "You'll have to put these away," she notes, "I can't reach the shelf." She gestures the appropriate direction. Her consideration of Tomic's retelling terminates in a low 'hmm' and a smile. Her rolling has slowed, probably because of the one roll left. "So you were surprised into it? It just wasn't what I expected. You were talking about how you wanted to go back and have a family, but this is...not that. Not the way it sounded like you wanted it."

Tomic follows her gesture to the shelf, and laugh a little. "Course I will," has very much the sound of a promise, short-term though it might be. The mention of surprise doesn't sit as well with the big guy; he bites at his lip, already shaking his head, and completely ruining this bandage roll without much seeming to realise. "It wasn't that way. They didn't sneak up on me. And I'd already been thinking about it," a glance up to Faryn, "'cause of you guys... I don't know why, for sure. I could feel her, though. The dragon." Now, he bites his lip, still rolling crookedly and still not watching what he's doing. Still watching Faryn instead. "Anyway," whispered, "I don't know if I'm going to stay."

"You're messing it up." The timing of the announcement is bad, making it sound like Faryn is talking about something bigger: Tomic's life, or his life choices, maybe. But then she reaches out with her free hand, settles it on top of his own, and squeezes, trying to stop him. The only thing worse than rolling them up is having to undo them to retry. "It's not that they're mutually exclusive, families and dragons. I don't think that's the point. There are lots of factors." More than a whisper, but still quietly, she prompts, "Would you regret leaving, though?"

It'll take a while, for that to sink in. Faryn is successful at least in that Tomic stops rolling. Whether it's a success that one of his hands shifts to go back on top of hers, hand sandwich, well, that's her call. "I guess not. But I look after lots of riders' kids... and it doesn't seem the same." And he still hasn't looked down. "I don't know," is the dull answer to his question. Now he does look down. Eventually, he might even see the roll. Who knows. "Is that why you said yes, in the end?"

The hand sandwich is successful, and she doesn't even jerk away or seem surprised when it happens. "It's not the same," admits the herder, but seems less inclined to elaborate on it. The shape of her mouth shifts, tight with some emotion that doesn't make it to her eyes except to make them briefly distant. His question pulls her back. "No. Not exactly. There were a few things. It was Azaylia, mostly. Or maybe it was Hraedhyth. She said that she would have gone between if she hadn't found Azaylia, and now, after...well, it seems true." Now the emotion in her eyes is readable, plain sadness at the loss. "By the time K'zin asked, though, I think I was just fed up with having to think about it. And what's left to lose? At least I'm there, with you guys, even if some of us don't Impress."

"Azaylia," repeats Tomic, somber, though in a sort of reflected way. Then, "Wait." And his eyes are a bit more alert when he looks away from the hand sandwich and straight at Faryn again. "You mean dragons can go between," he almost uses the term like a native, "even right when they're hatched?" That big head shakes, again. "That's part of why I was thinking of leaving you know. I mean, the newest part. 'Cause of how her gold - and then how they all screamed like that." The last a whisper, again. He the top of the sandwich a bit.

"Way I've always heard it, yes. My mum saw it, once or twice. That's why they get so many candidates. But, also," and this is more optimistic, in its own strange way, "K'zin said that if you're there, and there's a dragon that you would Impress, it can happen anyways. There was that heir who Impressed, a while ago, in the Stands. Do you remember? And if you avoid it by being completely away...." Poof. Faryn shudders in recollection of the sound, her throat working. The hair on her arms is up. "It doesn't matter, is the point. If they want you, they'll take you, whether you're down on the Sands or in the galleries. It just seemed foolish, and all that has changed is where my bed is and this." She flicks her white knot, the one sharing a shoulder with her beastcrafter's knot.

"Mmmmf," says Tomic, shifting, uncomfortable, the top hand coming off now, to help him sit farther back on the cot while he brings the second leg up. But the bottom hand? Its fingers relax, and even if it doesn't move away from Faryn's, it lets go of the roll. That drops and unravels. Now, Tomic sees it, but he doesn't bother scooching forward to retrieve it just yet. Just watches. "I wouldn't know what to do with a dragon, either. Kids depend on you too, but I know kids."

His withdrawal is good enough for Faryn to take her own hand back, gently, so she can pick up the clean bandage, settle it on the cot between them where it is unlikely to get dirty, and then start rolling the one she's had secured between her fingers, if for no other reason than to get it out of the way. "Every kid is different," she offers. "Maybe they're just like big damned kids, and you get to watch them grow instead." The bandage roll joins the pile, leaving her to contemplate his unravelled one, or the one in the crate. She takes the latter, but this time just settles it on her lap. "And my understanding is that Quinlys is supposed to help us know dragons, if it becomes necessary. It's probably not too much different than being thrown into parenthood. You think you know, until the baby has...I don't know, colic, and is crying all night? It's different when you can send them home to someone else."

Tomic stretches out the fingers of both hands, splaying them wide before clenching them tight, and then letting them each rest, the one on the cot itself, the other on his knee, more or less. "I... that's not even it. I don't know. I didn't know they could just die, though." He rubs his thumb and finger together, on the hand nearer Faryn and that roll. Then, he takes the roll itself, hunches forward, and starts to re-work it. This time, with care. "And dragons keep looking at me, too." His eyebrows scrunch together. "What was it like, having a mom for a dragonrider?"

Faryn's betrayed for a moment when her fingers slow, and she has to readjust. She's looking at them very intently, though, when she answers. "I don't know. She wasn't there. Like having a pretty cool auntie?" That sits, and she seems to be looking for something that's redeeming, eventually settling on, "But she knew she couldn't take care of me, and she was Weyrsecond then. Or Weyrlingmaster? I don't remember, I was little. It doesn't matter, because I don't think she would have been a good mom without Sulizath." The herder's biting off her words with emphasis, shaking her head though it's a bit unclear when she started doing that. "But I had a family, Tomic, don't get me wrong. My dad and my brothers and sisters. The only difference was that sometimes I she would appear for a holiday or my Turnday. And that was her choice."

It wasn't quite what Tomic was hoping to hear, though the disappointment is only visible at the start. After that, he's more intent on the herder herself, even as represented in a story about a Weyrsecond. Or Weyrlingmaster. Or whatever. "I never really thought about it that way," comes well after she's done, after he's considered her, with the bandage having come to rest for quite some time now. "You just end up wherever you do, don't you. And that's what you have."

"But at least there's the illusion of control," comes the herder's dry response. Now that she's spilled her guts some, she's reserved again, unrolling the messed up bandage she's got in hand and restarting again, carefully. "Part of that was agreeing to Stand. If it is going to happen, I want to feel like it's my choice, at least some." Softer, "And if not, then I can pretend I have control over something else."

Illusions of control don't sit all that comfortably with Tomic. He looks again to the bandage, and finishes rolling it in silence, brow knit with the effort of thinking up a response. What he comes up with: "Coming to the Weyr was my choice, I guess. I told my uncle I would. And I'm not going to leave if a baby dragon could die. So that's a choice too. Choice two." A slow grin. He finishes up that bandage, faster than the first, if still not near Faryn speed. That roll is set aside.

Faryns eyebrows raise, her expression wan. Now that she's focusing, on her fingers or her thoughts, her rolling is slower. He's in the big leagues! "Yeah," she says, reluctant to agree. "Choices we're making because we're being blackmailed by dragons we don't even know exist. Little extortionists, not even out of the shell." She clicks her tongue, then rolls her eyes and asks, "My choice, for now, is to hope for something different. Extraordinary is what K'zin said. If I think about it that way, it's not so hard to wonder if I'm making the right decision."

Tomic nods a little bit, smiling, for once more or less to himself. "Leova," there's a slight heaviness to the dragonrider's name - her real name, not her name by association to kids - "said something like that. That she and her dragon thought I was more than I seemed like or something." He shrugs, and then it's one of the usual, a smile for the one he's with. "I don't really know what that means. But," and he tilts his head, "dragons keep looking at me, so. And I'm pretty sure the dragons in the eggs exist, or there wouldn't be eggs."

"They exist, but we don't know if any of them are for us," Faryn clarifies helpfully, but she winds up smiling, too, because they're contagious. "So you'll stay, then." Statement, though her voice raises slightly at the end, almost making it a question. "That way I have someone to hide behind on the day? I figure you might be big enough to ward them off, and less likely to move away than some other people." Roll: finished, tied, set aside, and their crate is empty now.

"Yeah," Tomic agrees, "so far dragons haven't made me run away. Just stop in my tracks. Don't know if I'd be able to move if I wanted to." He eyes that crate, and starts to shift forward, readying himself for swapping it out with a full one. "Besides. The kids are all excited about it." He looks at her hands, her empty hands, but when his fingers press, it's just to the cot, to heave himself up. "After this, if you got free time, we should go see your runners." But for now, he's set to amble his way back to work.

"Well, that's a start, then. You block them, I'll throw rocks. If it gets dire, that is. They probably won't. All this planning for nothing." Faryn's huff is dramatic and not at all serious. "I'd like that," she says. "I'll even go back and grab the cards, if you want." She's patting her pockets experimentally, probably looking for the deck, but she comes up empty. "We don't have much more, either. We can roll fast."

And they do.