Difference between revisions of "Logs:Patience"

The Weyrlingmaster's knot tends to be one that comes with lunch at odd hours or on the go. Today, Ebeny has managed to keep it from being the latter, but she's still not managed to grab lunch at the usual time, and so she sits in a patch of dry sand at the shore of the lake rather mechanically spooning down a bowl of stew brought from the caverns and into the spring chill of the bowl. There aren't that many people about, most riders having bathed their dragons earlier or elsewhere, and so she's found a small bubble of quiet to settle down in, her focus distant and shoulders hunched.

The combination of Suraieth's wing and N'dalis' leg have left that particular weyrling pair rather more behind than most of their clutchmates, something that both seem quietly stoic about. Now, the little green is exploring her way across the lake shore: a study in short, sharp, /deliberate/ movement. Dal is rather slower, of course, hobbling along on the crutches that he's nonetheless become relatively proficient with. "Su," he calls. "Please don't go into the water. Not today." He hasn't noticed Ebeny; nor has Suraieth, it seems.

It's not so difficult to notice Suraieth, not when she moves as sharply as she is at present. Ben watches the young green's progress with an unreadable expression, committing herself to no remark or another about what she's doing or whether she will or won't listen to N'dalis, until some inner instinct must demand that she say something nevertheless. Her sigh is shallow, her half-empty bowl set down beside her in a cradle of sand as she squares her shoulders and calls, "Suraieth, listen to your rider, please."

Suraieth turns - oh, so deliberate, so intense. She considers Ebeny, dropping into a crouch and then, sitting absolutely still to do so. "Thank you," says N'dalis, hurrying to catch up, so that he can put one hand upon his dragon's head in a way that is possessive... and also reassuring. /His/ glance at Ebeny is more likely to catch the stew bowl, and his cheeks shade dark in response. "I'm sorry, Weyrlingmaster. I don't mean to interrupt your lunch. Please - ignore us. She'll listen."

Undaunted by the deliberate nature of Suraieth's response to her request, Ben regards her in turn and then offers out a hand in her direction for her to investigate or ignore as is her prerogative. She shakes her head the moment that N'dalis starts in on his apology, admitting, "I'm not really interested in it anyway." Like she could prove that, she moves the bowl to sit someway behind her instead, just so that she doesn't have to look at it. "...I'd invite you to sit, but... how awkward would that be for you? I don't much fancy leaving you stranded." And then: "You want a hand?" Maybe the one she's not offering his green, if she's to be interpreted literally.

'Investigate' is the order of the day, and Suraieth does so with pleasure... if 'pleasure' is usually so very slow and deliberate, of course. "Sitting's awkward," admits her rider, with a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze having followed Ebeny's bowl and now returned towards her more directly. "I don't mind standing. It's nice to be mobile again, in as much as I am, anyway. I'm taking comfort in the fact that the bones weren't completely crushed."

Slow and deliberate is probably best for the both of them, given that it's the hand belonging to her broken wrist, cast and all, that Ben's offered to Suraieth. She doesn't flinch away from the weyrling green's investigation, but rather curves her fingers to fit nose or jaw with the intent of delivering an affectionate smoothing of fingertips against hide. "To let you walk, they can't be afraid of you inadvertently doing more damage," she says quietly, tipping her head back to look up at him. "There's no rush with anything, you know. You all get there when you get there. It being before or after anyone else doesn't matter."

Suraieth is, at least, used to the need for care when it comes to casts, and though she rubs her face up against the plaster for a moment, she seems otherwise pleased to let Ebeny use her fingers, instead. Good. /Better/. Just like that. N'dalis' expression is even enough, his nod sure. "No, no, I know. I don't mind that it will take time. The last thing I want is for Su's injury to be made worse by us pushing too hard; I know you'd never let that happen, but still. We can be patient. The only place I'm eager to go is Fort Hold, but there's no reason why my parents can't bring my boy here, instead."

A more peaceful sense of calm seems to descend on Ben as she keeps gentle fingers running over the line of Suraieth's muzzle and just beneath her jaw; certainly it's a far cry from the cold distance of her absent study of the lake. "I could ask one of my old wingmates to collect them from the Hold one day, if you like?" she offers. "I'm not sure how /long/ a visit is wise, since... well, being possessive of their rider eases after different lengths for different pairs, but it's something to consider. I've no object to it, though." Though her focus is mostly on Suraieth, she peers beyond her, to the lake, for just a moment. "Given it's unlikely she'll fly at the same time as the others, I think the time that'd be spent there would be best spent strengthening her other limbs, to give her a greater steadiness for landings and take-offs."

Quietly, "I'd like that, thank you. It's been - I saw him after the hatching, but only very briefly. I just don't want him to feel I've abandoned him." Something in N'dalis' tone suggests he feels guilt, but he sucks in a breath, sets his jaw, and forcibly eases it off. By the time he adds, "That seems reasonable. It's nice to know there are things we can do, in the meantime - so we're not just waiting. I think that will help us both feel more focused."

"I have kids of my own," Ben replies in a murmur, giving a final smooth over Suraieth's nose. "I can't imagine what it'd be like if someone said I couldn't see them for months." She tilts her head, angling a look up at N'dalis as she enquires, "Are you going to bring him to the Weyr once you've graduated?" Her study of his lifemate becomes a little more focused, attention moving to evaluate the state of limbs and paws with a speculative air. "Swimming would help, if she would keep her wings tightly shut. Running too, though not many of them seem take to that."

Suraieth huffs out some warm, meaty breath for Ben (it's like a present!), and then retreats, mostly so that she can pick herself up and begin padding, idly, along the shoreline. "I made the choice," says Dal, quietly. "And it was the right choice for /me/, I think. Just not necessarily for /him/. I'd - like to. My parents aren't happy about it, but I think they'll get used to it. Even with a dragon... I'd like him /here/. She likes swimming." It's an abrupt subject change, but one that seems to please him, even if he doesn't smile. "Running less so. I wonder why that is. Is swimming more like flying?"

"It was definitely the right choice for /her/." Suraieth. Said while Ben watches her pad her way along the shoreline. "If he's young enough, he'll easily adapt to being here. The nannies are good with the kids and even the children who /don't/ have parents aren't made to feel that way. Mine spent most of their days in the nursery when they were little, but it doesn't make me and their father /not/ their parents." She glances out across the water again, giving a quick shrug of one shoulder. "I think there's a weightlessness to swimming similar to flying? None of them ever seem very /graceful/ when they run; it's always quite awkward."

"It was," confirms Dal, just barely above a whisper. He's leaning on his crutches, staring after his dragon with an expression of besotted awe, something he has to forcibly shake away when he turns his gaze back towards Ebeny. "That's encouraging. I'm sure he'll be fine. I know I /want/ to be an active parent, as much as I can be." He lifts one arm from the crutch it holds, using it to awkwardly rub at his own nose. "Right. Weightlessness. Well... she won't mind being encouraged to do more of it. And once I get out of this cast..." /He/ won't either.

"A lot of parents still have their kids live with them, it's just that they have to spend time in the nursery or in their lessons when their parents are occupied with their duties, whatever form they take," Ben says slowly, propping her good hand down behind her in the sand so that she doesn't have to crane her neck so to look up at N'dalis. "I'd like her to swim under supervision, at first. At least the /more/ of it that she'll be doing," she requests. "She mustn't drag her wings through the water, as there's a good chance that she'll do muscle damage or make things worse if she does."

Fond wistfulness suffuses N'dalis' expression, and he nods. "So there are... options. All kinds of ways to do it. Good. And I've a while to get my head around how to make it work for /us/." Again, his gaze tracks after his green, who has come to a halt in front of a particularly fascinating rock, and is studying it in a way that has her absolutely stock still, even her breathing barely visible. "Yes, ma'am," he promises. "Nothing without supervision. I promise, we're not going to do /anything/ that could hurt her recovery. I want her whole again, soon as she can be."

"Yes," Ben answers, her voice soft. "Often, a lot of people will go out of their way to make sure that you're happy and /he's/ happy. And they won't make you feel like you owe them anything for it either." Yet, so would say a weyrbred woman raising weyrbred children. "But good, I'm glad you feel that way about her recovery. For you and, well, for the others. You're one of the older ones and they /do/ look to you for what's right; it's just how it is." Carefully, so as not to kick up sand all over the place, she clambers to her feet and bends down to retrieve her bowl. "Do you have any specific requests for your lessons or her progress?"

N'dalis' attention tracks back towards Ebeny, and he smiles - it's a narrow smile, nothing overwhelming, but it's /there/, and given the rarity of that, it means something. "Good," he says, on an exhale. "Good. I'm - I'm glad they look up to me. It makes me feel useful, in a way, if that makes sense? Reesa called me 'paternal', and I guess I am. It's something I /can/ do." His head shakes, his hands gripping more securely the handles of his crutches. "As long as we're kept busy, I'm happy enough, ma'am."

"Good all round then." Ben doesn't quite let herself smile, but she gives a little twitch of her lips. "But don't try to carry the weight of all their troubles on your shoulders. You're going through the same things they are, if with a good deal more life experience than the youngest in your class." Her gaze flicks back up to his, her expression shading hesitant as she weighs whether or not to take his answer at face value, but that's exactly what she must decide, for she says, "Okay. You sure won't be lounging around in bed all day, I can promise you that much." Though, before she might turn to go and return her bowl to the kitchen, she pauses and adds, "If there's /anything/ you need... You let me know, okay?"

"I'll try not to, ma'am. I'm sure I've enough troubles of my own." Dal acknowledges the rest of Ebeny's words with a sharp nod-- and then an awkward salute, made especially awkward by the crutches he's still trying to hold up. "I will. I promise. Thank you, ma'am. We'll be back before classes resume, I promise." Suraieth is not /quite/ finished with her explorations... though she's making the backwards glances that suggest that that time is not far off.

"You're welcome, N'dalis," Ben replies with quiet sincerity. "And Suraieth." This called down in the young green's direction so as to talk /to/ her and not about her as much as she can. A nod answers his salute, any awkwardness to it ignored for the sake of creating any embarrassment for both of them, or perhaps just in appreciation of the effort made. "We'll see you in a bit." And so she heads off towards the sturdier ground of the bowl proper and caverns that must be braved in the name of being polite to the kitchen staff.