Difference between revisions of "Logs:Facing Fears"

With summer due to end - at least by the calendar - any day now, it's no wonder, really, that so many Fortians are out and about, making the most of the warm weather. Dal stands in the water up to his ankles, supervising the five-turn-old that is his son; Jaymin's surrounded by a group of similarly aged children, splashing around within careful reach of more than one parent or guardian.

Over the past few months, Ebeny has earned herself a reputation as something akin to a nocturnal animal, being that she can often be seen roaming the caverns in the early hours, thanks to one or the other of her youngest, and isn't seen very often during the day, unless occupied by duties or overseeing the last of the finishing touches to the new weyrling complex. The lack of sun has done her pale complexion no good, but she's finally out in that sunshine today, though not without one of the babies, carried in a soft sling and bundle of blankets. She pauses not so far from N'dalis, scanning the group for something or someone that she doesn't find, then slowly ambles across the distance between them. "N'dalis," she greets, voice quiet. "And your boy?"

N'dalis turns, shifting his upper body rather than his feet, abruptly smiling as he considers Ebeny and her precious bundle. "And my boy," he confirms. "He's just turned five, and so I /promised/ I'd come watch him swim. He's been having lessons." His fatherly pride is visible enough in the tone of his voice, and in the look on his face; it turns towards interest as, indicating Ebeny's daughter with a tilt of his head, he says, "And one of your daughters, I assume. I hope they're doing well. And you."

"What's his name?" Ben asks, just low enough to hopefully be out of anyone else's hearing range. "I know you must have told me before, but it's gone clear out of my mind," she confesses a little ruefully, pink colouring her cheeks. "Happy belated turnday to him, anyway. He's getting on well here? It seems like it." She glances down at the baby in the bundle, saying, "Eden," as she absently smoothes a hand over the fabric of the sling. Thankfully, Eden stays fast asleep. For now. "And they're doing better, thank you. Her sister's given us some frights."

"Jaymin," answers N'dalis, equally low and clearly unbothered. "Jay. I do remember what it's like, having a baby around, and we only had the one." If he looks wistful for the recollection, well, it only lasts a moment. "He is. He's happy. It's been wonderful, truly, being close to each other again. It was so difficult, being separated." Voice lowering further, he adds, "Hello, Eden. I hope you and your sister are aiming for smooth sailing from here. Will it," and this is surely aimed at Ebeny all over again, "be difficult, when there are weyrlings again?"

"Jaymin," Ben repeats, gaze going distant as she attempts to cement the name somewhere in her memory. "And that's good. I'm glad. I know there're all these stories about the differences between raising children in Holds and in Weyrs, but as long as they're happy, that's the important thing. Isn't it?" That he talks to Eden makes her smile, in that fond, pleased sort of way of mothers, and she's still sporting that look when she listens to N'dalis' question about the weyrlings, making it seem like she has no worries at all. For just a moment. "Probably," she admits. "But I've got half a dozen of you assistants in training now. Whether it's Elaruth or Isyath... or /both/, we'll be ready."

Wryly, and giving the impression that it's something that has been argued about with him or at least in his presence, Dal says, "He's not seen anything traumatic and inappropriate yet. No, you're quite right: as long as they're happy and well cared for, the rest is simply..." he waves his hand, vaguely, evidently failing to come up with an appropriate word. "Both," is said musingly. "I hadn't thought of that. I... /am/ looking forward to it, and I'm sure we'll all do our best, but..." Abruptly, he straightens his shoulders. "I hope you'll arrange your schedule to suit the needs of your family, too. And your own needs." Pause. "Weyrlingmaster."

"Unless you park him outside the feeding pens and leave him there, I'm not sure that there's much 'traumatic' to be seen, if I'm honest," Ben considers, aiming a quick look down at her feet, where the wash of the water from the lake laps at her boots. "One or the other would be just fine with me," she sighs. "But they usually go up within the same turn and it's... odd, I think-- Well, it's none of my business." Even so, she casts a long look up towards the star stones, where a pale gold figure can distinctly be seen. That straightening of shoulders and address by rank makes her frown just for a split second, nervousness creeping in, like she's trying to figure out whether she's done something wrong. "Oh, I don't need much," she assures.

N'dalis, in answer, flushes beneath his dark tan and naturally dark skin. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry." For some seconds, he seems to be completely at a loss as to what to say, his gaze turned away from the other greenrider and towards, instead, his son and the other frolicking children. "As long as they don't both rise at once, I'm sure we'll be fine," he ventures, finally. "At least there are signs, now. That's good, isn't it? And the barracks will be all ready for them, and they won't..." He trails off, awkward in recollection. So awkward.

That makes two of them, for Ben opens and closes her mouth a couple of times without finding words, then has to settle for reaching out, aiming to gently touch N'dalis' elbow. "You have nothing to apologise for," she says quietly. "Maybe I need more /sleep/ than I let on," is a weak joke, attempting to somehow make amends. Of the barracks, she instinctively looks towards them and the new buildings, sombre. "No..." she murmurs. "They won't... fall. As much as we can promise anything." Taking a deep breath, she looks back at him and offers, "I can keep you on outside lessons if you want. For a while. I get it, you know."

It's not until that hand on his elbow that N'dalis turns his gaze back on to Ebeny, giving her a simple nod - just one. Perhaps it says something that it's easier, after that, to take in a deep breath and consider the rest of what she's said; he exhales, lengthily. "I haven't really been in, much," he admits. "I /should/ feel fine about it. It's all new, and safe, and I'm fine in the caverns and... can we see how I feel, please? If I can get used to it. I /need/ to get used to it. Does it bother you?"

Ebeny nods, not overly eager and dismissive with her attempt to convey understanding; it's a slow and measured gesture. "I don't think there's a rule book for this sort of thing," she gently replies, wrapping both arms back around Eden. "So... I figure we work with what we can do. There's a staff 'on call' room in there now and it's not part of... /that/ chamber, so... I hope that'll help. I don't... At night, it can be bad, and I don't know why, because it didn't even /happen/ at night--" Before she can ramble on any further, she stops herself, taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine," she assures. "No pressure, I promise."

A rough breath escapes N'dalis' mouth, almost as if he didn't even intend it to, and he's extra cautious, then, in answering what Ebeny has said with a nod. "Su doesn't remember, and that helps," he says. "If I don't think about it. It'll - yes, it will be fine. No pressure. If I can go back to Fort Sea," he's staring at his son again, watching him with near desperate intensity, "then I can manage this, too. I should... visit the barracks more often, and start trying to... become accustomed to them." He punctuates /that/ statement with a nod.

"When you're ready," Ben insists, her voice still held low and quiet. "It could be months and months and /months/ still, besides. Signs are only... signs." Another look for the queen up on the star stones, who doesn't appear to be glowing. Yet. "Little by little," she murmurs, as Eden stirs and wriggles an arm free of her blankets. "Don't think about it yet. Not until we need to," the greenrider suggests in that same tone, edging her way back towards drier sand. "I'll leave you to..." Jaymin. Swimming.

"I'll work up to it," promises N'dalis, though something about the determined line of his mouth, and the equally determined line of his shoulders, suggests that whatever she says, he's likely to start sooner rather than later. "Thank you, Ebeny. Look... after yourself. And your little girls." And /he/ will go back to giving his son rather more of his attention, and put aside some of those awful memories in lieu of enjoying the warm, fine afternoon.