Difference between revisions of "Logs:Pillows"

It's a lovely afternoon outside, the kind of summer day that encourages time spent in it, but not everywhere at Fort can or will take advantage of it. For N'dalis, the relative quiet of the Nighthearth seems to be as good a place to stretch out and eat lunch as any; he's got the remains of some stew in a bowl in one hand, and a mug of klah set on the floor beside one foot. The other foot? That's slung over the opposite arm of his chair, though this seems to be less about relaxation and more about positioning it for exercises: he keeps lifting it, holding it in the air for a few wavering seconds, and then dropping it back to rest.

Ebeny's shift with the weyrlings has finished and now her assistants are left to watch over those not yet in their own weyrs, leaving the greenrider to tend to her family now that she's not on duty with her other 'kids'. It's still a relatively rare sight, that of Ben with her youngest child in her arms, the girl's parentage quite clear in the look of the Weyrsecond about her, and this evening the girl is fast asleep against her mother, head resting against her shoulder. The Weyrlingmaster hesitates at the entryway to the nighthearth, pausing to watch and try to understand what N'dalis is up to, but then she heads inside and plants Elayne down in one of the comfy chairs, settling her there before she turns to greet N'dalis with a nod and a half-smile.

N'dalis is pretty intent on supervising his own peculiar brand of exercise, enough so that he doesn't immediately register Ebeny's entrance - not until she's sitting down and in his field of view. His dark cheeks promptly flush, his leg dropping back towards the edge of the chair and then, rather like a child caught at something forbidden, it slides towards the ground. "Ma'am," he says, hastily, drawing both hands towards his stew bowl semi-protectively.

Dragon> High above in the skies of Fort, Isyath circles on the warm summer thermals, delight spilling around the Weyr, coaxing those that can fly- especially her younger children- up to join her. (To Fort dragons from Isyath)

Perched on the edge of the chair in which she's situated the sleeping Elayne, Ben turns her gaze towards the fire when N'dalis blushes, staring there a little too intently for it to purely be a coincidence. She's still watching the leaping flames when she lightly asks, "Something the healers told you to do?" Sit there and wait for an answer, she does not, but rather finds her feet and heads over to serve herself from the pot of stew, a wrinkle of her nose betraying little interest in the stuff.

Dragon> To Fort dragons, Suraieth /has/ used her wings, now, albeit more for 'gliding' than 'flying' and under /very/ controlled circumstances, but /still/. It's an improvement. Still, she can only watch Isyath's flight - watch, and scrutinize her movements, and those of the others that join her. Is it efficient? Is it effective? Well. It's /interesting/, anyway.

"It's-" N'dalis begins, pauses, and then shakes his head. "I'm just tired of that leg being weaker than the other. It seems like if I can do something to try and strengthen then muscles, then I should." His gaze follows her towards the hearth for a moment, but doesn't linger - instead, it slides back towards the sleeping Elayne, and studies /her/ for a moment or two. "Your daughter," he assumes, low voiced.

Dragon> Efficient? Effective? These aren't words in the junior queen's vocabulary. /Fun/ definitely is, as is /exciting/ and interesting, too- and why /can't/ Suraieth join them? Surely she's old enough? (Restraint? What's that?) (To Fort dragons from Isyath)

Dragon> To Fort dragons, Niyuth's mind is ground and soil and dust, a calming factor that grounds the mind. The dragons flight is studied laboriously and then projected back at them, perfecting them where it's needed or perhaps giving a slight correction. Perhaps it's a bit unwarrented but the brown does what he can to assist the young dragons.

"Does that leg threaten to collapse beneath you?" Ben asks, her gaze momentarily flicking back to ladle and stew in-case she should spill anything. "There're all sorts of things you could do, like we've tried strengthening Suraieth's limbs to balance out her wings." She's not /unkindly/ practical about it all, her voice kept gentle for more than the sleeping child's sake. "Though, I'm sure if the healers told you to do that, you know the rest too... They're... efficient." Bowl claimed and fork selected from the cutlery available, at N'dalis enquiry Ben blinks over at Elayne quite as if she's never seen her before. "My... daughter," she confirms, as though the words are foreign to her.

Dragon> To Fort dragons, Suraieth doesn't remember, now, the /events/ that led to her not being able to fly (draconic memory is a wonderful thing; so too is the restraint not to go digging around in her rider's thoughts to re-determiner it); only that she is not permitted, not yet. But soon. For now, she's unbothered to watch from that junior queen's ledge that is partially hers. And yes, judge, in that serene way of hers.

N'dalis is too polite, and too careful, to betray too much of a reaction to this mention of the healers, though a glance at his expression would show /something/ in his gaze. "We're working on it," he confirms. "Slowly. It's just - it takes time, and it feels strange, still. I'd hoped that once the cast was off, it would be quicker than this." He sets down his bowl, replacing it with his mug, though a single sip from /that/ seems to indicate that it's been there a while - that it's cold. "She's lovely. How old?"

Dragon> Just as long as Niyuth's comments aren't directed at /Isyath/- because of /course/ her flying is perfect. (Except for that little slip there when she was turning. But no one noticed, right? Right.) (To Fort dragons from Isyath)

"I know," Ben murmurs, perching back on the edge of that comfy chair. "It's not fun." A waggle of the fingers of one hand accompanies: "Still feels like they don't move quite quick enough; like the base of my hand is numb." And yet that same hand is used to touch thumb and little finger to just above either side of her knee, then to just below her hip. "Get those muscles working properly again and they'll support the others whilst they build back up," the greenrider offers with a shrug, once again assuming she's treading on healer toes. When muddy-green eyes find Elayne again, they stay there this time. "Two and a half. Got her father's build, thankfully. Or so it looks like."

There's something wistful in N'dalis' gaze as he considers Elayne. "Two and a half is a wonderful age," he says, reminiscently, though he has to pause and blink something away - and then so hastily shift back to the other topic. "Our bodies are so fragile, when it comes down to it. They heal, but... thank you, ma'am. I'll try and focus my attentions there, and see how things go. At least there's progress. For both of us. Su's out there watching the other dragons fly, and she's not /impatient/, but it would be better if she were up there with them. If she wanted to be."

"I've got two and a half turns of catching up to do," Ben says softly, hastily swallowing down her word with a forkful of stew. She nudges a piece of vegetable around the bowl for a few moments, watching it before she decides to skewer it. "Laurienth could tell you a thing or two about 'fragile', not that she thinks she is. I'd like to say I've forgotten how many times she's smashed something, but I can still remember each one," she utters dryly, rolling her eyes a little. "But at least Suraieth's not rushing and hurting herself. She'll get there, but... I'm sure none of us wants her hurt." More munching follows, then: "Which weyr did you choose in the end?"

Sympathy, now, from N'dalis, though it doesn't get voiced - and, indeed, he seems happily enough to let that topic of conversation slide. He glances down into his mug, and then sets it aside, his hands sitting restlessly in his lap. "No," he agrees. "Su's patient. She likes studying all the other dragons, and seeing how they do things. If anything, it's as though she prefers to wait, because she'll be better able to put it all into practice, then." His gaze turns back towards Ebeny, and abruptly, he smiles. "The one that's really high up in the bowl, with all the sunshine. With an actual bedroom, behind an actual door."

"Have you ever thought about teaching?" Ben enquires between one bite of stew and the next. "She sounds like she has the temperament for it, though how badly it'd be tested by lots of very little dragons, I can't say. And, well, you're old enough for it - no offense. We take younger trainees, but older is always a plus." Elayne stirs, drawing her attention, yet the little girl doesn't wake and only curls more snugly in against one of the chair's cushions. Her mother is frowning by the time she looks up at N'dalis again and asks, "Purple door?"

The question surprises Dal, leaving him hesitant and thoughtful, very obviously mulling over this possibility. "I hadn't," he admits. "But now that you mention it... it /is/ something I would consider, if you think we could be useful there. I imagine it's... difficult, at times, for Aislara and Reesa and some of the others." /He/ has worked hard not to be awkward with instructors so many turns younger than he is, but the age difference is nonetheless obvious. "Purple door," he confirms, then, rolling his shoulders back and giving Ebeny a curious glance. "You know it."

Ben smiles slightly, conceding that point with a dip of her head. "Aislara is... young, but the most experienced of my younger assistants. She was trained from a very young age; younger than we accept now." And, given her smile, she doesn't mean that in a negative way. "She was the proof that it could work, actually." That smile only lingers and broadens slightly, becoming faintly lopsided. "It was my weyr - and my... then weyrmate's - when we moved here. Then Reesa's for a time and now... yours. It was a little difficult to raise /two/ children in, but it worked just fine when we only had Cassie."

"She's certainly skilled," says Dal, and then, hastily, "Not that I am in a position to judge, of course. But from what I've seen of her." He doesn't match Ebeny's smile, but something lights in his eyes when he understands the significance of the weyr he's chosen. "I didn't know any of that," he says, though he sounds pleased. "It's nice to know that it has... history. In a positive sense. And that it worked for you, with a child. It seemed... like there could be room for Jay, there. And the doors means I'd worry less about him falling off the ledge when I'm not looking. We /are/ looking forward to being able to move in."

"The doors were half the point that we accepted that one so quickly," Ben agrees, pausing only to take another few bites of her impromptu meal. "We'd had a weyr with a door back at the 'Reaches and it does stop you worrying about your kids wandering off the ledge in the middle of the night." She wrinkles her nose again. "Still wish I had a door, really. Much worse being at ground level and worrying that your too-inquisitive ten turn old is going to roam the bowl at night." But, back to his weyr: "It does work with kids. And the space is what you make of it and do with it, mostly."

The corners of Dal's mouth turn up at mention of that too-inquisitive ten turn old, though they don't go so far as to become an actual smile. "I can imagine," he agrees. "I don't suppose a parent ever stops worrying about their child, and what they child might get up to." He's started to idly massage the muscles of his leg, now, working up and down without seeming to pay any attention to the fact that he's doing it - if he's even noticed. "Su's not sure about the size of the wallow - it's too big for just her, really - but she liked the ledge, and... I think we'll get used to it."

"Well, if you're ever in the bowl of an evening and find a girl who stares at you like she's reading your mind, that's my kid," Ben replies, ripple of fond laughter woven through her words. "Laurienth's always been a fan of pillows and stuffed animals," she shares, "not that I suggest the latter as good for taking up wallow-space." She glances down at her knees and abruptly gets to her feet to set her dirty dish and cutlery down on the tray for such things. "Blankets are good too. And hey, maybe one day she'll have company there." Meant innocently or not, she seems to mean no harm with it. "...But pillows are good in the meantime. Laurie's... getting used to sleeping on her own again. Pillows." This is murmured, as she seeks out Elayne and gently lifts her back into her arms. "I should get her to her father. I'll see you in the morning, N'dalis."

That description of Ebeny's daughter makes Dal's mouth twitch, though he doesn't laugh. He seems unbothered - for better or for worse - by the prospect of his dragon sharing her space; in truth, he has little reaction at all to it, though the 'pillows' remark does make him smile, just barely. "Pillows," he repeats. "We'll have to try that one out. Thank you, Weyrlingmaster. Have a good one."