Difference between revisions of "Logs:Father Figure"

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

The weather is beautiful today! Well, beautiful by 'Reaches standards. Snow isn't actively falling, though melting drifts remain scattered all about, where they haven't been manually cleared. The wind's fairly strong gusts keep puffy white clouds sliding across the sky and sweeps flakes off the tops of drifts to scatter in the air. Despite all that, the sun shines down and the temperature is above freezing! It still calls for a warm coat though. Wakizian is wrapped up in his usual outdoor winterwear, walking along the edge of the lake shore, red-mittened hands rubbing together as he meanders. It's unusual to find him on his own at this time of day, especially when he has chores to do. His expression is a combination of lost and troubled.

There are a few people out on the lake, getting in what skating they can before the inevitable thaw -- winter has to end eventually, right? K'del is not one of those, though he's watching several who are: two red-headed boys, presently racing a couple of other children across the ice. The bronzerider has spread a blanket upon the land-bridge, and is sitting upon it with his knees awkwardly drawn up towards his chin, a faraway look in his eyes. A yell from one of the children out on the lake pulls him out of his thoughts; a moment later, glancing around, his gaze falls towards Wakizian, chin lifted in surprise and concerned curiosity.

The yell from the lake has a similar effect on the Candidate, his gaze casting out across the lake to ensure there's no need to come to the rescue of any wayward child. Finding nothing amiss, his eyes continue along the shore and his eyes stop when they happen to meet K'del's. He nods in the bronzerider's direction, pausing in his path. He closes his eyes briefly, some decision seeming to be made in that moment, before he's heading in the older man's direction. "Sir? K'del? Do you have a few minutes to spare?"

K'del acknowledges Wakizian's nod with one of his own, still watching the Candidate intensely enough that he doesn't seem especially surprised when he heads in his direction. K'del slides down the blanket, indicating with his left hand the space beside him: come, sit. "'long as you help me keep an eye out for any disasters on the ice, definitely. You look... bothered." And K'del? After the seven he's had (and the turn before it), he's got to have a pretty good idea of what bothered looks and feels like. He sounds sympathetic, albeit quietly so.

"Sure. I'm no stranger to signs of disaster." Crazy teen ones and younger, only. But problems on the ice qualify. Wakizian drops down onto the blanket, shifting a few times until he gets comfortable, keeping his boots politely off the edge. "Bothered is one way to put it." His expression contorts into a grimace. "I have a problem." He pulls off one red mitten and pulls a folded message hide out of his pocket and offers it over to K'del. "I wrote to my father to tell him about my candidacy. That's... what he answered." Scrawled on the hide is a simple phrase: A son of mine would never do this. Bothering, indeed!

Allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards into something resembling a smile, K'del drapes his hands loosely over his knees, letting them rest there until he's offered the message. He reads it at a quick skim, that near-smile abruptly fading to neutrality, and then, finally, dismay. "Not surprised it's bothering you," he says, after a lengthy exhale in which it's likely he's trying to work out what to say. He turns his attention back to the teen, offering the note back silently. "It is your life. Do you think he'd-- cut you off, or doing something drastic, if you proceeded?" Beat. "How does it make you feel?"

Wakizian sits in silence for a long moment, eyes on his hands in his lap. His shoulders are rolled forward in a slight hunch, and his expression is the soberest it's likely been since he was twelve. "I-- don't talk about my family much. Not-- not to anyone." He swallows. This phrase obviously asks for the bronzerider's discretion. "Truthfully, K'del, those are the first words my father has said-- written-- otherwise communicated to me since I was twelve turns old and told him I was joining the Smiths, instead of the Miners." He slips his bare hand back into the red mitten. "So it shouldn't bother me that he would say something like that, since it's been so long since he acknowledged me anyway, but... it does." Obviously. "I guess maybe he hated me joining another craft enough to stop speaking to me, but becoming a dragonrider? That's-- there's never been one in my family, as far back as anyone can remember. And," His look turns embarrassed, "Dad's never been one to kowtow to riders and their respectable profession, just tolerate them. Especially once the Interval began."

During that period of silence, K'del waits, absolutely patient and without any apparent intention of interrupting. When Wakizian does speak, he gets a nod - just one - that promises, without saying, that he will keep this secret. "Of course it bothers you," he says, eventually, after the Candidate has finished. "Be surprised if it didn't. We all want, even if we don't admit to it, our families to be proud of us. It's not easy. Pretty sure there are a number of people around the Weyr who don't have contact with their families, anymore," though he's careful not to mention who those people might be, "And that's awful. But you've got to do what is right for you. In the end, we all make our own families, as much as we're born into them. If that makes sense?"

Not many things make it through the omnipresent thoughts of food and girls to make an impact on the brain of a teenage boy, but for K'del's words, Wakizian is all ears and seems to take them as gospel truth. He takes a deep breath, lips pressed into a tight line. This discussion is obviously hard for him, the would-be clown is asking much of himself to tackle the big issues today. "It does. I mean, I've got Nicky so far. He's like a brother. Closer than any of my natural brothers. But-- I donno. I keep thinking that it's not fair for something like this to affect me the way it is. Like he shouldn't be able to get inside me and tear me up." This is all too honest, and exasperation breaks, "Shells! I mean, you're more of a father to me than he ever was, and that's just from being the sharding Weyrleader here my whole life. My father is a stranger to me and it still--" He mimes a painful evisceration, which would probably be clearer if his hands weren't mittened, but the bright red of the gloves makes for a good suggestion of blood. "Some days I wish I was like Alida." This is declared with some force, before he explains softly, "Hard-- so nothing could hurt me." There's a beat before he asks meekly, "Is the love of a dragon better than the love of a father?" His eyes are glistening, nothing yet overflowing - he's a man after all!

K'del half-turns, and for a moment, looks as though he's about to reach out and hug Wakizian-- evidently he thinks better of it, however, and his arms drop back towards his knees. "It isn't fair," he agrees, quietly. "Never is. Feelings-- know what you mean, there. Amount of times I wished I didn't feel things so strongly." It's not exactly a newsflash, that K'del cries, though he's careful now not to draw attention to the younger man's tears. "But if we don't feel, we don't feel the good things, either. S'what I keep reminding myself, anyway. We miss out." He turns his gaze away, staring out over the frozen lake with an expression that is intensely thoughtful - and undeniably sad. "If you Impress, you'll love your dragon like nothing you've ever loved before, and he or she will love you back. It's - different. Not human live. Your dragon can see right through to the very heart of you, though, and loves you regardless; it's humbling, and awe-inspiring, and also terrifying. But perfect."

Wakizian can't help it. As K'del speaks of love, two tears slip out of the candidate's eyes, racing one another down his cheeks. Maybe if he ignores them, no one will notice. "Rider Leova couldn't understand why I would want this place more than I would want my craft. She couldn't see that this is where my family is. Messed up as any family is. This is my home. She said that I shouldn't take up space in someone else's dream," Or something like that, "That I should only be a candidate if I really wanted a dragon." For the first time, brown eyes look to K'del - seeking his gaze. The words that come next might seem simple, but represent something much greater. "I want to Impress." For the first time in his albeit young life, Wakizian knows one thing that he wants, not just something he doesn't want. "I want to know that kind of love." His cheeks touch with color, but he doesn't shift his gaze. "Dad can go to the Red Star for all I care."

"I think," and K'del looks so torn, almost as though he wants to sit on his hands right about now just to make sure he doesn't invade Wakizian's personal space and teenage pride, "you're the only one who can really understand, one hundred percent, what it is you want. And..." He looks at Wakizian, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, "it sounds like you've worked that out. Your father - either he'll come around, or he won't, but at least you'll know that you've made the decision that was right for you. That's important. We can't define ourselves by our families, forever. Can't define ourselves by anything except ourselves, either, no matter how easy it might seem to be, sometimes." The pale flush on his cheeks, there, suggests he may be reminding himself of that as much as he is telling Wakizian. "Won't be long now, before those eggs hatch. Sounds like you're ready, though."

Wakizian holds K'del's gaze as he speaks, giving one decisive nod to his words about who defines. "I'm probably the least ready I've ever been for anything. But maybe that's just because this is the first time that I'm actively wanting something instead of just letting life come to me?" The question in his tone is not a question of what he says but more a 'does that make any sense?' that goes unspoken. He glances to K'del to see. Then quietly, "Do you mind if I ask... are you alright? I heard some-- stuff... about the brawl." His tone is of genuine concern and worry. Given his earlier comment about K'del being more a father to him than his own father, despite not having spoken directly with the man much over the turns, it shouldn't be surprising that there are traces of how a teenage son might speak to his father about a serious topic like this to be heard in his tone.

"It's not something you can really be prepared for, really. It's more - you're sure of what you want. And that's the important thing. Go out there not knowing? Could be too late to realise, by the end." Answering that is easier than tackling that second question, the one that has him dropping his gaze and glancing away, letting out a long breath. "That," he says, finally, "Was not one of my finest hours, let me tell you. No: I'm not okay right now, but I'm-- getting there. Guess it was just a really bad time for things to get stirred up again, impacted my judgment." He seems to be having difficulty in turning his gaze back onto Wakizian, but manages it, finally, with a somewhat wary expression on his face. "Bet people'll calling me crazy."

The words about being prepared for Hatching are absorbed, but not commented upon. Instead, there comes a quick reply, "No one's called you crazy within my hearing." The tone that comment is delivered in has an implicit they know better defensive quality to it, the young man practically bristling at the idea. "Si-er, K'del, I know you already have plenty of people who care, and a family, and-- well, I just wanted to say. If you ever have need of ... well, someone like me... You can count on me." Always. Wakizian's face is serious, as he looks to the bronzerider. "And I hope you get okay, sooner rather than later." It clearly doesn't please Waki to think of this weirdly-surrogate-father-figure as in distress.

K'del can't seem to help that smile that twitches around his mouth before pushing through and becoming something broader and more genuine, though there's no sense that he's laughing at Wakizian. "I appreciate it," he says, quietly, and it's probably an answer to those words as a whole, and not just some small part of it. "Doing my best, I promise. Things may seem relatively stable right now, but it's hard to believe it'll last." And that, it's clear, does worry him, for all that he shakes it off to add: "Glad you trust me enough to confide in me, Wakizian. 'm always happy to listen."

"If I were a betting man," The Smith responds, softly circumspect, "I'd wager that the calm will break just before or just after Hatching. All the tension and worry? All the excitement and partying? It makes for a perfect storm, politically speaking." He frowns slightly, "Maybe the Holders-" And he certainly does mean Devaki and his entourage, "-will stay true to their word and leave after the Hatching." He doesn't sound entirely hopeful about that. "But they're probably not the biggest problem." That's all very heavy talk, so Waki is glad to have at least something more pleasant to say as he gives a nod. "Like I said. Sounds crazy, but you're more of a father to me than my own dad. But I'm sure there's loads of weyrbrats that feel that way." He glances to the bronzerider and there's a bit of his familiar playful grin on his face, "That's just one more consequence you'll have to live with for Cadejoth being so sharding good at getting the gold." It's clearly meant to be a compliment to the dragon's skillz with the ladies!

Wakizian's thoughts on the present situation seem to surprise K'del - or, at least, give him considerable thought. "Not sure I can disagree with that," he admits, slowly. "Just hope it's not a colossal-- well." Those thoughts are serious ones, and accompanied by a twitch that is probably related to Devaki in particular. He exhales, and then manages another smile. "Faranth. Thought it was bad enough that every dragon hatched at this Weyr since I Impressed, except Rielsath's seven, are descended from Cadejoth. Now I have a whole army of growing weyrbrats? Niiiiice." He's teasing, and obviously pleased nonetheless. Then, more seriously, "Seriously, though, I'm flattered you think that way. It's - an honour."

"It probably will be." At least that's delivered with over-the-top cheer. It makes the Weyr having a shitstorm sound more pleasant, anyway! "But there's probably no way to avoid it, so what's the use of worrying?" That's been his philosophy for turns, why give it up now just because he's had one paradigm-shifting revelation? "Well, it just means that now you'll have doubly loyal followers, now that that army of weyrbrats is old enough to Impress their very own Cadejoth descendants - next clutch." Pause. "If I don't Impress this time, I'm blaming you. It would have to be because deep down I was resentful that the dragon wasn't a descendent of the virile and prolific Cadejoth." His tone is up-beat once more. Then he grins, "An honour? I'm just glad you didn't laugh at me when I said so. Telling someone that you look up to them like a dad is a lot more embarrassing than telling a girl you like them. At least with telling girls, it's a normal thing."

K'del considers those first words for a moment, giving a half-hearted nod that suggests he's not quite able to think of it in those terms, though he'd probably like to. It's the rest that makes him laugh. "Hey, now. All of those dragons on the sands are Cadejoth's grandchildren, through one clutch or another. Rest assured: if you Impress, Cadejoth's in there somewhere." Head shaking, he shifts his position, resting gloved hands behind him upon so that he can lean backwards, staring partially towards the bowl wall, and partially, if vaguely, towards the cavorting children. "Shells, I don't miss being your age. Girls are hard. Glad you told me, though. Took courage. Well - if you Impress, you'll have a good few months before you can even think of girls... um. Much." Is that a blush?

"Tell me about it." Wakizian sighs dramatically at the point of girls being hard. "It used to be simple. Me, a hammer, the bellows, the forge. Simple. Now there's one woman that makes me twitterpated, one that makes me confused, another one that makes me-- wait, confused. Maybe they all just make me confused." His eyes narrow as he considers this, "Maybe they're all in league with one another to just be totally confusing. How do you even know if one of them likes you?" Pause. "K'del, can I ask you a question? And could you try not to laugh at me?" Try. He's only asking for the attempt. "Is there any kind of rule that says only bronzeriders or brownriders can date goldriders?"

K'del's mouth twitches, barely-suppressed laughter bubbling against his closed lips, before dying away again. At least it does die before Wakizian makes his request, which gets a quick nod, though the bronzerider seems to be struggling not to actually smile. "There's no rule, I promise," he says. "Which one are you after? Brieli?-- No, Azaylia. Bet it's Azaylia. Io just kissed me; that's how I knew she liked me. Apparently, there were signals I should've seen, but... I didn't. Apparently I sent signals, too, but..." He didn't mean to. It's rueful, and faintly, quiet, nostalgic, without being overwhelmingly depressing, for once. If it helps, they're probably pretty confused, too, most of them."

Wakizian seems to appreciate that K'del didn't laugh (out loud) at the question, and his answer does seem to ease some genuine concerns he'd begun to have, "Okay, good. I didn't think so, but then Weyrwoman Brieli told me that dating for riders is different, and then Nicky made me think there was some cockamamie rule about it. But I kept thinking that Azaylia," He confirms, "-wouldn't have accepted a date with me if there was a rule." His brows knit as he mulls over all that, "Why can't all girls be like Io then?" Not that he really knew that particular goldrider well, just from a distance, and he probably just means in making their feelings clear by kissing the dumb bunny who can't see the signs. "I wonder if I send signals. I always thought I just had to say so if I liked someone." There's worry in his face then, "When I asked Azaylia for a date, she added that she would unless I found someone closer to my own age that I liked better. And it's not that I have, but I'm worried now-- but wasn't then, that maybe I'm not grown up enough to take her on a date. It was fine before, but now these other girls are so confusing, and-- I wouldn't want to do wrong by Azaylia." His concern is genuine - clearly he does like the goldrider.

"Io was a-- very different kind of girl." There's that wistfulness, but K'del doesn't let it last for long. "Though, she was confusing too. I mean-- oh, never mind. Believe me, all women are confusing, but it gets easier to try and read them, eventually." He lifts his head further, glancing up in to the clear, blue skies, and adds, "You know Milani? She would've been Headwoman when you first arrived here. She's my Nikalas' mother, and she's three turns older than I am. We were lovers for a long time. Turns and turns. It's all about maturity, I think, not age." He exhales. "And if you hurt Azaylia, you know I'll thrash you. Brawled before, I'll have you know." He's joking.

Wakizian nods to the reference of Milani - vaguely, likely, but she might've been the one to settle him in after his parents headed back to MineCraft. "That's what I was thinking about age. That it doesn't make much difference, after a point. But, I mean, then Azaylia brought it up, and then now I'm confused." It would have been fine if no one had said anything, but noooooo! "And I'm worried about that. Not just you either, though that worries me plenty since I can't fight and Alida won't teach me until the weyrlingmasters get around to having her teach everyone, so if I accidentally stick my head up my -- you know -- I'm going to be black and blue all over - and that's if I get off with light punishment." Everyone loves Azaylia! There'd be a champion around every corner for her honor. "Maybe if I just talk to her? You know, let her know what's going on in my head? Do you think I'd scare her away?"

K'del considers, and then says, finally, "It may be that she was worried that you would come to think she's too old. It's not necessarily all about you being too young for her." His brows knit in thought, mouth opening again long before he actually comes up with anything else to say. "Talk to her. Definitely. If you're going to have a relationship with a woman - any woman - you need to be able to talk about how you feel. Relationships have to be formed on communication. You don't," twitch, goes his expression, "keep secrets from each other. You work together. Might as well start that early, even if all you want is a date or two." Beat. "No one'll beat you up. Probably. If you're careful."

"Azaylia's not old!" Wakizian immediately protests, "Why would she think that?" He doesn't say 'Girls are nuts!' but his tone certainly does. He huffs softly, "Maybe I'll see if I can go find her." He starts to rise, taking up the message hide that found its way absently to the blanket and tucks it into his pocket. "Thanks, K'del." Pause. "For everything." He glances out to the lake, "Think you can handle disaster watch on your own? I think I need to go avert one. My own demise by rabid champion of a certain kind goldrider." He smirks a little, probably more amused by himself in this instance than he expects anyone else to be.

"No, she's not old," agrees K'del, placidly. He shifts his gaze from the distant horizon, towards the lake, and then towards Wakizian, nodding. "Got it covered, thanks. Any time, okay?" Beat. "Watch out for Bones. Heard he got a good one on--" He doesn't say H'kon's name, but his wince? Does seem to imply the brownrider. He does not, however, mention his own injury. "Look after yourself. In general, I mean. Good luck."

"I'll keep that in mind." Beat. "Actually, maybe you can save me another shiner. Do you know-- does Bones-- does he fancy guys?" A blush touches his cheeks, "I'm asking for a friend." Wakizian adds quickly, "I'd just-- rather not have to ask Bones to find out if my friend is--" In danger? On the right track? Who knows. He leaves it hanging as he adjusts hat, scarf and mittens, standing beside the blanket.

This face? This is the K'del boggling face. "I have honestly no idea," he admits, clearly turning the idea over and over in his mouth, and presumably in his head, too. "Sorry. You'l have to find that one out for yourself. But... tell me, if you do get an answer?" That's a smile, right there.

"Only if you give me ice for my black eye or-" Wakizian chokes a little at the thought that then pops into his head. He starts laughing, but manages to get out: "I guess if he doesn't deck me for asking, he might kiss me. In which case I'll need numbweed for my--" He simply widens his eyes and lifts his brows to let the rest of the statement be inferred. Before he can get chastised or congratulated on his joke, he's jogging towards the bowl - high tailing it outta there!

And K'del? He can only stare in amusement and-- something else, something less definable. Something that knits his brows as much as it makes him laugh.