Difference between revisions of "Logs:How to Disappear"

Quinlys has not been a terribly visible figure in the months since her daughter was born, but since her impromptu vacation a few sevens ago, she's at least been trying to get out and about more. High Reaches' summer has mostly been and gone, but the eighth month can still bring nice days; this afternoon, sans baby, the weyrlingmaster has ventured as far as the grove, and sits upon a low-slung branch of one of the willow trees, with her knees drawn up towards her chin. She's alone, but the silent sentinel of her blue within the lake, his gaze cast in this direction, is a relatively sure indication of her presence; it's increasingly rare, these days, that the two are geographically distant.

In equally measure, T'gar hasn't been visible much at all unless one was following after a certain wing. This day, the the silent bronze is landing on the lake shore, right as the bronzerider makes the turn down the lake at a jog. He seems to be taking the weather in with just woven trousers and wherhide boots on, and he pauses a little past the willow tree that Quinlys sits in as he tries to catch his breath.

Lost in thought though she is, Quinlys is also very sensitive to noise and movement around her; she's likely aware of T'gar's approach long before he's actually come to a halt. For several moments she remains silent and still, as if debating whether to say anything. Finally, "If you were still under my supervision there'd be no pausing for breath at this point. Is Taiga soft on you, or is that riderhood in general?" If she doesn't sound exactly her usual self, at least her words are generally cheerful.

The panting huffs out into faint laughter, likely heard from Quinlys' vantage. Straightening as his back is turned to her, "Ah, but I'm not, am I," T'gar seems happy to point out in that smug sort of tone, running a hand through his damp hair. Turning a glance in her direction, "Come run with me sometime and then tell me if I've gotten soft, Red." Yeah, there's a hint of suggestion that lends more towards what he's talking about couched under the playfulness there. Turning her way to see her more, "What are you doing up in a tree?"

"My implication was that Taiga was soft," points out the redhead, impish. "Not you." Her bare toes wiggle idly as she stares downwards at the bronzerider, shoulders shrugging by way of answer. "I felt like disappearing. It's quite soothing, sometimes, climbing a tree."

"Taiga's never soft, now that I'm there," Rat responds back, grinning now. "At least they're not following my regiment. They'd hate me if I was the one leading drills." His head tilting at an angle to study her now for her curious answer, "Think I get that. Maybe. Never really climbed a tree myself. Though, if you really wanted to disappear, you could have looked me up."

Quinlys' smile is more rueful than bright. "I look forward to the day they make you wingsecond," she tells T'gar, apparently genuine. "And you put them all through their paces, K'del included. Have you really never climbed a tree? Or do you mean for purposes of disappearance?" She drops her legs, now, letting them hang down low, her toes pointed. "Sometimes it's easier to disappear alone. For whatever counts as disappearing, anyway."

"It's still too early to make enemies of my wingmates, Red," Rat teases with a small chuckle. As for climbing trees, "Maybe a few times as a kid," he admits with a slight shrug. "To see what I could of the girls. Most of them don't think to search for you up in a tree." Scoundrel that he is. The banter fades though in light of her last, his brow furrowing as he studies what he could of her in the silence that follows before, his arms fold and, "Hm. Don't know about that. Depends on what you're trying to disappear from. Anything I can do?" The last is given quietly. Sincerely.

"That's terrible," says Quinlys, presumably in regard to the girls, though she doesn't sound serious about it. Pale fingers wrap around the branch of the tree, securing her position. "Mm. I don't know. I've put myself in a pretty stupid situation... I'm not cut out to be a parent, not a full-time, primary carer kind of parent, anyway. If you can convince one of the queens to go up so that I have a full work schedule ahead of me, that'd be great."

"But you find yourself still cut out to be a weyrmate?" T'gar holds no questions, stepping closer to the tree. "Parenting's a lot of work. I thought in a Weyr, you didn't have to be?" He does grin on the suggestion though, and the bronzerider is slow to shake his head as he looks towards the lake shore. "Want to be stuck with weyrlings so soon? You should be taking this time to relax without them. Unless C'ris isn't doing his job by you." Blue eyes cut to her own.

Quinlys doesn't answer that first question. She doesn't make a show of it, moving on to talk to the rest, but there it is nonetheless. "C'ris is uncomfortable with the idea of a child being raised in the nurseries. He's... he's doing what he can. He took time off to take over for a few days." She doesn't explain the reasons. "But if I had weyrlings, there'd be no choice about it. She'd have to go to the nurseries, and that would be that. It's harder for me to justify when my job is basically on hold."

T'gar watches Quinlys and seems to note what she's not saying to him with a simple sniff. He's silent as she speaks on weyrlings and nurseries, and it's only at the end that he asks one of his own after a moment: "Are you happy, Red?"

"What's happy?" comes the bluerider's count, her eyes closing as she does so. "Is anyone happy, when they're not sleeping through the night, when their body is still all... wrong. When they spend hours stuck with a baby they can't communicate with. I love my child, T'gar. I want to be a good mother to her. But..."

"Happy is you not not looking like this, hiding up in a tree to disappear," Rat answers, frowning a bit at her. "That you have to question it...." Pause. "You are a good mother, Quinlys," he says to her then, his tone even. "Shit, at least you're trying. At least you want to try, even at the cost of your happiness." Pause. "But..." It's a prompt for her last, staring her down even if she's above him.

Slowly, silently, Quinlys opens her eyes again. She sighs. "But I'm not designed for full-time parenting. I'm not the happy little wifey woman waiting for her man to come home. The nannies are trained to look after babies like mine. They're good at it. They like doing it." She sighs, again, turning her gaze back towards the bronzerider. "My mom doesn't understand. She'd've done anything to be able to be a proper, full-time parent."

"Putting your kid with the nannies won't mean you're a bad parent," T'gar says firmly. "And being full-time...I don't even see that in you, so why are you doing it when it's not what you want? Isn't this your kid, too?" It seems plain and easy for the bronzerider, at least. On hearing what her mother says, he shakes his head a bit before he remarks, "Believe me, there's no congratulatory handshakes for being full time, either. My ma was full time with me - when I had her - and she used that time to teach me every theivery in the hide."

Quinlys doesn't answer that first bit-- in fact, she seems far more interested in the rest of what T'gar says, amusement gleaming in her expression. "Child pickpocket," she says, with a laugh. "Look, at least she was teaching you useful skills. I mean, given definition of useful, but still. Do you ever miss it?"

"Do I miss pickpocketing?" T'gar questions, a 'tsk' sounding before the words. "Didn't care for it. Got boxed in the ears too much whenever I was caught. Gotta be fast for pickpocketing. I rather just-" Well. He cuts that part off and instead, "You're going to come down from that tree?"

"Just?" Quinlys prompts for a continuation of that, eyes wide and interested. Is she going to come down from the tree? Not just yet, it seems.

Well, it wasn't a good cover and it shows. There's a slight grimace from Rat and he steals a glance in Quinlys' direction before seeking out the view of the lake. There's a lingering pause before there's a slight twitch of a shoulder - as if some decision has been made - and he answers, "I'd rather just knock them down and take what they got." Giving her a look as if to say 'you asked', "It's more of my dad's style of making a living. Remember, I got by on my fists," and his strong-looking hands lift before him to make fists.

Quinlys did ask, and though she flinches, her expression clears after a moment or two and she nods. "Do you miss that, then?" she wonders, instead. "I imagine there's a certain freedom in living outside of the normal rules of society. Though it's hard to imagine raising a child to it; I can't imagine trying to teach Lyrisa some of my worst habits. Or wanting to." She begins to draw herself up, now: to her feet, even, so that she can begin sidling her way down the branch to where it drops towards the ground.

T'gar studies her when she flinches, and his study is intense. Perhaps the question isn't unexpected since an answer arrives without any thought. "Sometimes. Some days all the 'order' and 'authority' gets to me. Some days I think I'm missing out on something 'out there', even though out there screwed me more ways than I can count. I don't think you ever get over being holdless, Red." Beat. "Lyrisa won't ever have to worry about that," he says to her then, hands falling to his sides. "She has you, and, she has this place."

Quinlys pauses where she is, still balancing upon her branch, as T'gar answers her question. Her nod is slow; afterwards, she jumps, comfortably, to the ground, both hands digging into the pockets of her trousers. "Freedom has its cost," she supposes. "But so too does security. It's easy to feel trapped by things. I'm not sure if anywhere really has the proper balance-- and even if it did, people are what make it complicated, aren't they? Because we all have different ideas about how we want to live."

"That it is," Rat agrees as he watches Quinlys jump from the branch. "That it does. I'll admit though. Didn't really consider on sticking around this place, until you threatened to kick me out of those stands that day." The memory draws a low grin from him, with a nod in her direction. "Figured, maybe it was worth me sticking around. Seeing a different way of living."

Quinlys' expression turns bemused... and then amused. "Really? So it can all be blamed on me, then." Evidently the idea tickles her fancy, because she looks positively gleeful (despite how tired she looks; some things are worth the energy). "Return the favour. Next time I have a night out... you should take me the kind of place you used to hang. Show me what it's like."

"I wouldn't go that far," T'gar says on blame, laughing. "Lucky you, Asaroth found me. I bet you'd be bored to tears without me. You don't have to admit it." And then, with Quinlys offering up that opportunity, the smile from the bronzerider couldn't be more pleased, really. He nods once to it before answering, "Consider it an adventure. I'd be honored to. I know just the place, too. Let me know when you want to get out of here for awhile sometime. I'll take it from there."

"It's a date," is blithe; it's hard to tell from Quinlys' tone or expression whether she's teasing with that particular terminology or not. "I will." But for now? "I should go. My mom will want to hand the baby back."

"A date, Red," T'gar agrees, and his is definitely not blithe. Any moment to play with the Weyrlingmaster, this former weyrling seems to take it. He nods though when she has to go, casting a glance around them before he says, "Of course. I would offer a hug, if you don't mind the man smell. Looks like you need one. Be gentle to yourself today, alright?" There's some concern leaking there.

Even T'gar's confirmation of her terminology doesn't draw a more readable expression to Quinlys' face, unusual though that is. Her nod confirms the words, and then, for the rest, she exhales. "I think I can put up with the smell," she says, her voice a little quiet. She steps forward, hands drawing themselves out of their pockets as she does so, head tilted upwards and back so that she can meet T'gar's gaze. "I'm doing my best, promise."

"Well," and T'gar closes the distance between them when he sees Quinlys pull her hands from her pockets - his gaze on hers in turn. Strong arms kept up with an active regiment wrap about her as he draws her close to his bare chest, his embrace firm but not tight enough that she could pull away when she wants. His mouth settles to her temple on her words as he breathes low enough for only her to hear, "Good. Or I'll may have to take you away from here myself until you're all right." Whatever all that entails.

Quinlys? She leans in to that embrace, resting her head against that bare chest quite comfortably, thank you very much. "Your threat," she murmurs, words muffled by her position but nonetheless audible, amusement and all, "is duly noted." She lingers, or seems inclined to do so, but finally draws herself away again-- "I really should go. Thank you, Rat."

Quinlys fits so good against T'gar - at least, by his standards and perhaps he can't help that brief possessive tighten of his hold against her. Lips lightly brush her temple right before she pulls away, his arms reluctant to drop but they do. With an incline of his head and gesture with one hand for her to proceed, "You know how to reach me," is what he says, his grin playful. "Anytime, Red." And of course, he'll watch her leave as if he has all the time in the world.

She does. And no, she doesn't seem to be bothered by the possessiveness of that hold, nor the brush of lips against her temple. Indeed, despite her words, she seems reluctant to leave at all-- it takes her a few moments more of simply watching the bronzerider before she finally draws herself together, nods, and begins to walk back down that path.