Difference between revisions of "Logs:We're Still Here"

 brings with it extreme cold.

Though the sun is out and a few of the Weyr's snow-loving residents have bundled up to enjoy a lull in the winter winds, Lujayn is not among them today. Moving quietly along an inner corridor, she pauses to knock at the entrance to familiar quarters and shifts the small stack of hides under her arm. Surely there was enough work to keep her at home, but her expression suggests some unrest. Lu clears her throat with a peer inside: "Anyone home?"

Leova's familiar head pops out, and she laughs, "Lu! Just a minute," and then she's shooing Anvori and their daughter out the door and off to work. Not that her weyrmate is the sort to be shooed before his own time, or the toddler either for that matter, and there's the matter of finding a fallen moccasin and getting it onto a wiggly foot and... "There." Finally. Leova falls back onto the couch, frazzled. "Is yours that much of a...?"

Lujayn stands by, attempting to stay out of the way while the scene unfolds, with a small wave of farewell to Anvori and the child. She hovers near the sofa, her smile sympathetic. "I try to forget the worst of it. Nalani's about the same age - I don't have to imagine." And with that she flops down on the second sofa. "Hope you don't mind the early hour. Thought a change of scenery would help."

"It's all right." Leova's ignoring the detritus of child and woman, and maybe Lujayn will too. Or maybe it's just that she doesn't see it any longer. There's a sweater, though, draped over her couch's back, and that she does muster herself just enough to reach for: soft and plush and sized for Anvori. "Help what?" What is it today?

"It doesn't feel quite real," Lujayn admits to her feet, "This Weyrwoman business. I sit down with the hides," Moving said hides to the other cushion, their own place of honor. "Get right back up again, to the council room, the archives, the usual spots where workers work. Sitting where Tiriana sat-" Does this even make sense? "-it's like I'm waiting for her to come out of some dark corner. Maybe I'm going at it wrong."

Leova's been slowly folding the sweater as Lujayn talks, lining up the arms and then angling them back over the chest before folding the whole thing in half, not bothering with precision particularly. Now she slumps further, so she can lie lengthwise with the sweater as a pillow and look at her clutchmate that way. And blink a few times, now and again. Tired. "Never been there myself," she says with some hesitation. "But that sounds real hard. Like it's not your place yet. Like you've not made it your place?" A tired smile steals across her mouth. "Maybe if you plant trees."

Trees? Lujayn glances towards where a ledge might open were they sitting in the wingrider's weyr, no doubt imagining the unique vision of fruit trees growing halfway up a cliff face. "Felt like I had to be really careful to not.. embrace the thing too much. Y'know?" Maybe. She watches the sweater-folding for a moment before smoothing the bit of rug under her feet. Doing her part and all. "I could probably do well enough by painting. Redecorating." Taken with the simple solution to an itchy problem, she smiles. "Not mine, even if it's not hers anymore. Like I'm just pretending, or waiting for something else." Acting Acting?

Leova's got a nod for that, a quiet, "Like it'll break if you do." Or as though she will. "Painting sounds great. You can even have someone else do it, get it done fast. Which parts, what color? Or just the same thing made fresh?" She hesitates, curling her toes in oversized socks, straightening them out again. "What you said about the rest, though. There's no reason to think anybody's going to go up too soon. Is there." It's not quite a question.

"A mural," Lujayn doesn't have to think long for something that would give the living space a fresh start, relaxing ever so slightly in her seat. "Of mountains, or forest, or the ocean. Maybe all of them." A sidelong glance as she considers the rest, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. "Nah, I guess not. The weyrlings still so young, and Ri," There is a pause there, but not heavy, "Nah. You're right."

Leova's gaze lingers on Lujayn, if not quite focused. "The mural sounds great. Like tapestries, but not as formal... you know, you could put one in that tunnel bit going into the place, too." The depths of weyrwoman territory, council chamber and records room and everything. All of that. "I reckon what other people are wondering is, are you going to train Iolene like you got trained. And are you going to do something to get on better with our Holds than Tiriana ever did. And... but maybe those are the big ones, for starters."

Lujayn considers the almost-questions. "I wonder if she even wants training, now. Being so long without, acting as a rider and not a Junior. If I asked, if she'd refuse." Musings about Iolene fade into a small wrinkle in her brow, turning to thoughts of Holds. "If I could just swoop in and repay what was withheld.. that still wouldn't be the end of everything. All I can do is go on from here like I would do normally, Tiriana or no. Treat people fairly. Be honest." It doesn't sound that hard in theory.

There's a hitch to Leova's shoulder, the one that she's not leaning on. "Good question. Don't think Tiriana did right by her, there." There's only a slight pause, but she has to ask: "If she did refuse. What would you do. How important do you think the training is?" She might continue, but that's not all Lujayn's talked about. "Sounds like a change, all right. I wonder if their 'fair' is at all like our 'fair.'" The soft sound that escapes from her throat isn't quite a chuckle. "You could visit them one by one, bring them a barrel of cider for drinking your health with." And then, abruptly: "Could you say to her... all right, no training, but you're out of the running for Weyrwoman. Could you say that, could you do it."

Lujayn shakes her head, sobered. "No. No she did not." And what was kind of maybe her problem, turns back, is now actually her problem. "I don't want to say anything like that, but you're right. It's the truth and better than any emotional, duty-based sort of reason for doing training." Like the kind of thing she'd try to come up with. "I wouldn't want to, but I'd have to."

"Not unless you have to," Leova agrees, dangling her feet over the couch's other arm. "Though..." she glances over at Lu. "Io never struck me as being, well. All that logical. Or maybe it's different logic? I don't know. Emotional might be better. You helped her out some when she was a weyrling, didn't you? On the side?"

"I tried," Lujayn admits to that last. "Here and there, but it was difficult to do the job thoroughly." At least it's something, a brighter spot on her record. "Giving kind of an ultimatum like that might work better than saying someone 'should' do something. There are a lot of shoulds." Not to mention testing the waters of her authority in this way. "Good thing that's a little clearer job. Less of those muddy political waters."

"Sneaking around like you were? /Got/ to be tough," Leova agrees, her feet swinging back and forth, back and forth. The glowlight is soft and green on her face, and on the plants, kept up high these days out of a toddler's reach. A toddler who likes to /climb/. "I don't know. Would you like an ultimatum, 'do this or you're out'? What about.. what about just, 'This is your job.' And something about how you'll finish what you two started. Something nice. Keep the stick for later." Still her toes sway, not to any particular tempo. "Did you ever lose any of your babies? Before Nalani."

Lujayn is lost in thought for several moments, weighing one approach against another, seeing various merits and downsides before her eyes, all in silence. Then, "I'll figure it out. Write it down. Practice." If that conclusion was difficult to reach, dredging up long-buried memories is something else entirely. But Leova's not just anyone. "At Igen, yes. And once that I knew of before, but.. it can be hard to tell, if it goes too early." Her gaze is almost questioning, not pressing. "Worried about it happening again?"

There's a soft, reminiscent chuckle from the greenrider, and she repeats, "Practice.'" Like the old days, the silver threads working, working it out. "You're making me miss 'back when.'" When they were working together, when I'daur and Zunaeth were still alive. When Satiet was sitting in Lujayn's seat, not here but at the council table. Before their daughters were born. At length, Leova says to her toes, "Via's enough for me. Plenty. No, even if I'm not drinking that tea... it was so hard, Lu."

'Back when,' so simple. The weyrlingmasters had certainly never placed a situation like this on her papers. Before they had to truly inherit what they were being taught. "It was very different." She agrees, not just about past versus present. "I like being a mother." The admission seems to take her a little by surprise. "It's being important in a different way."

Amber eyes lift, somehow taken by surprise that much more. "What do you mean?" And, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Before." At Igen and not just Igen.

"You know.. to another person. Forever. And not for a rank or a Weyr or anything." Emotional stuff that Lujayn tries very hard to define. "A different kind of responsibility, too. Deeper."

"And she can't stop being your weyrmate," Leova murmurs, her voice gone quiet. "It doesn't seem... like it scares you." Her voice doesn't lift very much at all.

"Y'know, I don't think it does," Lujayn examines the idea curiously. "The more I think about it, it's exciting, and different. No one can take it away or try to do it better. It's mine." Pause, thought. "Yours, too."

The greenrider's gaze flicks back to the goldrider, her clutchmate. There's silence, and then she says, "You sound excited about it, in a thinking way. it's not just what you're saying. You sound more excited about that than, than Weyrwoman."

Lujayn's cheeks flush, just a bit. "I can really own being a mother. Weyrwoman.. passes, doesn't it? If I build my life around it and it goes away, what would I have?" A daughter. "Maybe it'll be permanent, maybe not, but I keep thinking if it's not Rielsath," Meeting Leova's gaze. "If it's not, I'd be okay."

"Does it? There are some women whose names clutch after clutch after weyrlings have to memorize," yet Leova's teasing has a softness to it. She's quiet, just those toes turning. "Though you're right, no counting before the eggs have hatched... I'm glad you'd be okay. I'm glad you think you'd be okay. It better be you, it should be you, but. If it's not. The girls need training, all of them. If the Reaches are going to be okay."

"Don't I know it." Lujayn has to smile, or else cry at the thought of training three goldriders simultaneously, two of them weyrlings. "I'll do everything I can," She reassures her friend. "And I'm not above a bit of help myself."

"That's right, it's not as though you're going to leave," but it is as though the startled-looking Leova might have forgotten, for a moment. She exhales, then abruptly stands, moving for the little table and the pot that's sitting there beneath its woolen cozy. While she's doctoring up two mugs, a plain one for Lujayn the way she used to like it and a sweetened and whitened one for herself, "That's reassuring. I wonder when Iolene will be back on her feet. She's in a hard spot too."

"I haven't seen her. Thought she'd need some time." Lujayn follows Leova's progress, thoughtful. "Have you heard anything?" Bound up in her own situation and its immediate concerns, she had been perfectly willing to allow the goldrider her space, now a little dismayed to be out of the loop.

But Leova shakes her head, and admits, "Only gossip. Some of it got pretty bad. Hope she doesn't hear about it." She's silent as she walks over, though the mugs aren't quite topped up, and she hands Lujayn hers: not as hot as it probably should be, but still warming to the insides. "Satiet," she begins, but stops there. "What do you want this place to be like, when our daughters are our age? Or maybe not quite so old."

Lujayn accepts the mug with quiet thanks, brows raising at the abandoned beginning. Instead, she takes a sip to mull over the question. "Would it make sense if I said the same? Or, almost the same. 'Reaches isn't a bad place." Looking for specifics, she continues, "Like a Weyr, a good Weyr with good people and fair leaders. Lots of different people, the freedom to be who you want." She considers for a moment more. "Is there anything you'd hope for?"

The greenrider gives Lujayn a sideways smile. "Reckon it does make sense, all right. I like it. And I didn't mind taking on Boll. All that fresh fruit didn't hurt either. Maybe the basics, just figuring out how to work better with our Holds? And making sure we keep getting tithe, but also seeing what riders can learn and do that doesn't have to do with Fall. And glows that never burn out," this last with a roll of her eyes up at her own dimming glows in their sconces, followed by another quick smile. "And I want Vrianth to stay happy with me."

"We've got it pretty good," Lujayn agrees. "But everlasting glows would take the cake. Everything else, we can work for." Including happy dragons, it would seem. "Anything I can do?"

"Take care of yourself?" Leova offers, once she's had some of her klah and gotten her voice easygoing again. "Don't go crazy or drink all the hard stuff by yourself, or change the Weyr colors to black and pink." Because Lujayn /could/, now. After a moment, "What's going on with E'gin these days?"

"I hadn't thought of that last one, the blue is good enough for me. Would it be a first?" Lujayn shoots a grin, gulps some of the klah. Not too hot is perfect. "E'gin's around. Not like you and Anvori, I mean; he likes spending time with Nalani. We catch each other up on life now and then. It's nice." Casual is nice.

"You're the Recordskeeper, not me," but then Leova sobers out of her laughter, at least a little. "Oh, Anvori. No. He wouldn't be. I'm glad it's working out, though. That things are looking up for you, at least when you aren't worried about your weyr being the one to get torched next." After a moment, "I wonder how Ezalea is doing, though I never knew her. Not well. Or how C'sel is, for that matter."

"I'll keep a bucket of water nearby." Lujayn chimes in before the remembered names summon faces, almost more of them than one person can recall. "There are so many people we've lost touch with," She sighs. "People move on, I guess. Or grow apart. Lucky we're both still here to remember."

Leova has to laugh right off, and a little later, even more. She picks up a pillow and warns, "If you weren't holding that klah, over my couch, I'd hit you right now. We're not that ancient. Imagine if we had to count everyone who's stayed."

Lujayn cackles a little bit, though there doesn't seem to be much left in her cup to spill. "Listen to us over our klah, reminiscing and thinking after the good old days, then," She teases. "With the pitter-patter of little feet and all. Maybe I should feel older, just to make sure I act like an adult."

More laughing. "Maybe so." Leova puts her mug on the floor out of the way and advances towards her friend with her pillow held high. "Go ahead. Put down your klah. If you dare."

Raising the drops left in her mug as if in defense, there's a bark of breathless laughter as Lu leans evasively to one side. Cowering in her own pillows, rolling straight over the long-forgotten hides of responsibility, her free hand finds a cushion and then - well, who says two completely adult people are past having a riotous good time?