Logs:Weyrling Worries
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| RL Date: 7 November, 2012 |
| Who: Kinory, Quinlys |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Kinory has had visitors from home. Quinlys tries to help. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated! Actually played 30th November 2012. |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. Mid-morning the day after Rielsath and Svissath's eggs hatch, one of the new weyrlings has noticeably had out-of-weyr visitors; a gruff man and a quiet woman, knotted as Monaco residents, spent considerable time deep in discussion with their daughter. Witnesses to Drasor's pointed, "But you should be a greenrider, " observed that the couple was soon after strongly encouraged to leave. Who knows what length of time or powers of persuasion it took to coax an upset baby dragon to calm and gradually lull him into a nap? Somehow, though, Kinory has accomplished just that, leaving her mostly free to bundle into a thick, oversized coat and start a slow, shuffling walk along the caldera wall closest to the weyrling training area. That the weyrling staff are well aware of what has gone on goes without saying, but though Meara and her colleagues have been keeping an eye on Kinory and her brown, they've also given her space (even if Isath and the others may have been subtly helpful in soothing young Ineuth). Now, Quinlys' departure from the barracks is casual enough that it could be concidence, except that she makes a beeline for the weyrling a few moments later: far too deliberate. She's the youngest of the staff, and one of the newest, and maybe that's why she falters a few steps away, and says, with an edge of almost-awkwardness, "Hey. Want to talk?" Kinory automatically pauses at the bluerider's question, but it's a long moment before she replies. Her head shakes once, twice without her turning around. Then, small: "I don't know. Maybe." In an even smaller voice? "I should have known they'd react the way they did." Her hands stuff deeply into her pockets; her expression, pensive when she finally does angle herself to look back at Quinlys. "I don't think we can ever really, for sure, predict how people are going to react to anything," says the bluerider, with enough solemnity to her voice that she may well be talking about bigger events - it has only been a sevenday since Iolene's murder, after all - even as much as she's talking about Kinory's parents. "They're wrong, you know. If Ineuth picked you, then you were supposed to be a brownrider. People said I was supposed to Impress Ysavaeth, once, but it was Olly who chose me, and that's because he's the one who was supposed to. It doesn't matter what they think. Though," she gives the younger woman a little rueful smile, digging her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, "I know that doesn't make it easier to hear." Kinory's brow pinches something fierce. "No, of course we can't, " she says slowly. "I don't - I don't know if I want to be like them. Sometimes I write to them, and listen to them, and ... " She lets herself trail off. "Is this always such a confusing time?" Her side-glance is quick, startled. "Really? I can't - picture any of us being with someone different than who we've got. I must confess, though, I thought my father was right. About everything. That I just wasn't meant to be a rider." There goes that theory right out the window. What else might he be wrong about? It's that first question that Quinlys answers, first, though she has understanding nods for the others, and a hand that rises from her pocket to twist a strand of her dark red hair. "Pretty much always," she confirms. "Everything just changed. Forever. We just get dragged along for the ride, and I think it takes most of us some time to catch up." There's sympathy writ deep and large into the lines of her expression, and into the way she exhales lengthily. "Iolene," and she has to pause and take a breath after that, biting back something else, "offered to trade with me, a few days after we Impressed. And your family... they'll get used to it. To you, and to him. He's what you need to focus on, for now." Kinory nods, slowly. "I see. I wonder if people ever do really want to swap dragons. I know that we're all the best choices for each other, because - that's the way it must be, but it must be hard in the beginning if you feel like you're with someone who isn't at all like you in the least." Fortunately, she doesn't seem to be quite in that camp. And as for her parents getting used to her riding brown, her quiet, "Yes, they will, " sounds more apprehensive than anything else. Quietly, and with a certain amount of empathy and determination: "They will have to, won't they? Whether or not anyone could really want to trade their dragon, it can never happen. You're stuck," her mouth twitches: she seems conscious of the absurdity in even imagining such a thing, "with Ineuth as much as D'vannen is stuck with Hanniath. I think... sometimes people are too much concerned with what is expected, and not enough with what is right. But I know some of us have a hard road in coming to an understanding, even with our dragons. Ineuth's easier than that, I hope?" Kinory smiles a little. "I don't know that I'd find another dragon who - understands me as well, either." There's a careful shrug of a shoulder. "He's not at all what I would have expected had I expected him, if that makes sense?" Her gaze focuses somewhere just off in the distance. "He dares to speak when I wouldn't. He feels that so much is possible for him, for me. For us. I've never really stopped to think about it all before." Her smile turns sheepish. "I've also never felt so hungry so often before. It's really jarring to think that I'm hungry or tired and realize that while I probably am, it's really him." Quinlys' blue eyes watch Kinory with a certain amount of smug satisfaction, and a faint hint of nostalgia, too. "Mm," she agrees. "I'm sorry to say that the hunger will probably get worse before it gets better, but eventually you'll be able to properly differentiate your stomach from his. It's--" She shakes her head, twisting more hair around her fingers before abruptly letting go and returning her hand to her pocket. "Indescribable. Knowing that you now have this one person who is always going to be in your corner. I didn't expect Olly, either. But now... I can't imagine anything else." Listening to all of this in silence, Kinory's cheeks are soon faintly pink, whether from the cold or from being watched. "I suppose not, " she murmurs after a bit. "I can't either - not that I could imagine this to begin with." She looks as if she's about to say something more, but there's a catch in her expression, dark eyes suddenly wide and questioning. "I think he's having a bad dream. About - the argument. I couldn't help being upset. He was upset." The sympathy in Quinlys' expression shifts and fades - and then turns abruptly to concern as Kinory's words continue. She lifts her hand to rub at her forehead again, running her tongue over her teeth for several seconds before she can come up with something to say in response. She seems young, and faintly uncertain. "Everything's mixed up and awful at the moment. Even if it weren't the argument-- do you want me to get Olly to try and help soothe him? He will forget, in time, but you're going to need to... reassure him. When he's awake. You're allowed to be upset." "I think that would help, " Kinory admits reluctantly, pulling her hands from her pockets to instinctively wrap them around herself. "I - that's good to know. It's hard to let myself feel things when I know that they could hurt him, though." Yes, everything's mixed up and awful far, far too early. Ineuth's dreams are certainly so, a strange jumble of voices, shadows, shame and fear. The emotions are a little too deeply-rooted to be his. He's only been in the world for a day, after all. The confusion, however, the chaos? Definitely him. "You need to be strong for him," agrees Quinlys, "but if you try and hide too much, you'll probably confuse him. Better to be honest - or at least, that's what I've found. It'll get easier." Her gaze shifts away from the weyrling, staring vaguely off into the distance. A moment later, Olveraeth's midnight starscape descends gently upon the sleeping brown, expanding across his world with a twinkle of distant pinpricks, and the shadowed wisps of far-off nebulae. There's order, here: everything has a place. A season. Everything, says his hushed whisper that does not quite become tangible words, is fine. "They're resilient. They panic, but they do recover." Olveraeth's comfort sweeps away the dark, loud images from the little brown, and he stirs very briefly - just long enough to emit a sense of fog lifting, a fresh breeze stirring through that silent sky offered by the blue. And after a few breaths, Kinory, too, relaxes, exhaling. "Honest, " she repeats softly. "I'll - I'll work on it, I promise. I'm not used to talking out how I feel. It's both a relief and rather scary, to me, that he can automatically know me better than anyone I've ever met." For someone who doesn't discuss her feelings often, she at least seems willing enough to do so when it becomes very necessary. "Thank you, " she adds, low. "For talking. It's helped. Truly." Quinlys is young and inexperienced enough that she seems genuinely relieved - and more than a little pleased - to have been of assistance. It's a sensation her blue doesn't seem to share, unless he's deliberately hiding that from the much younger brown as he slips away once more, lurking nearby in case he's needed again. Firmly, "Don't mention it. Ki," pause, "Kinory. It's my job, it's what we're here for. And I know this must all be especially difficult for you, being so far from home. I promise it'll get easier. Now - aren't you getting cold?" "Not so far, anymore, I guess, " says Kinory tentatively. There's always between - and however she really feels about it, this is now her home. As if on cue, she shivers a little, mouth curving into another embarrassed smile. "It is rather cold out here. Maybe - Ineuth would feel even better if I curled up next to him." Despite her uncertainty since everything is so new, it doesn't really sound like a question. It may not be a question, but Quinlys smiles and answers it anyway: "I think he might. Come on in." For the other, it may seem as though she's trying to come up with an answer on the way inside, but evidently nothing comes to mind, because aside from a warm, encouraging smile before they part, she has nothing else to add.
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