Logs:The Welcome Home Game
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| RL Date: 3 January, 2014 |
| Who: Dilan, H'kon, Lilabet, Madilla, Raija |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Daily routine. More or less. |
| Where: Madilla's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| OOC Notes: Raija played by Leova. |
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| What had once been fledgeling signs of cohabitation have now fallen out of the remarkable, and into daily routine. H'kon has left Arekoth oiled, calmed his features into a steady neutral on the way down the hall, and, upon entering the room, strips his gear in steady rhythm; coat to a hook now left open for him, boots slipped off in symmetrical, but staggered motion. Turn to examine whatever thing it is Dilan is waving for his inspection. Offer Lilabet a smile that is clearly shared with one much older and beyond such excitements. Move for water, first, before he seeks to get closer to any family members individually. A practiced dance, done in strict time. It's a dance that gets tracked more often than not, though the location of the tracker varies quite a lot. Today she's under the table, watching, and today her blanket is knotted around her shoulders like a cape. A couple of stuffed toys are at Raija's feet but just now they're being ignored. The big one is here. The big one is there, standing only a few feet away. The water pours, counterpoint to the rhythm. The glass is lifted, tipped, downed all at once, without even a pause for breath. That comes after, when just as the glass is set down, a deep breath, held, and then a slow and satisfied exhale. It's right in the middle of that exhale, although at least it wasn't while the water was actually being drunk, that the pitter-patter of tiny feet becomes a tap headed directly for the man's knee... though Raija also doesn't stop. Hard to say if that sound of tiny steps got through that of water being swallowed. H'kon's fingers still grip the glass, keeping it steady where it was set. But the rest of that dance is put on hold, an indefinite rest, so that the man can swing his head around, look straight on at the caped intruder there. A twitch at the corners, only; then his mouth is kept carefully flatlined. The tiny muscles around his eyes are not so controlled. Raija's looking back at him now, over her shoulder, and then somehow twists so her head stays more or less put but her body's gone back behind a chair. She looks. She looks, and H'kon looks away, and carries on where he'd left off. A quarter-turn to the glass, and then it is released, fingers coming up instead to trace the corners of his mouth and wipe absently on his thigh. The next steps will, as always, bring him to greet the others; Madilla, the older ones. He turns for the couch. Cozy domesticity is such that although Madilla did glance up to note H'kon's arrival, she's not interrupted his dance; or rather, perhaps, she knows that her entrance comes later. She's got Dilan curled up next to her, as she reads through some piece of work from his harper classes or another, but both look up as H'kon turns towards them. "Welcome home. Good day?" Raija doesn't follow H'kon... except with her eyes. They're looking at each other, the adults are. She isn't looking at Dilan, she's only looking at the two of them, and if her brow is getting heavy and her lower lip is disappearing behind her teeth, she still isn't looking at Dilan. She doesn't think to look to see if Lilabet is looking. "Weyrling day," is answer enough, it seems. One step, two, and the third is more a bringing together of his feet than it is forward progress. Another rest. H'kon turns his head, just a little - enough that a watchful girl might notice, not enough to accomplish any different viewpoint. Or maybe, he's just cocked an ear. Maybe, he's just listening. "Yours?" A question extended to each by shifting gaze. Lilabet, stretched out on the floor with a notebook to scribble in, is looking at Raija, albeit in a subtle way. Maybe she's just staring off into space. It's possible, right? "We did all these numbers, today," Dilan enthuses, beaming up at H'kon. "And I was really good at them." And from Madilla: "Raija and I played with putting some quilt pieces together." Like her (eldest) daughter, though perhaps unintentionally so, she's subtly conscious of the family's youngest member. There's nothing from Raija to listen to, she's not even shuffling from foot to foot, though she does cock her own head... and again when she hears her name. Then there is something to hear, for she leans on the leg of the chair and then puts up a foot on its rung like a ladder. It tips, a little. It slips and scrapes. She keeps holding on and starts to climb higher. "Good," to Dilan, approval that H'kons, at least, are certainly not in the habit of doling out liberally. "Numbers are important. Not just for riding." Madilla gets a nod, and the brownrider chews at words he hasn't yet sorted out, mouth shifting. They don't amount to anything audible, in the end. He's changed the angle of his head, listening still, for little feet. Expecting them, and when they don't come, his head turns just a bit more. Dilan blossoms under praise, as Dilans are wont to do; Madilla, never especially concerned with verbal answers, simply smiles. On the floor, Lilabet has noticed Raija's exploit, and this has led her to watch more openly - but she doesn't, won't, interrupt. Higher. Teetering. Raija doesn't so much look proud of herself, yet, as childishly grim with concentration. And in the next moment, she's peeking through the uprights of the chair like so many prison bars. The dance is then resumed; H'kon carries on, up to the couch, where Dilan's shoulder might be brushed as the rider reaches to offer Madilla's a longer press. He still hasn't turned his head to the little girl. It's the big one who gets his attention next, though only that longer look serves as probe as to how her day was. In answer, Madilla's hand lifts to rest momentarily atop H'kon's; as she releases it, the hand is drawn back around Dilan, the weight of her arm giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. Lilabet turns her face up towards H'kon, her expression measured and somewhat secretive, though it's a smug kind of secretive if so. She closes her notebook, a gesture that falls just short of decisive, or perhaps it's protective. Who can tell? In any case, it's turned her gaze away from Raija. Now those bars must actually be opaque, because Raija ignores that whole see-through-ability factor in favor of looking over the chair's back as though it were a solid fence. Her arm sneaks up, then suddenly waves towards the man's peripheral vision before darting down again. H'kon dips his head, not quite averting his eyes from Lilabet, but more showing open acceptance of whatever secrecy she has. It might have gone on, that non-verbal conversation - he might have looked back up, or even at the notebook - but then there's a wave. H'kon turns his head quickly, looks... And seemingly sees nothing, even through those bars. Slowly, he turns back away, while leaving that periphery accessible. Lilabet, too, lets her gaze slide back towards Raija. But she's not interrupting... actually, she's still looking partially at H'kon, and the fact that he's distracted again? It means she can open her notebook all over again. This time, Raija doesn't wave. This time, when he looks to have turned away, she claps her hands... only to, of course, hide them again. Another hour and she might be far too interested in Lilabet's notebook, but this is not that hour. H'kon turns his head once more at that, again to see 'nothing'. But audible cues, those are tough to miss. A sort of warning look is issued to Lilabet, fair warning, before he starts a slow circuit, eyes scanning the floor. Even as he gets near, naturally, he scans only the opposite direction of the girl and her work, but... apparently the circuit is required. Because as much warning as Lilabet gets, Raija will wind up with more before he gets round to the chair. Lilabet does keep her notebook carefully covered, half of her body positioned on top of it (almost), in a way that is surely more 'pre-teen' than 'really far too young to be a pre-teen.' She's also got half an eye for H'kon; half for Raija. She's smirking. Over on the couch, Madilla is surely conscious of spatial positioning, and underlying games, but she seems placidly involved in listening to Dilan's recitation of times tables, one after another after another. There's shuffling going on as Raija turns, as he turns. The littlest girl does glance, finally, at Lilabet through her bars: one-way vision, perhaps. She chances one more lift-and-clap, and then she's shrunk low again; apparently, as long as she's beneath the tabletop's plane, that will do. That circuit takes H'kon from the front of the couch, past Lilabet, and then toward the table. The table itself is given a fairly wide berth, and H'kon looks around - at the top of it, at an empty chair... And carries on, not breaking his stride. Madilla's head does lift, tracking H'kon for a moment, and smiling, too, whether or not he pauses to see it on his way toward the table. On the floor, Lilabet snorts, perhaps with laughter, and then turns her attention back upon the book. She's not interested in Raija - not even a little! Or so her pose attempts to imply. What?! Raija's head pops up, and then her hands do too, and she claps twice! ...before promptly sinking again, except not as far, her eyes peeking over the edge this time. The clap - the double clap - makes H'kon stop, and turn, so very slowly, back around. If Dilan weren't so busy with the sixes over there, he might notice a similarity in the rider's movement to his dragon. H'kon scans. Dilan would be so pleased with noticing that, too. So smug! But no: six times six is thirty-six and his mother's approval is all he cares about right at this moment... well, unless Arekoth were here. Lilabet's gaze lifts again at the clap, but just for a moment. She's not peeking. The Raija-eyes blink. Blink blink. H'kon's scan, thankfully, finds Raija before he needs to change his footing or twist his body overly much. It means, for a moment, he's just looking, and blinking back at her. And maybe equally uncertain how to proceed. Did we all know that six times eight is forty-eight? We do now! Dilan's voice is low but sure, keeping the room from completely dropping into silence. On the floor, Lilabet says, "Careful, Raija. The H'kon-monster might steal your--" 'Blanket' might be a bad idea. "Eyes!" It's not always clear just how much Raija understands, but while that bored tone doesn't put her on alert in the same way as another might, abruptly she's squatting so her eyes can't be seen even through the bars and emitting a small whine of a noise. H'kon's lips and tongue, no really, are all set for the 'L' of a dismayed sort of, 'Lilabet' - but it stops at that, and all that air just escapes on either side of his mouth. Instead, he turns his head forward, away from Raija. And, uncertain, slow-motion collapses into a cross-legged sit on the floor. "That does not happen," is soft, if not outright comforting in tone. Lilabet probably knows all too well that she shouldn't have said that; she may even have caught her mother's warning glance, even if her gaze is nowhere in that direction. "No," she says, with a sigh. "It doesn't happen. Your eyes are safe, Raija. Give us a clap." The sound, the first sound, the one that's before his words... that has Raija drawing back her head and then peeking, starting to relax. Then there's Lilabet. Then Raija goes and crosses her arms, hard, not like the adults do it but as though she's gripping her cloaked shoulders to keep them still. No. None of that. Only peeking, a darted look at the older girl and then at him, one eye and then the other except that she's not good at that, exactly. It's more like one and a quarter eyes and then one and a half. Raija can peek. H'kon, he's just sitting. Sitting, and something more, something easily understood for anyone who's been in a Weyr for any bit of time, and can see that look, the dragonrider's look, on his face. Whatever the conversation is (maybe something about the number seventy-two?), it has the man's shoulders relaxing faintly. Lilabet knows that look. Her mother and brother probably do, too, but even Madilla is still more focused on Dilan and his numbers (thirteen times six is...) than on Raija; is that a sign of trust? Again, Lilabet sighs. She hides her eyes beneath her hands, elbows propped up so that she can better achieve this. Look: she can hide, too! Raija can peek. She peeks this way, and that way, but more off Lilabet than really at her. Or more specifically: she peeks this way, and then at him, and then that way, and then at him, and then abruptly she's sliding off the chair with a thud and scuttling under the table. The blanket even flares out from her shoulders as she goes, though she doesn't look back to see. Game over. The game may be over, but H'kon stays where he is, listening to Dilan's numbers, talking with Arekoth, certainly not looking over at Lilabet. He'll stay there for... a while. Until someone or something moves him. Lilabet, most likely, moves first: she gathers up her things and storms off into the bedroom without a backwards glance. But later, not so very long later, there's Madilla and Dilan, and one-if-not-the-other can certainly draw things away. Has H'kon heard Dilan's numbers? He really should.
CommentsEdyis (Edyis (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 04 Feb 2014 08:59:04 GMT. <
Aww! More please!
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Comments
Edyis (Edyis (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 04 Feb 2014 08:59:04 GMT.
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Aww! More please!
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