Logs:Questions of the Heart
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| RL Date: 6 July, 2011 |
| Who: K'del, Iolene |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Iolene has yet more questions for K'del. This time, he's the only one she can ask because he's the only male figure she knows that has not seen her 4 year old self run around naked on a beach. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Elgin/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions |
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| The clutch hasn't happened yet. Really, it hasn't. Tiriana is still pregnant and Iovniath is still fat. Days before that, but not so long after their last encounter, Iolene is just one of a small group of exile youngsters, ranging from ages eight until 15, though Iolene is just a wee bit older than 15 (at least physically), staring at some weyrfolk skating on ice. It's a beautiful winter day, one of those clear skied sunny ones with the sun's light setting the snow aglitter like diamonds. The world is still idyllic, at this point: it's before K'del's anger with Taikrin, before his frustrations with the exiles, before, before-- before lots of things. With the weather reasonable (for once), K'del is apparently skiving off for the afternoon, heading towards the lake with a pair of skates slung over one shoulder, his woollen hat slung low over his ears. He doesn't hesitate at the sight of all of those exiles, but steps instead towards one of the icy boulders - something he can lean up against in order to put on those skates. While the younger kids are still oohing and aahing over what appears to be magic -- walking, or rather sliding, on water -- Iolene's tuned to glance about her surroundings. It's something she does occasionally, a tic or a trait, whichever, that keeps her abreast of what might be coming after her. Or in this particular case, just who might be approaching. So, spying K'del isn't too difficult, though the slouched hat over his ears makes her stare quizzically just a beat longer before recognition sinks in, but for now, the young teenager allows the slacking Weyrleader his space. Hey, even elders need their personal time now and again. Given their last conversation was only a couple of days ago, it's not really surprising that when K'del glances up, he ends up with his gaze squarely on Iolene, probably the only member of the group he recognises by name. "Afternoon," he calls, with a distinctly casual air: not too friendly, not too remote. He bends again, adjusting the leather straps that keep the skate attached to his boot, wiggling his foot experimentally before he reaches for the other. Caught staring, Iolene's cheeks are quick to turn pink, a different hue than the one caused by the chill in the air. In a way, it matches the pink wool hat smashed over her blonde curls. Her, "Hi," is a little sheepish, but still pitched to carry to the Weyrleader, and somehow, by greeting her, she takes it as a sign that it's ok to approach, despite the lack of complete friendliness. So those booted feet of her traipse through the snow between them while he reaches for his other skate, and soon, Io is planted squarely in front of the Weyrleader. "Can I ask you a question?" As if he's ever denied her the opportunity to ask something. Without glancing up, K'del asks, "Another one?" There's a hint of amusement to his tone, and should Iolene look close enough, she'll see it in his expression, too: he's smiling. "Got to wonder if you'll ever run out, Iolene." Beat. "Of course. Of /course/ you can ask me a question. What's it going to be, this time?" Finally, he glances up, aiming to meet her gaze with cheerful equanimity, his hands stilling on the buckles of his skate. "Never," is her unrepentant response. She even manages a smile for the Weyrleader, though it's not quite as amused as his. "Do you know- well, I would ask Jaques or even Tom I guess. Maybe Elgin. I don't know. But I don't really want to ask them. But," the blonde girl fidgets, her leg lifting so her toe might draw patterns in the snow immediately before her: these little arcs that keep getting deeper for her lazy swinging. "If you like a boy, should you get him presents? I think I should. I get other people presents, but I think... I think he might think it's silly. He's kind of a serious boy. Man. Bo-.. Man I think." That 'never' makes K'del laugh, dropping both hands so that he can use them to brace himself against the rock and give Iolene his full attention. The names obviously don't mean much to him, but he seems, somehow, slightly pleased to have been asked-- though the question itself makes him blink in very obvious surprise. "I--" he begins, stumbling over words that don't actually make it out before, "Uh. Guess it's all about the right kind of presents? Like... I appreciate a gift. Sometimes. But you can't make it look like you're chasing him too hard; it might freak him out." "You're," and here's the big stamp of approval, "The only one I don't know from before. I mean, who doesn't know me from before." A slight dark turn shadows her face and wrinkles her nose. "I have a feeling they all still think of me as a tag along little sister and I'm not. /Really/, I'm not anymore." Iolene rambles after K'del advises, to the point it's questionable she actually took in anything the bronzerider said, until a purse of her lips precedes a thoughtful, "But what if I know he likes me just as much? I mean. What if we're already kind of... sort of... Maybe? Together?" Which is so not certain /at all/ and somehow aware of this, Io's expression suddenly takes a turn towards absolute, youth-filled misery. It's hard to tell exactly how K'del takes that particular reasoning, since it doesn't linger upon his expression or in his stance for very long. What /does/ linger is the faintly panic-stricken expression that follows, as Iolene's own turns towards misery. He reaches out a hand, evidently intending to put it on her arm or something, though it stops short, hovering. "Oh, Iolene," he says, quietly, sympathy etched deep into his tone. "Don't know if I'm really the best to advise you, but-- you could talk to him. Work out where things stand. Be upfront." "We kiss a lot. Sometimes." Infrequently, and in explaining this, Iolene lifts her chin again, finding not only K'del but that hovering hand and impulse decides to it out of its lonely misery by reaching out to clasp it in between two of her mittened ones. The mittens are pink too. "When you kiss a girl, do you mean it? Or is it just how all boys are? Grams told me boys would try to kiss me and I shouldn't let them until I was right and ready to be married. And I didn't until we came here and then Turnover and then things just happened and now I don't know what to do, but I think I like him. I'm pretty sure I do. And I just thought, since you're like an elder here but a young one, you might understand better than Cason," can you imagine that conversation, "Or Viremi. And if they ever found out, they might try to marry me off to someone like Xoami and that would just be tragic. We'd never be able to have kids because I'd keep kicking him down there because he's being a pain." Throughout, his hand clasped in between hers gets squeezed as her rambling gets more and more emphatic. "Is that what you would do? Be upfront? Are girls allowed to be upfront with boys?" That torrent of words seems to largely overwhelm K'del, though he doesn't draw his hand away: indeed, he folds his hand over on to one of hers, squeezing gently. "In a weyr, girls are /encouraged/ to be upfront with boys," he tells her, firmly, answering the easiest thing before even making an attempt at tackling the rest. "You're not on the island anymore, Iolene. You don't have to get married because someone tells you to; you don't have to get married at all, if you don't want to. If you want to fool around with this boy, or anyone else, that's no one's business but your own. Just-- don't forget that boys here don't necessarily think about settling down with someone, just because they've been fooling around with them." That last bit is more awkward, much more hesitant; his cheeks have gone faintly pink. Another flood of words seems impending, but then K'del turns awkward. He turns pink. Iolene blinks, piqued to these changes in this man she has chosen to confide her girlish woes in. Her tongue hesitates at her chapped lip, wetting them, taking the time to think. Carefully, the young girl's rich voice ventures into a, "Were you- Are you that kind of boy?" Her fingers about his hand twitch, the slightest flutter, as if they might just snatch away depending on his answer. K'del's expression is pained. "Like to think of myself as a /man/," he tells Iolene, which is clearly a way of stalling for time, one that he continues over the space of several silent seconds. Finally, "Guess I've fooled around a lot. But-- only with people who knew that, and that's all they wanted. It's important: you don't fool around with people who want more than that; you don't /fool/ them. I have two boys, less than three months apart, with two different women, Iolene, and I'm not ashamed of that. And neither are their mothers." The Weyr's been a lesson in life in more than one way and hearing of Weyr lifestyle versus knowing someone who actually partakes in it are two different things, leaving Iolene quiet. "Did you love the women? Or was it just cause you like-," a beat, but there's no other way to describe what she wants to say other than the word itself, "Sex? Is that why? Or? I don't understand." Her hands have not snatched away, but her toe has stopped making divets in the snow. "It's--" K'del struggles to find the words, and goes silent again. Finally, he reaches out his other hand, evidently aiming to peel one of Iolene's away from his, so that he can hold one of hers in each of his and squeeze them both as he tries to explain. "I love Milani. She's-- the closest thing I have to a weyrmate, I suppose. Avey's just a friend. But sure, it's about sex. I like sex. So do a lot of people. And sometimes... there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself with someone, as long as you're both on the same page about what it means. Not everyone feels that way, and not everyone needs to. That's why it helps to talk to people, and lay out straight what you want." And then he laughs - rueful, wry. "Most holders find the weyr an immoral place, too. It's okay." "I li-," about to confess something, Iolene abruptly clamps down on her lower lip. "It seems complicated. Your way. But I don't know many people who are happily married. None of my friends seem to be. Seani and Tom, and Jaques and Evie... And some of them aren't even married yet even though they're quite old. Well, older than me. Dev always said it was cause the Bloodlines were harder to match these many generations in. And you seem happy." Slowly, she works aloud, just how she feels about what K'del has shared of his life. "So, you think I should just tell him how I feel? What if I have? And then we ended up kissing some more? What then? Does that mean... is it... does it mean? What does that mean?" There is just something so wrong about K'del advising Iolene on such matters of the heart. Just wrong. Wrong - and he's clearly so, so aware of it. It's in that flush, in the awkwardness of his stance, the way his gaze flicks from Iolene's towards the ground and then back up again. "Everyone's different," he elects to say, carefully. "Some marriages work beautifully. Some don't. You-- just have to work out what works for /you/." He swallows, taking a deep breath before he can add, "You can try? Force the issue. No more kissing until you talk about what it means. It's just--" If his hands weren't occupied, he'd probably try and run one through his hair right about now. Instead, he takes in another breath of air. "Lots of teenage boys are pretty awful at this stuff. Sometimes, sex is all they can think about. Just-- be careful." He probably means with her heart. Which is sweet. Iolene finally looks down to see he's taken one of her mittened hands into his, head tilting with an odd sort of curiosity. "He's not a teenager," is all she has to say about her boy-slash-man-slash-person. "I don't think I have to be very careful. But I'll try to remember that." The last is added too kindly, perhaps a little condescendingly in that innocent way where youth believes they know more of this world than those older and generally wiser. "Thanks. You're good at answering questions. Even hard ones." And for her, apparently this entire conversation was much harder than anything leading up to it. She'll even gift him with a bright smile, cheered somehow by what K'del has said. It's most likely mangled itself in her brain to fit into any rationalization she'd like. "Where can I- we- get skates?" The way K'del's mouth moves, opening and closing and contorting in various shapes, there's something else he'd very much /like/ to say, and it probably has something to do with the age of this unknown man-slash-boy. He settles for saying nothing, however, nodding seriously as he assures her, "Any time. Glad I could be of use. I'm sure you'll be fine." If he's not so certain, he's trying not to let it show too much. "Skates? In the storerooms. There should be a whole stack of them - you just need to fit them to your boots. Plenty of people'd be willing to teach you how." "Oh!" It's that easy. Iolene looks pleased and turns to run off, only remembering to turn when she's already five steps away. "Thanks!" Her angular face is lit up with a luminous cheer, made brighter by the toothy grin. "Thanks for everything!" The forgetfulness of their different statuses in this world is but momentary. Forgiveness is much easier. And somehow in the jaunty wave she offers the Weyrleader on his way towards skating, there's a little of the Io left behind long ago on that rocky island. But then she's off again, squealing at the younger kids who are still watching avidly and it's only a few exchanged words before there is a /mass/ surge of exile youth towards the lower caverns. For all that K'del manages a smile after Iolene, the way he watches her - and the rest of the exile youth - go, he's not entirely happy with how that conversation turned out. Words of wisdom... clearly something he's going to need to work on. It does not, however, interfere with his final check of the skates and then a lunge out onto the ice. Afternoons like this one /do/ need to be taken advantage of. |
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