Logs:Turnday Repercussions
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| RL Date: 13 January, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Ghena, Knioth, Teisyth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Ghena comes to thank G'laer for her turnday gifts and build some bridges. |
| Where: Teisyth's Ledge and Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 10, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aseana/Mentions, B'gherio/Mentions, Gaelan/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, Gheara/Mentions, Giorda/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Leara/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| Teisyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr A broad and welcoming ledge, wide enough to accommodate two medium-sized dragons slants slightly towards the Bowl, turns of landings on its edge having worn the stone down to a smooth finish. Along one side of the ledge a rocky outcropping hugs the outward curve of the ledge, providing some shelter against wind and rain for a tiny terraced garden. Currently, the beds contain a variety of herbs, sturdy plants that in the right season give off the heady scents of sage, rosemary and thyme. The wide maw of the weyr opens up onto a fairly standard couch-space, with hooks in the walls and a storage container for dragon-care equipment. A sturdy woolen curtain separates couch from weyr to keep out the elements. Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr In clear weather, sun dapples the floor of the southward-facing weyr and reflects prisms of light from the fine glass that fronts wall after wall of neatly carved bookshelves. Empty now, but for a few volumes tucked up on a shelf, clearly this weyr is a bookworm's delight, all ready to welcome someone's collection of scrolls and finely bound volumes. The living space here has been sacrificed somewhat, cozy rather than spacious. There's enough room for a table and chairs in front of a hearth overhung with a precious maple-stained skybroom mantle, but the sleeping area is another nook carved into the wall, neatly laid with a comfortable double mattress. The linens are presumably stored in the lovely trunk set just to the side of the nook, a match in stain and wood-type to the mantle. Niches for glows are well-spaced along the tops of every shelf, the glow-holders made of interlacing strips of copper set with mica to give the light a mellow cast. All in all the space invites one to come in, curl up with a favorite drink and a book to read. Blue wings cast a shadow as the knight passes just above. « May I rest upon your ledge a moment sister? Mine wishes to speak with her brother. » (To Teisyth from Knioth) To Knioth, Teisyth's thoughts drift sleepily. It might be that she's dreaming that Knioth wants to come by, but she seldom refuses visitors, so the hazy permission comes with a wash of sensation. She's sleeping, dreaming of Knioth talking to her, but also of flowers, and rain, but good rain, warm rain, nice rain, and G'laer is nearby. Here somewhere. The silvery blue beast lands neatly, after having obtained permission (or as close as what might be permission from a sleeping dragon.) Ghena is free from her straps almost instantly, landing as softly as she can manage so as to not wake the sleeping green. She perhaps assumes inaccurately that her brother has been warned as she moves to the entry of the weyr and quietly calls, "G'laer? You awake?" She arrives only a few hours after dinner, so she can only assume that he's still awake. Though if Teisyth is any indication, she stops just short of entering the weyr proper. One simply does not wake their brother by appearing in their quarters. No telling what might happen. The ledge is deemed safe so she waits by the entry way. Teisyth's been sleeping extra lately. Probably because she's not her usual chipper self when she's awake and therefore all the better to sleep and spend time in dreams where she can flame just as good as the others. Maybe the green did get a sleepy message to her rider, just in case it wasn't a dream after all, or maybe sound just travels well enough to hear dragon alighting on ledge. G'laer appears by the dragon wallow as Ghena makes her approach. He's dressed down (that means he's undone a button on his shirt and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows). "Ghena." The greeting is simple, and the silence that follows more than his look is expectant. Let it never be said that Ghena is a mastermind, She's wearing that new belt knife, and she crosses the space between she and her brother, in what appears (to those used to such things) to be an attempted hug. "Thank you, and Teisyth for the turnday presents." A... hug. G'laer isn't unfamiliar with the concept, and perhaps it says something that instead of pulling off some marvelous self-defense move, he stiffly returns the gesture. "You're welcome. Sorry they were late." Beat. "Laghnei reminded me." Of course, this is not uncommon; Laghnei has ever been the Great Go-Between when it comes to G'laer and his other sisters. "Teisyth worried you might not like the knife or the salve." But surely she had no doubts about the gifts she gave: who doesn't like shiny stones and feathers? "I have them sitting on the workbench until I have a proper place to display them." She responds of feathers and stones with a grin, "I'm not sure where you got that salve but I've not had to deal with sore muscles ever since I started using it." She peers over to the green with a smile, "She's wiser than some might think isn't she?" "Gran taught me to make it." Their gran. Their shared gran. Well, one of two, clearly. Both of whom live at Crom, and with whom Ghena has probably had little more contact than visits a couple of times a turn. The Gran in question is Gran Gheara, one of Crom's herbalists. "Her recipes always work." The greenrider glances toward his lifemate at the question and then he rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "She has her moments." G'laer confirms before looking back to the bluerider, silent for a moment before, "Would you like to come in?" Ghena nods considering her brother, "Never pegged you for the gardens and homemade remedies type." Hesitation in her stance and voice before considering, "Only if I'm not interrupting anything." She's not pushing anymore at least so it's progress in the right direction maybe? "I did want to ask you about a few things, If you want to talk about them." That comment prompts G'laer's lips to widen just a little. They're still pressed lightly together and they're not exactly curled at the edges but the movement draws his cheeks up a touch. It's a precursor to a smile, if not a smile, yet. "Gran got her claws in me when I was twelve. She always said making boys play in dirt was the way to keep them out of trouble." He glances toward where the little herb garden sits on the ledge further out, "That's why I wanted this one. The garden. And the bookshelves." Which she'll see as G'laer turns and leads the way inside. Evidently, she's not interrupting anything significant. "You can ask," He permits after a gesture toward the small table and its chairs. "Something to drink?" Ghena she tilts her head as she follows him in, seating herself in one of the chairs. "Yes please. Do they keep you out of trouble?" The garden and bookshelves she must mean. She studies the room curiously if not wholly observant. "Not in the least. But working with plants is a good skill. It's satisfying." G'laer answers as he pauses by the table. "Water? Tea?" After a moment's thought, "Beer? Wine?" "Beer, please." With a smirk for his honesty. She responds before sucking in a breath, "I was wondering if you wanted to tell me about the twins?" A pause, "I don't even know their names, and I figured I should ask at least that much before they get here." G'laer moves to one of the nearby shelves and crouches to pull a stoppered bottle from one, pulling his own knife to break the wax seal and pop the top off before bringing it to the table and setting it before Ghena. Then he snags up a pair of mugs, filling one with water before he settles across from her. "I don't usually want to tell anyone anything." But. "But, that doesn't mean I'm not willing to if you can tell me what you want to know." Names are a starting place though, "Gaelan and Leara. A boy and a girl." "Yeah I know. I also know better than to push now." She responds when he says he doesn't like talking, but there's a smirk there. "Gaelan and Leara." She repeats, "How old are they anyway, and how long has Laghnei known?" There's no accusation, nor even the faintest hint of angst. "They're eleven." G'laer answers matter-of-factly. Of Laghnei, "I met Aseana when Laghnei was a weyrling. We were writing letters then. I was at my new posting, she was doing what we're doing now. New things for both of us. I asked her not to say anything to anyone when Aseana and I were handfasted. She came to wait with me while Aseana labored a couple turns later. So, from the beginning." The bottle is claimed with one of the mugs, and she pours some for herself. Mulling over the facts presented. "When they come back, I'll fly with you if you like." She offers before setting the half full mug down. A soft rumble from out on the ledge causes her to chuckle a little. "Do Mom and Dad know now?" G'laer considers the proposal. His brow furrows after a moment, "I don't understand." He starts with that, which is progress. "Why do you want to?" He twists his water-filled mug where it sits on the tabletop but doesn't drink. "No. I'm still sorting the fostering arrangements. I don't want Mom thinking she can sweep them up and envelop them into the clan." "They are family. You are family. It's what family does." She responds simply giving her brother a look of utter confusion as if this should be plenty enough answer. "What do you mean by enveloping them in the clan?" Briefly, G'laer looks uncomfortable. "That. Actually." He picks up his water, probably wishing it were something stronger, "Their being family... It's-" He shakes his head. "I left before they knew me." He says this slowly. "I show up once a turn with presents." If Ghena's are anything to go by, they're boring presents. "I consented to bring them here because this is where they'll get the best chance at getting apprenticeships arranged, or a job they want, or to Stand for a dragon if they want it. If they stay with Aseana, they'll be porcine farmers because that's all there is to do where Aseana is. I'm not bringing them here so I can be their father. I gave up that right a long time ago. I don't think them 'being part of the family' is going to serve them so well as forging a new family with their foster parents." And in his own ridiculous way, G'laer seems to want the best for them. "I see." There's a deep rumble from the ledge. Time to go. Some dragons have more sense than their riders. She sets the mug down. Doing her best not to appear angry. "Of course it's your choice since they are your kids, but I think mom and dad might be hurt by the fact that you want to write us out of their lives completely. You know what you're doing though." She responds softly before adding, "I best be going, Knioth is getting impatient for his oiling. Thank you for the beer and presents." She stands slowly, faking a smile even. Once more G'laer's brow is furrowed, "But." Then, "Wait. I don't understand." With a few small shakes of his head before he spreads his fingers, palm up, gesturing to the seat she's standing from. "But you all have never been in their lives. Why would it hurt anyone to continue to not be part of their lives?" He may be much older, but clearly there are areas where Ghena has more sense. "Most of us didn't know they existed. So we didn't really have a say in whether or not we got involved. That was your decision by never mentioning them." She explains pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She really doesn't want to fight, she's trying so hard not to fight or let emotions get the better of her. "I'm sure you wouldn't care if I had a life you didn't know anything about, you are compartmentalized in a way most people aren't. To me, to mom and dad, family does mean something - how else do you explain that they were a presence in our lives when they simply could have handed us over to foster families entirely? Eleven kids, with the same father and mother usually implies something of a very strong connection don't you think? And Gaelan and Leara are the first of the next generation. Aunts like to dote, grandparents too." "I might care. If the life were dangerous." Brothers are supposed to protect their sisters after all, right? But that's as far as he argues that point just now. "You know I had twelve turns living with Mom and Dad before you came along. Before it was made clear to me that for family honor, I had to leave to do the rest of my growing in Crom, in service." There's much and more that goes unsaid here, but Teisyth stirs in her sleep; it's not a secret to everyone. "They did hand me over to others to finish raising." Well, sort of. He reaches up a hand and pushes it through his hair. "Family means something to me, too." He says after a moment. "But these kids... They're just my blood. I fucked up any chance of them being family." He's not looking at Ghena. He's looking at his mug. What's more? His expression is actually showing something: shame. "People change as they get older, G'laer and no one is perfect, especially when it comes to being a parent. If Mom and Dad suggest something that isn't in the best interests of those two you will be here to put your foot down, and Laghnei and I will right along with you. But they aren't the same people they were when you were growing up with them." She studies him and something like understanding dawns on her, she walks over, moving to put a hand on his shoulder if he allows. "Ain't any of us that are perfect big brother. You haven't fucked it up so much as you think either." G'laer doesn't move under that hand. "You were pissed after not knowing about a niece and nephew for fifteen turns. Think how upset they must be." Not really knowing their father for their whole lives. "I'm pretty sure the only way to have fucked up worse with them is if I'd killed their puppies. Or mother. Or something." Which, thankfully, he hasn't. "Isn't the best thing I can do for them to give them a fresh start in the Weyr? Not hampered by all this emotional baggage and family clamoring to know them and make them feel welcome?" He's still not looking at Ghena but at the water cup. But at least he seems, genuinely, to be asking her for her opinion. Ghena's hand doesn't move, and she's quiet as she listens, "I didn't say it would be an easy road. All I can say for sure is this: In my own experience, I'm happier having had the opportunity to get to know you better, even if we fight like two turn olds. So I can only imagine that given the chance, they will want to know you way more than I do. It will just take time. The only other thing I will say is this, wouldn't you think they'd be better off with people who are going to love them without a doubt?" "Oh, come on." G'laer shifts out from under her hand so he can twist to look up at her. "If you're two, I'm at least six." Why, yes, that was a joke for all that it didn't particularly sound like one. Then, eyes and expression are suddenly as serious as they might ever have been seen. "Do you think we are those people? I don't know if I love them. I don't know them. Can you imagine having me for a father?" The way he asks it implies there are far better people for the job. Ghena laughs, "I would start with talking to the Headwoman, and Mom and Dad. You can't have them completely dependent on you or they might not last a week." See she's catching on to his G'laerisms. It's that or she doesn't want to have another discussion with Telavi involving favorite colors for loosing her temper. She moves to hug him again if he allows. "We'll figure it out, but I would wait until we have at least become senior weyrlings before bringing them here, gives you more time to figure things out." "I'm already talking to the Headwoman. About fostering them." G'laer's words are delivered carefully. There's a deeper meaning there: he hasn't decided yet that that isn't still the best course. So despite the lack of yelling in this particular discussion, it isn't one the ends with everyone happy and on the same page. The second hug is more awkward than the first. He does, however, add, "They won't come until after we're betweening competently." Which, by necessity of the order of training means at least senior weyrlinghood. "Any way it goes, whatever mistakes you make are your own to deal with Brother." She adds finally, before waving at him. No arguments, she's determined. "We'll talk again sometime." Maybe, she strides out and mounts, heading off for her own ledge, a bottle of oil, and to hang up that new punching bag she found in the storeroom. It's not until after Ghena's headed for the ledge leaving G'laer staring at his water, that he lets out a breath, and in the silence of his many-shelved weyr, he murmurs, "Mistakes that are eleven turns old." Then he reaches across the table and downs the remainder of what was in Ghena's mug before filling it again from the bottle. Teisyth is already dreaming, what's the harm if he gives her particularly vivid and energetic dreams? |
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