Logs:The Deed is Done
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| RL Date: 7 December, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Lilabet |
| Type: Log |
| What: Immediately after Lilabet is foiled and H'kon succeeds the two share a moment. |
| Where: H'kon and Madilla's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 6, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Raija/Mentions, Teris/Mentions |
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| How long has it been since Lilabet climbed up to the weyr in which her family live, only to be thwarted in her attempts to assist suicide? She's lost track of time, her little puddle of misery still balled up on the floor, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, face buried in her knees. It can't have been all that long; the tears are still falling, the sobs still wracking her body in shuddering shakes. If Arekoth is quiet when he lands, it's not for fear of disturbing anyone inside; he and his rider, both, share the silence. H'kon does not wait to dismount, however, nor move slowly once he's down on the ledge, walking through the couch, into the weyr, his hand a tight fist around the key he holds, expression made of stone. Until he comes upon a huddle of, "Lilabet." Full stop, though that fist holds tight as ever. It's not quite guilt that breaks the stony facade. Nor quite panic. But it's something related. Lilabet ought to be safely at Harper Hall, ensconced in whatever lessons second turn apprentices have at this time of the day; she's here, anyway, first freezing at the sound of footsteps and then uncoiling herself to stare up at H'kon with wide, blood-shot eyes. Her mouth opens, but if she'd intended words, they're lost beneath the choked sob that comes out instead. H'kon hesitates just long enough to get a good view of that face from above, the fingers clenched into a fist rippling around the key. Arekoth eases slowly into his couch, and it's possible there's a mental touch between man and dragon. And after that moment, the brownrider is moving forward and down, a slow and steady drop to kneel next to the teenager. Lilabet's eyes - eyes that are so like her father's eyes - follow H'kon as he moves, albeit in that half-blinded way that comes with so many shed tears. She manages a shuddering breath and then says, words broken by more of those choking sobs, "They won't let her die and I wanted to help and--" Her gaze slides away from the brownrider, head turning so that she can glance up towards that high shelf, the jar upon it. It's not that he's not listening while she's talking; H'kon's eyes are focused intently on the girl. (Arekoth's, too.) But he's also reaching a tentative hand forward, that one not gripping the key, toward the girl's arm. Eventually, fingertips will lightly graze, so long as she doesn't pull away. H'kon looks up to the shelf when Lilabet does. And nods, once, jaw clenching. Lilabet does not pull away, though it takes her a few moments - it seems - to actually notice those fingertips, attention drawn back by them; this time, the glance she gives H'kon is more focused. "I can't bear it," she says, very quietly. "I just can't. Mama would never--" H'kon makes no move to further that attempt at comforting contact, staying poised, kneeling, reaching. "Lilabet." Softly. "It's over." "Over?" Lilabet's voice quavers, uncertain. "Teris," states H'kon, softly, "may do as she wishes. Has the means." This time, it's not just that Lilabet is looking at H'kon, watching him: she's studying him, as if she can read the truth from him, just like that. Carefully - slowly - she nods, just the once. H'kon straightens up slightly beneath that scrutiny, re-setting his jaw, withdrawing that hand, just slightly, to be left hanging in the air between them. "She..." his eyes don't so much break contact with hers as waver in focus. "She was important to you." "She was my father's sister," is Lilabet's answer, though that in and of itself doesn't seem to be her explanation; it's more complicated than that. After a deep breath, she attempts to continue: "She was part of him, and I was part of him, and so we shared that. And I don't want her to be dead, but... but it was cruel. You... won't tell my mother, will you?" H'kon nods, faintly. Of course. Nods again, more firmly. Cruel. And then- turns, pivoting on the ball of his foot, and bracing on both knuckles, to lower himself down to be sitting beside Lilabet, facing the same direction. And there, he opens up that fist, at long last, the key still in his palm. The brownrider's head tilts, examining the thing. Surely, by now, some part of Lilabet must have begin to put two and two together: the missing key, H'kon's knowledge, his understanding. It doesn't stop her from opening her mouth, exhaling sharply, as those so-sharp eyes register the contents of his hand. "Thank you," she says. It's personal. H'kon nods, again. "It was the right thing." Which makes him pull his head back, almost a shrug, except with movement from the neck rather than his shoulders, and turn his head to consider the girl next to him. Lilabet, so serious, considers the brownrider in return. She nods - her own, solemn contribution. "It was," she agrees, sure beyond her turns... at least as far as this goes. Then, abruptly, with a hesitance that is much more true to her age: "I'm supposed to be in class. I... didn't tell anyone where I was going." H'kon's exhale almost elicits some sort of vocalisation. Almost. He pulls his feet in, preparing, his eyes moving out toward the couch, to his dragon. "Is that where you need to be? Now?" "I'd rather stay here," admits Lilabet, in a tiny voice, still on the floor, gazing upwards. "Just for tonight?" Please? "Stay," H'kon nods. One foot slides forward, and he looks from his dragon back to Lilabet. "We will see to it." He tilts his hand, pushing the key with his hand until he can have it between thumb and forefinger. "I would very much like to sit with Arekoth for a time before your sister and grandmother get home." The pause, where there might be specification on the second title. But it's left, instead, with, "If you like?" and a gesture of his free hand toward the brown. Lilabet's shoulders drop with silent relief; the nod she gives H'kon comes with a tentative smile, weary to the point of exhaustion, but also, now, quietly comforted. She hesitates, not over that title, nor over anything, it seems, except the determination of her inclusion in this exercise. It draws her to her feet, one hand wiping ineffectively at now-mostly-dried tears. "I'll be quiet," she promises. And, "Thank you." H'kon also gets to his feet, offering a thin smile to Lilabet. The first step, toward the couch, is halted, changed, that the key might be stowed. After that... relaxation into the quiet communion with Arekoth might not come immediately, but the man will find it, in his step-daughter's company, before any of the other weyr's residents return. And when they do, first Dilan, then Raija and Kallia, well. It is a family weyr, after all. By the time her brother gets home, Lilabet is composed, even calm, able to pass of her presence as a fun surprise; perhaps she's a little quieter than usual, this evening, but it's not enough to break the mood. Home really is where the heart is... even when Madilla's absence can be felt more keenly than ever. |
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