Logs:I Hate Myself
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| RL Date: 29 November, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Logs:A_Final_Demand. N'rov comes to save Shani from wallowing in self-loathing. |
| Where: Brieli and Iesaryth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 5, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: I'kris/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions |
| On what might be otherwise an uneventful spring afternoon, there's a rush of salt water out and across the distance, towards Vhaeryth. Iesaryth's waves are gentle, the sun bright on them, but something more sinister lurks beneath. She's /anxious/ for once, and the feelings that she sends along certainly aren't hers, but they might as well be; guilt and horror and something approaching self-loathing. This is not normal. There's a spray of near-panic, but it ebbs away - even so, « She's never been like this. » Not that the bronze is any more an expert on Aishani than she is, but everything is /wrong/. /Wrong/. On a bright clear day, no less. « She didn't steal someone else's klah, did she? » meant to be distracting, if with an underlying hook of a question: what happened? This, while N'rov extricates himself from other duties, for the first time using Hattie's name to speed things up: yes, it's something the senior weyrwoman wants him to do, yes, she said so, yes... only by then they're gone, about to reappear within High Reaches' skies. Iesaryth is a little mournful - for the warm weather she's leaving, and the duties she's returning from. Though the attempt at distraction is appreciated, it's difficult to stop thinking about it: « Svissath and his have gone home. » There's a finality to that, a weight that rarely intrudes on her light tone. By the time Vhaeryth is in the skies above, the queen is on her ledge below watching, waiting. /She/ doesn't look any worse for the wear, but she's not quite as lazy-relaxed as usual; she might pace if there were room. Grateful, even to N'rov with a quiet rumble, she won't impede either bronze or rider - because inside, things aren't quite right. There's light enough in the main room, but beyond glass beads, there's only darkness and a short, shuddering breath. She might not even know they've come. Home. Recognition comes from the bronze, though all the ramifications may not have come with it: there /is/ an inescapable sense that it must be better so, Svissath in the place that's /his/. Better, too, to have the skies freer: she might pace them, if she likes. Vhaeryth's landing is for once light rather than showy, letting his rider nod courteously (/concernedly/) to Iesaryth before pacing inside. But it's dark: he slows, listening, and speeds up to enfold her in his arms. But first, "Hey. Hey, it's me." Vhaeryth, sinking back on his haunches, notes: « He should have brought a towel. » It's a sad sort of agreement, but Iesaryth can agree; it's not something she wanted, to /keep/ the brown here, to feel all that trapped emotion. At least all she has now is the problems she chose, not that there's a shred of regret. But, « Perhaps. Better than a boat. » Hopefully, she won't drown them. The skies, though - they're welcoming and wide, and there's not the same need to be /away/ now, but she would rather fly that wait and hope. In the dark, Shani's curled up into a little ball in her bed, and even though it's /him/, she can't help but turn away, burying her face in one of the pillows. It muffles the sniffling a bit. But she won't push him away if he wants to hold her - she only shudders, shaking her head. When she speaks, it's a bit muffled too, but clear. "I hate myself." In that case, Vhaeryth noses in the direction of Iesaryth's shoulder, just at the base of one wing: she can go first, he'll go up too, they'll get some sun and some /moving/ done. Unless... she'd rather roam and have him play watchdragon? He can do that, for a little while. He even sizes up some passersby, his eyes a brilliant mostly-blue, like he'd growl at them if they get too close. That could be fun. He's the lighter, today, for his rider's concern, N'rov seated on the edge of the mattress where he can hold her, rub her shoulders, hold her some more. Softly, "But your hair's grown out." Iesaryth gives Vhaeryth's shoulder a little nudge in return, warmer for his solicitousness - even if she's not the one so upset. She does him the favor of shifting away and ahead before her wings rustle and spread to leap up and away, towards the distant mountaintops. Though when they return, she might have him do some growling. Why should Hraedhyth have all the fun? And N'rov's reply likely has the desired effect - where Aishani's shoulders were shaking from tears a moment ago, they hitch with the sudden laugh, watery and rough as it is. "I said I wouldn't-- I said I wouldn't do what someone did to /me/, but I couldn't find a reason..." She tries to slow her breath, finishing softly, "I feel like I don't know who I am anymore. And I feel terrible for even caring about that now." Then it's a plan. Vhaeryth, who flies sweep so often, who flies so much more just because he can, takes off towards those mountains like he /means/ it. No going around and around and around for him: they have a goal. /N'rov's/ current goal seems to involve fumbling around for something to blot her face with: evidently he's lacking his usual handkerchief, and it'll wind up being the corner of the sheet or his shirtsleeve if he can't find anything better. He listens to her, listens closely, and winds up asking, "Want... well, not /want/, but will you tell me what happened? How it happened. Specifically." So he won't have to guess. Iesaryth might still not /rush/, but she'll keep up with Vhaeryth if he wants to go go go - it's probably not a shock that she /can/ be fast, but it's rare enough. Whatever N'rov finds, Shani's not really in a position or condition to notice, or care. With a sigh, "I hate telling you awful things all the time, too. I'm amazed you don't hate it. I would." Maybe that's why she's still not looking up at him - that, or it's how puffy her eyes are. After a moment, a sniffle, "We had to decide what to do. And I couldn't stop myself from /saying/ it, even though I don't want to... be responsible for someone's death. Because..." He knows why; she doesn't finish. "So we told Monaco they could have them back if they carried out the sentence. And I know I messed up, because they're deciding when and how and who /knows/ when, but I thought I was going to throw up or pass out... And that dragon is going to /die/ because someone fucked his rider up a long time ago. But Iolene. But... everything. I hate myself." Her last is bleak; she buries her face back in the pillow. Not a shock, but it meets with some pleased surprise: Vhaeryth won't tamp it down for her, then. As much. "That's why I don't tell you awful things all the time," his rider tells her, affectionate as he pats while he still can at the face he knows by touch, and if he can't see Aishani's expression... well, she won't be seeing the depth of worry in those gray eyes, only what's underlying his voice. He listens, and listens, and listens, and rubs her shoulders sometimes. "Wish he'd thought about his dragon before he did it," he mutters, that voice still low. Then, "Do you hate him?" There's a glimmer, a sparkle on the waves for him. As much. Shani laughs again, the sound muted by the pillow she's hiding in, but she has to come up for air eventually, she has to turn to N'rov to cling to him and that affection, she has to look up at him - probably a mess, dark eyes troubled. But sadly, "Me too." Her arms around him, holding tight, "It's hard to hate anyone that broken. But that's not reason enough to let him go. Neither is my father." In a whisper, reluctant. "It won't bring her back." Awful mess. Clearly he'll have to toss her back! But, gazing down at Shani, N'rov doesn't even joke about that, nor does he when she pulls him close and he leans down into it. "I'm not saying reasons," he murmurs. "I'm not saying it would help. Sometimes we just," and the wave of his free hand is inarticulate, "get that way." It's not quite it, but he doesn't seem to quite have words for what /is/. He doesn't say much for a little while, then, "I hope it's the last time you have to decide... something like this." "I don't know why... this is different. It's not about me." Aishani will admit that reluctantly as well - is it any wonder she feels like she doesn't know herself? Curious, possibly looking to be sidetracked from this particular conversation, "What do you get that way about?" Then quieter; "Thank you. For that. For being here." Even if N'rov doesn't have much to say, his presence has her slowly calming, no longer crying... that much. Pulling back only enough to look at him, to rest a hand on his cheek, her expression is clear even in the dark - though for once, she'll say it: "I'd be... I don't know what I'd do if you weren't." "The stuff that isn't logical? ... There was this other kid, growing up, one of the places I was fostered. He'd /breathe/ and it would irritate me." N'rov slides a glance towards the ledge and the sky beyond. "I wonder if he's still there. I should go back, maybe, and see." On his dragon. His big bronze dragon. Has a smirk tinged his voice? If so, it's short-lived with her continuing like that, and he turns his head so her hand might cover his mouth, instead. Indistinctly, "then, /Want/ to help." Even if he can't make it right. With amused warmth creeping into her tone, "You should." Shani would. Maybe she's encouraging him because she /can't/, as there's likely someone like that in her past, with cousins and all. And isn't there /always/? Taking a deep breath - the first in some time, in and out slowly, she murmurs, "You are helping." Her hand slides down to his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, brief and bare though it may be. Still close, low, "I might sleep. If you can stay." Though it's obvious that the last thing she wants is for him to leave. "I might stay. If you feed me." But the way N'rov says it is like a promise, and he's already slouching down onto the mattress, fully clothed and getting to be late afternoon or no, reaching down with one hand to try and get at the closure of his boots: he has some standards. He can at least get those boots off before settling in with her the rest of the way. Maybe he /will/ drop in on the fellow sometime, but somehow, it can't seem very important now. "So easy to keep you happy." Aishani can slide over to make sure there's room. She can even have an air of apology about her for being tired just now, though she can't have been sleeping well since she'd discussed and decided. Though N'rov's boots in her bed are the least of her worries right now, she'll probably appreciate the time he takes with them later - though when he does settle in, she's quick to wrap herself around him. Maybe she'll drop off for a bit, maybe not; either way, she's more herself now. Which Iesaryth is no doubt grateful for. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sat, 01 Dec 2012 04:39:46 GMT.
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Aw. Poor Brieli. :< Hopefully the healing can begin soon.
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