Logs:A Fortuitous Encounter
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| RL Date: 30 July, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Issedi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, High Reaches Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Upset after her afternoon with Aughan, Issedi escapes the gather for some alone time - and runs in to Devaki. An infatuation is formed. |
| Where: Cove, High Reaches Hold |
| When: Day 11, Month 5, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
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| It's a short, easy walk to the cove from the main hold, and with all the people wandering about, it's not really that difficult to slip away down that path. That's clearly what Issedi has done, after being sent away by her fiancee: alone at last, something that is likely difficult for her to often achieve. She's taken off her shoes, and walks now along the rough shoreline, her hair blowing free from its earlier, elaborate coif, her skirts windblown and salt-covered. It's possible that she's been crying, but those tears have dried, now - instead, she's staring out over the ocean, her expression a commingling of misery and determination. Devaki's never been that huge a fan of crowds at the best of time. A gather only compounds things, so he's taking it slowly -- he's /at/ the Hold, content to explore for now while everyone's occupied at the gather grounds. This hasn't made his rider escort particularly happy -- the greenrider keeps grumbling about how he wants to get to the gather, that the food will be gone, how he wants to dance with a particular bluerider -- the complaints earn a sympathetic, absent nod from Devaki, though in reality he's barely paying attention to his 'guard'. Instead, he's focused on the various areas of the Hold, starting inside and now the outer areas, making his way slowly down to the cove, drawn no doubt by the sound and scent of the sea. He, too, is barefoot, and silent -- once his companion stops chattering -- padding up alongside Issedi with all the stealth of a lifetime of hunting. "I never imagined I'd miss the ocean so much," he says in a low voice, by way of announcing himself. So lost in her thoughts, Issedi actually, physically, jumps at the sound of Devaki's voice, spinning around on a bare heel so that she can stare at him with big, blue eyes. The wind has turned her pale cheeks pink, and now they turn pinker still - especially as, a moment later, comprehension seems to dawn. "You're one of /them/," she says, shock turning an already husky voice huskier still. "I'm not supposed to talk to you." That doesn't stop her from watching him, as her arms move to wrap around her slender shoulders. "I'm going to miss it, too." Devaki quickly reaches out a hand to help steady Issedi -- quickly enough that it'd be easy to suspect he did it on purpose just so he'd have the excuse. "Sorry," he says, a beat later, though he's sincere enough about the apology, his gaze flicking across her features with an inquisitive tip of head. "One of them? Yes, I was born on the island. You needn't be afraid of me, though. My escort watches closely," he gestures with his other hand towards the path where the greenrider loiters, arms folded impatiently. The islander turns attention towards the sea, breathing in deeply, before Issedi's words draw his gaze back. "Too?" he echoes. "You're leaving, then?" If Issedi seems surprised at someone being so bold as to steady her like that, she doesn't let it linger: her smile seems genuinely grateful. "I'm not afraid of you," she tells him, firmly, though her gaze does track towards that greenrider for reassurance nonetheless. Or perhaps it's just confirmation - her expression doesn't change. When she turns her gaze back towards Devaki, she, too, takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the salt tang before they open to consider the islander once more. "I will be. And Crom is a terribly long way away. I'm sure I will grow to love it." She's not, though: her words are too dull, to sad. Devaki's smile deepens, "Of course you're not. You don't strike me as the type to be needlessly afraid. And while I'm sure you've heard many horrid stories," there's a shift of his shoulders, "The truth is, we just want the same rights and freedoms everyone else does." He, too, is glancing towards the rider as he says that last. There's a lengthy pause, whether to enjoy the momentary silence, or simply because he's studying her sidelong, then finally, "Lady Issedi," it's hard to tell from his tone if he's only just now recognized her, because he pushes on, "I've seen, from the maps, that Crom is far away. But surely the Lord Aughan would be kind enough to allow you to visit your family as much as you want. I know I would miss my family dearly if I weren't able to see them." "I'm not," confirms Issedi, rather more firmly than is probably necessary, as though she's convincing herself as much as trying to tell Devaki. She can't, or perhaps /won't/, comment on those rights and freedoms, though a shadow crosses her expression, and she shivers - probably not from the cold. Being recognised draws a long low sigh, her expression apologetic even as she's straightening her shoulders and trying - failing - to look regal. "Perhaps he will," she allows, though her tone suggests she doesn't think it likely. "But a Lady has many duties, and Crom-- will have to be my home. My first allegiance." Missing her family just seems to make her look all the more miserable. "Your Lord can't find a match closer to home?" Devaki is sympathetic rather than accusatory, and a beat later, he's apologetic, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you at all. Please, let's start over. You can even pretend to be someone else, if that helps." He offers his hand and, with a faint smile, introduces himself, "I'm Devaki." Issedi looks, for a moment, as though she's going to cry again, opening her mouth to explain right as Devaki apologises. Her smile is small, but genuine, as she takes his hand in her own soft, delicate one, shaking it lightly - a gesture that seems somehow foreign to her, as though she's watched it many times, but never performed it herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Devaki," she says, after a deep breath. "I think I'd better still be Issedi, though. But Issedi who isn't dreading her marriage; I'm sorry. Is this the first time you've seen the sea since you left your island?" There's a hint of relief in Devaki's expression, perhaps due to the near-miss of a teary-eyed woman. "And you, Issedi," returns, a little smile offered in return, his fingers lingering over hers perhaps longer than politeness dictates before dropping free. Her words draw his gaze, and attention, back towards the sea. "The very first," he admits, and there's a slight hitch in his voice, pensive. "I think if- if we're ever allowed to leave the Weyr, I'll have to settle somewhere by the sea. Otherwise," and there's a low hint of amusement that creeps up in his voice, "How else can I tell my future children scary stories about sea monsters?" She doesn't pull away from his fingers, though her eyes drop to regard their conjoined hands in vague surprise for a moment, until his hand drops, and her own go back to wrapping about her shoulders. Though she sucks in a breath at his being allowed to leave the weyr, she can't help but laugh in earnest at that mention of sea monsters. "Will you really? My nanny only ever told me about ship-fish-- though once she mentioned a ship-wreck, and I thought it sounded amazing; she told us we couldn't be pirates, though, and I cried." Despite that, it seems a fond memory. "Oh, yes," Devaki replies, earnestly, pale eyes bright with amusement, "It was a big rite of passage on the island. We'd take the younger ones out to the nearest island and light a big bonfire and tell them the story of the sea monster. Then, when they were old enough, we would dare each other to spend the night on the point where the sea monster comes ashore." He shakes his head in remembrance, laughing. "My youngest sister, Kiami-- she made me stay out with her and sneak away so no one ever knew." He sobers up, listening to Issedi's own story with a wry smile, "We never saw any ship-fish out where we were. If we had, maybe we'd have been discovered sooner. And no pirates, either. You-- you really wanted to be a pirate?" He glances sidelong at her, perhaps a teasing note threaded into his voice. "That sounds like fun," says Issedi, tone etched in wistfulness. "Was there really a sea-monster? I suppose there can't have been. But when you believe something, even if you know better..." The smile she aims at the islander is genuinely warm. "I really did. Don't laugh! It seemed like you'd get to go and see everything, and no one would tell you that it wasn't appropriate. Because you'd have a long knife, see." The admission seems to bring out the shyness in her, and she ducks her gaze away, cheeks all pink. Devaki glances around, as if watching for anyone listening nearby, before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to Issedi, "There was, but it was normally either myself or my best friend pretending to be the monster. Sometimes even sweet little Io-- no one suspected her." He straightens, grinning. "Don't let it get out, though. The sea monster myth is a big deal for islanders." He seems intrigued with Issedi's explanation, and his grin, if anything, deepens at her fluster, undoutedly charmed. "Since you put it like that -- I can definitely see the appeal. Go wherever you want, when you want. See the world. Most people seem to want to be a rider for that, not a pirate. I like your idea, definitely." A beat, then he says, "Should you ever decide to become a pirate, promise me you'll hire me onto your crew? I'm a dab hand at hunting fish, so we'd never starve." Issedi's eyes brighten for that explanation, amusement obvious across her expression, though she holds back any actual laughter. "Wicked," she tells him, shaking her head, though she's clearly not serious. Of pirates, she pauses before answering, turning blue-eyed gaze back out over the crashing waves and the far-distant horizon. "Some would argue that there isn't much difference between a pirate and a dragonrider," she remarks, though it's followed, hastily, "Not that I agree. The weyrs serve us. If I /do/ decide to do so," she smiles. "I'm sure it will help to have a terribly dangerous /exile/ on my crew. It will make us seem quite dangerous, I'm sure. Though I'm afraid my father might track you down and have you executed." Something in Issedi's words draws Devaki's attention sharply. He inhales a quick breath, lets it out. "The Weyrs serve you?" he finally echoes, surprised and intrigued by that statement. "I hadn't... the Weyrs paint a different picture of things." His good humor is quick to return, however, and the description of him earns a pleased chuckle. "I'd have to practice my dangerous exile pose--" he puts his holds his hands above his head in a mock-intimidating way, trying his best to make a fearsome face that just looks more comical than alarming. "What do you think?" The latter comment earns a wry smile as he drops his pose. "Only if he could catch me. After all, I bet you'd have the fastest ship, right?" "Well, yes." Issedi seems surprised by the question, and very firm in her answer. "We pay them tithes for services rendered. During the Pass, they fought Thread for us, and now, they provide us with transportation, peacekeeping, and so on. How could they call it differently?" She's clearly sheltered - naive for a girl of nineteen, and rather more dreamer than thinker. "You'd scare everyone off with a pose like that," she's quick to agree, all smiles again. "I suppose I would! I'd make it the fastest. With a glorious crew ready to fight to the death for me. Though I'd rather they didn't." Devaki's listening intently to Issedi's explanation, obviously keenly interested in her take on things. "No," he says, slowly. "They come across as more... entitled. You provide tithes for them because they are owed it, as riders." He tugs a hand through his hair, casting a glance towards the sea, then back to the woman at his side, laughing wryly. "Okay, okay. It needs some practice. So, your fast ship -- what would you call her?" He's unaware of the fact that his escort isn't visible anymore. Maybe he slipped off to the main gather for a dance or two, or maybe he's just settled further up the path. Frowning, Issedi admits, "I've not had much occasion to talk to riders - not beyond pleasantries when they give us transportation - but that seems..." She doesn't have a word for it, and shakes her head, instead. "Perhaps I'm blinded by seeing only my father's side of matters." She hasn't noticed the departure of the escort, either - she seems wholly engrossed in this conversation, ignoring completely the irregularity of her being alone with a man, and an /exile/ at that. "I'm sure you'll find a glass somewhere and practice it until it's perfect, now, won't you? I-- I don't know. My father has a ship named 'Shaie's Glory' - that's my mother - but I think it would seem arrogant to name a ship after myself, and I don't know who else I could use." "Perhaps you should take the opportunity, while you're here." Devaki suggests. "If you're going to be around for tomorrow's festivities, I'm sure I could find a rider or two to introduce you to." It's subtle, indeed, though there's a hint of hopeful anticipation in his voice. He laughs a little guiltily at her accusation. "I must admit, it's still a novelty to be able to see myself. Some of the things that many people take for granted are all new to us islanders." He pushes his hands into his pockets, gaze drifting upwards as he considers. "Maybe something after the sea? Or the Hold, since you love it here so much?" he suggests. "Or... maybe even something like The Sea Monster. Strike fear in the hearts of your enemies?" Issedi looks eager - and then wistful, finally shaking her head. "I wish I could," she says, the regret audible, and apparently genuine. As it is, she's glancing back up and around, reassuring herself - and also probably terrifying herself - that they are alone. Including the escort, which makes her frown, though she doesn't mention it. "I'll be in terrible trouble if I'm caught with you; and so will you. Father - and Lord Aughan - would be horrified if I consorted with dragonriders. It's not appropriate." Despite this concerns, and a new edginess in her shoulders, for all that she's made no move to leave, she adds, "I can't even imagine all the things that would be new to you. We /do/ take them for granted. The Sea Monster it is. That seems appropriate, somehow." "But if they serve you," Devaki echoes her earlier words, and one might be able to hear a hint of relish, "Shouldn't you at least meet some of them? The Weyrleaders, at the very least. I'm sure I saw K'del around earlier." He does, however, take her words in stride, aside from the visible wince at the mention of appropriateness. "Then I'd imagine a turn around the dance floor would be entirely out of order. Luckily, I've no idea /how/ to dance anyway, so I'm spared the indignation of being turned down," the islander chuckles, rocking back on his heels. Uncertainty - and also pinkness - floods Issedi's expression, blue eyes darting from Devaki to her bare, sandy feet in rapid-fire motion. "I-- /ought/ to," she allows, finally. "As Lady Crom, I will no doubt attend hatchings, and other formal events where the Weyrleaders are present." She swallows, the sound audible despite the surf in the background. "I'd teach you," she says, just quietly. "If it were allowed. They-- they treat me like a child, still. All the things I'm not supposed to do. And I don't think being married will change it, because Lord Aughan--" She swallows again. "I'm sorry." "Perhaps if you suggested it to your father? It's a perfect opportunity to start, after all." Devaki says encouragingly. At her offer, he seems pleased, even with the rider that follows. "Well, maybe one day you can teach me. It's okay, Issedi," he's quick to reassure her, with a rueful smile even as he speaks her name rather familiarly. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger. Especially one you know you'll probably never see again." This seems to be invitation for her to continue, though whether or not she does, he appears sympathetic. Visibly torn, Issedi's gaze creeps back up towards Devaki, that flush still suffusing her cheeks. "I probably won't, will I? Which means I'll never be able to teach you - I would, though, if I could. Dancing is fun, though most of the time I don't really get to do it, because Braeden used to partner me in practice, and he's not here most of the time, now. It seems like most people are considered bad influences, sometimes. It's lonely." She sucks in a deep breath, then exhales, her gaze suddenly squaring on Devaki. "How do I know you aren't going to use anything I say against my father? He says we can't trust you, that you want to make us pay for something that may or may not have happened, turns and turns ago. Are you really working against us? Trying to hurt us?" "Braeden?" Devaki echoes, with a frown of concentration as if trying to recall his Harper lessons. "That's your brother, isn't it?" He presses a hand to his heart, and laughingly promises, "I promise not to corrupt you to the evil ways of the dastardly exiles, may the sea monster eat me if I'm lying." It's exactly the sort of promise a young child makes with all solemnity, though the islander doesn't quite manage to keep a straight face for long. Expression changes abruptly at her latter words, and he exhales a long breath. "Then don't tell me, Issedi. All I want for my people is some truth, some justice. I'm sure your ancestors didn't do anything, and there's nothing to worry about. But--" he frowns, his gaze distant. "We were put on the island for a reason. But we're /not/ criminals. Our history says that a Lord of many generations past placed our ancestors on the island to prevent the Council from rightfully replacing him. Is it true?" he pauses a beat, breathes out. "Yes. I believe it is." Issedi's nod seems to confirm that, yes, Braeden is her brother, and she /does/ smile at that laughing oath. But her expression turns terribly serious as she considers the rest of what Devaki has to say; she seems uncertain. It's likely rare that anyone has spoken to her that seriously, and that openly, at least in recent history, and she seems almost unsure as to what to do with it. "I don't know," she murmurs, answering, it seems, that last question which Devaki has already answered for himself. "I don't know if father knows, either. But," and her voice sounds stronger as she says it, "I don't believe you're criminals, either. When you say 'truth' and 'justice' what do you mean? I mean... /really/ mean? Some words, that make it all better? Or... something more concrete?" Devaki keeps his gaze on the sea, as if he draws strength from it. Or perhaps he's unsure how Issedi's going to react, and so it's easier to fix on that for the time being. As she says she doesn't think they're criminals, the islander exhales a slow breath and bestows a grateful smile on her. "That means a lot. Thank you." A beat, before he responds to her question. "I would... I would love for your father to acknowledge that we were wronged. Maybe provide some of us with some land to work. We don't want hand outs, but at the same time -- we can't return to our home, now. And not all of us... belong... at the Weyr. Our children- many of our children grow up in the nurseries with the Weyr children, learning their Tradition... forgetting ours." The rising tide works slowly, steadily, closer, but Issedi doesn't seem concerned about her bare feet, or the trailing, sandy hem of her gown. She accepts Devaki's thanks with a low tilt of her head, blonde waves bobbing about her face, though as he answers her question, she bites her lip, frowning in concentration. "That doesn't /seem/ so much," she murmurs, sounding almost surprised. "Except - I don't know what land he /could/ give you. It's all taken, really. Unless someone died without heirs, but I suspect you'd want more than that, if there were a lot of you." She smiles, just a thin, graceful line of a thing, adding, "And maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm not-- I don't-- people don't usually talk to me about things like that. What I think doesn't really matter, not to any of them." "There are- far less of us than there were," Devaki says, with a note of sorrow audible in his voice. "And many are content to stay at the Weyr. But yes, you're right. Your father's probably aware there's nothing to give us. I'm guessing that's why he tithed extra supplies to the Weyr in payment to keep us there." He says, voice deliberately neutral. The latter earns a surprised, then sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, slowly, holding out a hand in her direction, though he doesn't touch her. "You seem quick, and smart. You'll make a wonderful Lady Holder." "I'm sorry," breathes Issedi, though it's unlikely to be entirely new information. No doubt having an 'exile' right here, in front of her, has changed a few things in her head. "I suppose that's so. I didn't know he had, but it-- seems like the kind of thing he'd do. He's a good man. He /is/." And she is a loyal daughter, loyal enough that her cheeks turn pink again with her emphasised words. She eyes his hand, looking almost, for a moment, as though she'd like to reach out and take it with her own; she doesn't. "Thank you. I hope so. That's my job, after all - I ought to try and do it the best I can. I'll be a good, strong, benevolent Lady, and a loving wife and mother, and I'll learn to love the Crom valley as much as I love High Reaches. I /will/." "I hope so, Lady Issedi," Devaki says, gently, as he lets his hand drop back down. "Maybe I can write you," he suggests, "Your father didn't forbid you to receive letters from an exile, I'm sure. And I'd welcome the practice, if you'd indulge me? I'd love to learn more about your Hold, your Traditions. Some are so similar, and some are so different." That seems to surprise Issedi, who admits, after a moment, "I write to my brother a lot - I don't supposed they'd notice, if I wrote more often." It's like a light, brightening her expression immediately, and turning a face that is not actually beautiful into one that seems genuinely lovely. "Father bought me a firelizard egg, to make it easier. I'd-- I'd like that." Devaki looks pleased with her agreement, and there's something in his gaze as he studies her abruptly. There's no doubt he's noticed something about her suddenly, and it catches him off-guard for a moment, taking a breath before he picks up the conversation. "I don't... have a firelizard, to send messages directly to you. But I can probably send them down with the runners?" he suggests, hesitantly, looking around for the rider, then back to Issedi. "Are they useful, firelizards? How do you-- where do you get them?" Issedi gives him a quizzical glance for a moment, during that moment, but when it doesn't linger, her expression turns back to thoughtfulness, commingled with that smile. "They're very useful," she assures him, nodding enthusiastically. "I've had Tickle for two turns now, and-- it just makes things easier, to be able to send messages like that. Father bought mine; you don't really find them in the wild up here, because it's too cold. I think someone was selling them down at the gather." She hesitates. "It would be easier if you had one. Someone might notice, if I got letters. Too many letters, I mean. I--" She reaches for her waist, hunting around for her little satin pouch. "I have marks. Or would someone notice, if you--?" "Selling them? I don't... have the marks to afford one, I imagine." Devaki seems visibly disappointed, then at her offer, hastily holds up his hands, "Are you... are you sure? You're gambling a lot on someone you barely know. I would repay you, of course, but I don't earn much at all, so it would be... a while." Issedi's cheeks flush scarlet, but she's still scrambling in her belt pouch, eventually coming up with a handful of marks, none of them /enormous/ denominations though the sum total is not really small change. She thrusts them towards Devaki, insisting, "You seem nice, and I'd like to talk to you more, and this would be easier-- honestly, it's fine." All the same, she shoots a wary glance around her, adding, "I should go. Before someone catches me." It's definitely more marks than Devaki's ever seen... well, ever. He opens and shuts his mouth wordlessly, but he does accept the marks all the same. "Thank you," he murmurs, quickly dropping the marks into his pouch. He, too, looks around, then back to Issedi with a wistful smile, stepping towards her and reaching as if to touch her arm lightly. "It was... a pleasure meeting you, Issedi. I hope you can make it to the gather tomorrow, too. Even if I can just wave at you from a distance." Unconcerned about the marks - ah, the largesse of the wealthy - Issedi only smiles brilliantly at the islander. Her cheeks go pink as he steps forward, and as he reaches out to touch her arm, she pushes her hand at him, intending, instead, to squeeze his between her soft fingers. "You, too," she murmurs. "I mean-- it was a pleasure meeting you. I'll be there. And I'll write." There's time for that smile to linger for just a few moments more, and then she turns to flee, leaving her shoes half-buried in the sand behind her. Devaki turns to watch her flee, and, after a beat, turns back towards the sea to study it in quiet contemplation for a time. Later, as he's leaving, he'll find those shoes, and they too, will go with him when he eventually leaves. |
Comments
Iolene (Satiet) left a comment on Thu, 22 Sep 2011 06:53:27 GMT.
Cinderella left her shoes. :(
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