Logs:Forgive and Forget
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2014 |
| Who: R'hin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Hraedhyth sears Leiventh, Telavi takes R'hin where he needs to go. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Bristia/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions |
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| Just because there's a celebration going on to welcome High Reaches' newest eggs, does not mean the weather is cooperating. The snow is thick on the ground, and the cold wind has been a constant presence most of the day. Now, well into the evening, it's nothing short of icy. The weather is perhaps not so much an impediment to dragonhide, but for a certain jacket-less Savannah Wingleader, it's a hard slog across the bowl, which might make it strange that he's running in a way that suggests he's impervious to the elements. Telavi at least is dressed for it, all muffled up in a way that absolutely does not mean she and her companion can't chatter; the running figure draws her attention as things out of the ordinary tend to do, but it's only when she recognizes who it is that she gives her friend a one-armed hug and tells her to go back in without her. At first she walks normally for such conditions, but after a few moments-- hair rising on the back of her neck? her friend moving on with only the one backward glance?-- she picks up speed as much as the ice permits, heading not for R'hin but where his direction says he will be. Where is R'hin going? His destination might be a little difficult to determine since he stops, abruptly, changes direction as he catches sight of Telavi's friend, and again when he notices Telavi. His demeanor lacks his usual lighted humor; his expression is tight, voice a mixture of brittle and -- for him -- unusually demanding as he intercepts Telavi (or she does him): "Take me to my weyr." In another circumstance it could be a proposition, but his expression says otherwise. Highly capable of arguing anything under the sun, this time Telavi doesn't, and not just because they only have the moons to go by; her eyes widening, "Of course." No questions asked, not now. Solith had just settled, but she consents to return for them at her rider's insistent call, and her landing is that much more careful for the ice and the situation's seeming volatility; if the pair has their way, it'll be mere moments before they make it to that familiar ledge. Certainly, her Wingleader doesn't seem given to explain -- his movements and his demeanor seeking to hurry the pair up, quick to climb up after them. R'hin isn't immune to the weather, though, and his shivering can be felt in the time it takes for Solith to land again. Saindyth isn't present on the ledge, though Leiventh is, pressed into his wallow, a tight, still ball. This isn't particularly unusual except for the speedy, heedless way R'hin slides off Solith and hits the ledge to make it that much quicker to the bronze's side, pressing hands and, indeed, his entire body against the bronze's hide. He's muttering under his breath, all but inaudibly. With Saindyth gone, Solith doesn't immediately vacate but rather follows her unheeding rider towards Leiventh and R'hin, moving low to the stone with her wings pressed uneasily against her sides. Tela's staring after her ordinarily collected wingleader; then, with a look at Solith to keep an eye on things, she makes tracks for the riders' area in search of a blanket to bring back. Any will do. Leiventh doesn't react to Solith's presence, not even with a subtle hint of wintry winds: he's silent, like a patch of static. There's the faintest of movements from the angular bronze, in reaction to R'hin, a fleeting sense of distant presence, like a door being briefly opened and just as quickly slammed shut again. Telavi's been in the left side often enough for wing meetings to know where the glowbasket is and to roughly know her way around to find whatever she's looking for. That too is strange; it adds flecks of yellow to the hue of the younger dragon's eyes, and even such a fleeting sensation of himself must be somehow reassuring. When Telavi returns, she's still carrying the glows; the blanket; and a flagon of booze. It was easier to find than water. While the greenrider moves quickly towards the other pair, her footsteps wind up slowing without her; it's more gingerly that she finally, after a look up at Leiventh, closes the distance to bronze and rider with the intent to at least lay the blanket over the latter's shoulders. Rider is just as still as dragon, and just as unaware -- at least until R'hin feels the blanket touch his shoulders, making him jerk upright in surprise. Pale eyes narrow into Telavi for a beat -- worry and strain warring with a quickly suppressed anger before it's misdirected. After a beat, he tucks the blanket around him, slouching back into his lean against his dragon's side, exhaling. Silence for a long while, then, almost inaudibly: "When I was a weyrling, I used to resent that the first question anyone asked me was "How is Leiventh?", like how I was didn't matter." In that first beat, Telavi reflexively steps back as though pushed; she lowers her gaze but doesn't leave, hasn't left by the time he first begins to speak. She doesn't glance back at Solith. She does uncap the flagon, its scent rising in the air with his words, and her eyes rise to R'hin too. It's, perhaps, easier when R'hin's head turns away, back to watching Leiventh -- not that the dragon's moved at all. A long silence that is not so much contemplative as distracted, then he continues in a low voice: "I still think it's a stupid question, but for entirely practical reasons: dragons forget. It's the rider that remembers." When he turns to Leiventh, so too does Telavi. She sips, only. For the rider, remembering-- she sips again, and then moves close enough to hold the flagon within reach, wary of sudden movements that might lead to a spill. It's her unvoiced, 'Yes.' R'hin's attentiveness is, perhaps, overestimated by the greenrider, given it takes a good minute for the held-out flagon to register and for him to actually make a move to take it. He takes a gulp -- just one -- and hands it back, silently. A closer step, not close, meant she didn't have to brace her elbow too soon; now Tela runs her finger over the flagon's lip and stoppers it once more, holding it now in the crook of her arm. It might be too soon to speak; so, she keeps her voice muted, or maybe it's that way on its own. "What is it?" What was it. Quiet, quiet. Even now, R'hin doesn't seem given to speak plainly; he exhales a breath and mutters rather obliquely, "Me." "'You'..." gets the slightest uptilt, there at the end. "He's paying, as he often does, for me. I wonder, sometimes, if they regret--" R'hin inhales sharply, looks at Leiventh, and goes silent, still again. Telavi's color flees from her cheeks, leaving her not so much pale as muted that much more; "...Us?" Some have more cause than most, but then a vibration moves within the air, so quiet as to not entirely be sound. Solith. A response is not verbalized by R'hin, but perhaps implied by the silence that follows. Murmured, eventually: "They forgive us, anything." Telavi still doesn't look at Solith; perhaps she can't, now. Her hand moves upward, as though it might rest between his shoulderblades beneath that blanket; it doesn't. She crouches, just as slowly, and sets the glowbasket down in a faint creak of reeds to stone, in the growing dimness of its now partially lowered lid. It doesn't need to be this bright. If he's aware of that aborted movement, it doesn't show; R'hin's probably too caught up to take note, regardless, shifting his weight where it rests against the angular bronze. The rustle of movement as Telavi sets down the glowbasket though, does get his attention, pale eyes half closed even against the dimmer light. Softly, "Tell me what you've been up to." Distract me, is the unspoken request. Looking up at him, she dims the light further yet, as slow and yet as inexorable as though she could, with just such a movement of her hand, slip sun and moons alike beyond the horizon. "Busy enough," she says, taking her time with it. Her voice stays hushed. But of all the things she might have said-- the latest update on how her laundry girl has settled in, such as it is, for no news often means good news; the progress of Lilabet, her protegee; the possibilities for another assistant weyrlingmaster; rearrangements in her personal life-- she finds herself saying, "I've thought about looking for my mother." R'hin's pale eyes are dull in the remaining light. "Why?" Why now, why her, just why. "No reason that's solid," that one word tinged with dissatisfaction, or perhaps disquiet. "I've caught myself thinking about her again." She doesn't speak again for two breaths, four, five; if he doesn't either, it's not as though she won't have a ripple of further words, perhaps confidential but less private, distractions. The wordless noise that comes from R'hin might be dissatisfaction with no reason, but it could just as easily be a multitude of other reasons. "Come and see me tomorrow afternoon." About her mother? For some other reason? Whatever the case it has the feeling of dismissal about it. "Yes." Telavi takes his cues in their impromptu forays, and she takes them now; she sets down the flagon by the basket before rising at last. Then there's, finally, the touch of her hand to his shoulder-- in lieu of a 'good night' at the very least before she turns to take Solith and go. The touch, even briefly, to R'hin's shoulder is enough to convey the tension hidden beneath the blanket. It's not unusual for him to forgo farewells, either, so the lack of such right now should be no surprise, though perhaps Solith's eyes are sharp enough to note that pale eyes track them until the pair departs, keeping his watch by Leiventh's side. |
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