Logs:Breakfast of Tears
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| RL Date: 4 April, 2015 |
| Who: H'kon, Lycinea |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Lycinea have a disagreement over breakfast while they're caved in. |
| Where: Cave-In, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Lycinea had been 'on duty' at the tunnel entrance when breakfast came through, as she typically was, because Irianke came in the mornings to see her and if she wasn't awake or wasn't woken, she'd sob the day away. Fortunately, today she got to see Irianke, so she isn't crying when she brings the food to the communal eating place, some distance back where there aren't as many rocks or quite so much dust. The narrow tray has bacon, eggs, and even real, honest to goodness sweet rolls. She's careful with her footing and places the tray before stepping back to sit down, one knee up to hug, the dress slipping from its habitual toss over her shoulder down between her body and bended knee. She wraps her arms around her knee and stares at the food, but doesn't move to eat herself. H'kon was up overnight at the rock wall; the weariness shows on him today, not that the deeper lines in his face are so easily seen in what light is available to them in this little space that has become an unwelcome (and increasingly smelly) temporary home. "Hm," and a nod of his head serve as his thanks when he reaches for a roll. He may be one of those the least bothered by the simple, effective foods being offered them. They are H'kon meals. Several bites are taken and chewed before he says to Lycinea, "You ought eat something." Lycinea flinches at the sound of his voice, her stare having taken her attention to something, somewhere that isn't here now, in this place. Her eyes jump to find him in the relative dim. "Can't. Feel sick." This is nothing new. Lya always feels sick. She stares at the food again, but doesn't move to get anything, even if in the quiet of the space, the loud complaint of her stomach can be heard. "This is not like to upset you," H'kon notes, looking over toward the tray, and then back to Lycinea, purposeful. "Part of your sickness may be a lack of strength." He reaches for a second roll, and this one the wingsecond holds out to her. H'kon holds the solution. It's, "Food." Lycinea's eyes follow the wingsecond's hand, to the roll, as it's lifted and then as it's held out to her. Her lower lip wobbles. She doesn't mean to threaten tears, it's just there on the edge of just about everything that happens here, with her. She's silent as she stares, perhaps trying to get some measure of command over that lip before asking, "Does it taste like dust?" H'kon takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. He tries a smile. (It looks a little painful.) He tries to relax. He answers, "It tastes like simple bread. Which it is." His voice, despite his best intentions, is not warm, comforting, fatherly tones. The lip, it's going again. She sucks in a shuddery breath and hugs her knee tighter to her chest. Lya looks like she's on the verge of doing something. Maybe she'll take the roll after all? H'kon doesn't press the roll closer to her, nor back away. He just stays as he is, and waits, his own roll, half-eaten, in his other hand, waiting too. It's nice he waited for it. The tears, they come now. Lya puts her face against her knee and her shoulders shake. There are even audible sobs! Misery, the perfect backdrop to a lovely breakfast. Whoever's calling this breakfast lovely... is not H'kon. He doesn't use such words. The brownrider leans back a little, and if his eyes roll, certainly it's an unconscious motion. He waits for a while as she sobs. He takes a bite of his roll. And, once that's swallowed, says, "Cry, so long as you eat also." It's not uncharacteristic of Lya to push back when pushed, even in moments of near-total hysteria. But the moments when she pushes back instead of surrendering to deeper hysteria can't be predicted. That she's up on her feet and snatching the roll out of H'kon's hand with a tearful glare at him might be surprising, but only if he wasn't expecting it. That she bites the roll once, tells him, "It tastes like dust," and throws it on the ground is probably just par for the course after that. Now it really will taste like dust if it didn't before. H'kon looks down to where the roll has been thrown. "Now it will," is the only chiding Lycinea will have from him. He moves back toward the tray, and from there takes a waterskin. This, he leans forward to leave, closed, on the ground near the girl. "Drink, when you can," is a final instruction. And then he's back to his breakfast, turning so that a shoulder is aimed at Lycinea. History has already proven that after such an outburst, Lycinea is inclined to go back to sobbing, worse than before. This isn't much different than any other time. This time she snatches up the waterskin. She might have thought to hurl it at H'kon, but instead she whirls herself around, sits down and sobs, with the waterskin against her chest. It's some moments before she reaches a hand out to feel around for the momentarily forgotten dress and pull it not her lap, like a spinner drawing in lifeless prey. Some moments later, the sobbing has subsided enough that sounds of gulping can be heard, interspersed between the remaining tears. |
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