Logs:Pretty Things
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| RL Date: 21 June, 2013 |
| Who: Bria, Dal |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: N'muir/Mentions, Oreithiya/Mentions |
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| It's beautifully clear, today, and that means that although the air is cold, the solarium is relatively warm: a comfortable retreat. Dal evidently finds it so, for he's making the most of the last of the afternoon light, sitting in a low chair with a letter spread out on his knees in front of him. He's reading, and rubbing reflexively at his still-bandaged shoulder, his arm still immobilized in its sling. He's far from alone, but there's an empty chair not far from him, recently vacated by a pair of riders now climbing down the stairs hand in hand. On her way up to the solarium, Bria is humming to herself. It's not a particularly quiet sort of humming, granted, and she might as well just whip out her voice to sing. But the humming is probably kinder to the various ears within hearing distance so she sticks with that. She's so considerate! "Hi!" she says to the pair of riders as she passes them. But they obviously don't all stop and chat because Bria continues on her way up. And oh look! A chair near Dal. She'll just take that. "Hi!" she says to him, too. Dal is pretty wrapped up in his letter, paying no attention to the humming, or even Bria's approach. When she greets him, however, his gaze lifts abruptly, and if he doesn't /smile/ (he rarely does), well, it's a friendly not-smile all the same. "Hello Bria," he says, using his good hand to fold up the scrap of paper his letter is written on, transferring it awkwardly to the pocket of his shirt. "You're in a good mood today, I see." Her big eyes fall onto the letter as Dal folds it up and tucks it away. "Of course I am. What's there not to be in a good mood about?" For her, at least. Bria does glance at the other's bandage briefly but when she speaks it's about the letter. "Who are you writing to? Family? Oh, is it a giiirlfriend back home? Or was this your home... I can never keep those things sorted out, you know. There's so many people to keep track of." If she's paying careful attention, Bria may notice the faint flinch that follows her mention of a 'girlfriend', but Dal's expression is otherwise unwavering. "That's a good attitude to have," he says, evenly enough. "A letter from my family. They're at Fort Hold. I'd intended to see them at Turnover, but it didn't end up being possible." Careful attention? Bria didn't even realize he was only reading a letter and not writing one so that's right out the proverbial window. "Oh! Family. I should probably write to my family. I mean, now that Lord Astivan is all, you know, decided and stuff, they're probably wondering where I went and why I'm not back home." Bria glances at her feet but she doesn't go so far as to scuff her toe against the floor. Instead she just changes the subject. "I love it in here. The glass is so pretty and I like how much warmer it stays when the sun is shining." "You... haven't informed them at all?" Dal's disapproval is only faint, the kind that /implies/ rather than spelling it outright. But she's changing the subject, and so, even if there's more he /would/ say, Dal lets it go, and sends his gaze tracking up towards the glass ceiling. "It's beautiful," he agrees. "I'm half afraid to touch anything, for fear of breaking it. I suppose you must be more used to such fine things." There's more that Bria might say about it, too. Her almost ever-present smile falters for a few moments at some internalization. But a glance upwards lets her refocus on happier things. "Isn't everyone used to seeing things like this? Ships are beautiful." She's clearly never worked near them. "And I love being able to watch the water. And the sky for that matter." She must be forgetting that people didn't make the latter two. "So how are you feeling? You still get to stand, right? It would be just awful if you couldn't. I bet dragonriders get to have glass like this all over their weyrs." "Fishing boats are smelly and covered in fish," says Dal, showing amusement around the corners of his eyes, and even the corners of his mouth. "And even the others... I find the orchards and meadows, and the river, of Fort Hold beautiful, I suppose. I know there are beautiful things in the Hold itself." But clearly he has less experience with /them/. He's rubbing at his shoulder again, thanks to her mention of his injury. "As long as it continues to heal well, and the eggs don't hatch /too/ soon, I should be fine. I'm hopeful. I... would imagine this kind of glass would be too expensive, surely, for most dragonriders." The way he says it, it's as though he doesn't want to disappoint her. "There are lovely things in Fort Hold." Oh, yes, there are. But Bria is holding something back about Fort's loveliness. She's not very good at anything even vaguely resembling subterfuge. Fortunately Dal gives her other things to consider. "I hope they take their time, then. I wouldn't want you to miss such an amazing opportunity. And I bet dragonriders can get whatever they want. I mean, they're *dragonriders.* Once I'm a weyrwoman, I'll make sure that they can all get everything they've ever wanted." Dal is a little more observant than Bria is, and well able to put one and one together to make two; he gives her a lingering glance, and it's pretty obvious that he's debating over whether to say something. But the last of her comments makes him actually smile, however faintly. "Good for you," he says. "I suppose it's a good thing, to have goals. Will you go back to Boll, if you don't Impress? The Weyrleader said, the other day, that we should really decide in advance." Blink, blink. Bria stares blankly at Dal for a handful of moments there. Then she looks outright uncertain. "I... I guess I haven't really considered the possibility that I won't Impress. Do you really think I won't? I mean I guess Oreithiya has stood like ten times now and hasn't Impressed. Oh, my. I don't know what I'll do if I don't. Are you going back home if you don't? I'm sure you will, though, so long as you're healed." Poor Dal looks immediately apologetic, opening his mouth to say something, no doubt something reassuring, and then closing it again when she actually speaks. "I think you've every chance of Impressing," he promises. "You wouldn't have been invited to Stand if you hadn't. It's... I think we're just encouraged to have a backup plan, just in case. I'm still not sure what I'll do. There are... complications." "Well... If we both don't, maybe we can go somewhere together. Like adventures. I bet we could buy a pair of runners and do whatever we wanted. Or maybe go to another Weyr and see if we can stand there." Right, because Dal and Bria are totally BFFs right now, right? It's possible that Bria has met few people that aren't outright mean to her that she can't turn into a BFF. "What sort of complications, anyway? Do your parents want to marry you off, too?" Dal's mouth curves into /another/ smile for Bria's idea, albeit one that trails off at her question. "That sounds like fun," he says, though it's almost certainly out of politeness. "It's - no, they don't intend to marry me off. I've already been married... I have a son. If it weren't for him, I would certainly stay here, I think, but... I will have to give it some more thought." "Oh." Bria deflates somewhat at what he says. It's out of sympathy and surprise more than anything, though. "Oh, my. I had no idea you had a son. But why-- Shouldn't you be with him and not here? *Is* he here? Where's your wife?" She lifts a hand to cover her mouth a moment later, except it doesn't keep her from saying, "Oh, she's not..." She doesn't say the *word* but she doesn't really have to, does she? /Awk/ward. Dal looks as though he'd like to sink into the floor, and certainly keeps his gaze well away from Bria; he doesn't really need to answer the question, either, does he? "He's with my parents," he explains. "They've agreed to look after him, for the time being. It was... I was glad, a little, to get away, and try something different. But I ought to go home to him, yes." Since she has no children of her own, Bria can't be *too* judgmental. Besides, she's still busy being sad about his wife. "I'm so sorry. I think that makes sense. Wanting to do something different. And if you *did* Impress, you'd be able to give him everything that he wants and more!" And Dal and his son would live happily ever after, obviously. Dal's mouth opens, and he hesitates. Maybe it's just that it's easier to agree than not that has him saying, "Yes. If I Impress, I anticipate he'll come to live here, with me, in time. Though, of course, Fort Hold is not all that far away - it would be easy to visit. We'll see. It's difficult to try and plan anything until the hatching is over." "How old is he? Your parents live at Fort Hold? That must be nice. Unless you don't like them very much, I guess. But if they're willing to watch your son, it can't be all that bad. My cousin and his parents don't get along very well. I bet they wouldn't do that for him. Well, his mother might..." When Bria realizes that she's babbling, she pauses, flushes just slightly and then goes silent. For a second, at least. "Everything will be just fine. For everyone, I'm sure." Babbling doesn't seem to bother Dal, not much. "He's three," he says, promptly. "No, they're lovely people, and I'm very lucky to have them, as is my boy. I - yes, everything will be fine, I'm sure of it." Even if, logically, he probably isn't. After all, they can't /all/ Impress. The sun is beginning to disappear, enough so that it catches Dal's attention, and sends it up towards the glass. "I should get back to the barracks. Shall I escort you?" Her gaze, too, shifts up briefly to the glass, thoughtful in her own way. Dal's offer to escort her back to the barracks is enough to have her beaming again. "That would be wonderful, thank you. You're so kind. You'll impress bronze for sure. Maybe one day you'll even be my Weyrleader." That's completely innocent. She doesn't seem to realize what other things that would entail right this second. She's simply convinced that Dal is a gentleman. And that's just how bronzeriders are, too. Dal may not have the /whole/ picture, either, but he clearly realizes more than Bria does; it makes his expression rueful, even awkward, but not so much that he can't offer her his good arm as he stands. "We'll see what happens," he says, evenly. "M'lady." And off they'll go. |
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