Logs:Turnover Visits
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| RL Date: 17 June, 2013 |
| Who: Dal, Elise |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Elise drops in to visit Infirmary-bound Dal. It's turnover. |
| Where: Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, R'zi/Mentions |
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| In the days since the feline hunt, Dal's been kept in the Infirmary, though word is that his prognosis is good: that arrow didn't hit anything vital, and didn't even go all that deep. It's now late afternoon on the last day of the turn, and the patient is propped up on one of the cots relatively close to the front of the cavern, his right arm in a sling that keeps it close to his body. On the tray in front of him is a scrap of hide; he's presently using his left hand, his non-dominant hand, to try and scratch out a note. /Try/. It's quiet enough that the few murmurs that precede Elise's actual arrival are heard, her conversing with whichever of the healers is on duty at present. She clearly gets permission to proceed because there she is, rounding a corner and coming into the room with the cots and things. She bears with her a plate with a couple of little pies on it, and holds two glasses in one hand like she's seen server girls do. Duties and chores have bestowed strange new skills on her indeed. She doesn't make a big deal out of going to Dal's cot, just simply walks over to it and begins to set things down on a table nearby. "What are you writing?" she wants to know. As if he should have expected her here, somehow. Dal's gaze lifts, and then the whole of his head, and though he's no doubt had visitors over the past few days, he seems pleased indeed to have another. "A letter to my folks," he explains, setting his pen down. "I was going to go down to the Hold to see them, tonight, but..." Alas. "It's good to see you, Elise. I wanted to apologize, anyway. For bleeding on you, and everything." Elise pauses to look at him, and she obviously heard everything he said but she doesn't reply right away, at least not to all of it. Instead she resituates something on the table and then leans over to look at what he's written so far, just a cursory glance, not meant to actually /read/ it. "Your handwriting is terrible in that. You should let me write it for you." Which is kind of her... offering to help. In a very Elise way. She goes for one of the chairs not far off, from one of Dal's other visitors perhaps, and pulls it close so she can sit. Once she has, she lifts her chin and looks at him. "Actually I should apologize. I hesitated, and it made everything more dangerous. So I'm sorry. If I didn't doubt the regard with which my family currently holds me, I might ask them for some compensation for you for... saving my life." Having dropped his gaze back to the chicken scratch that is his present handwriting, Dal is surprised by Elise's last remarks, and has to lift his head hastily all over again, and shake his head. The idea of it seems to make him uncomfortable. "I wouldn't go that far, honestly. Besides, nothing ended up happening. You're fine, everyone's fine. I'm /going/ to be fine. So let's call it even, if you're happy with that, and swear never to go feline hunting again." He pauses, and then there's an actual, honest-to-Faranth smile. "Though I won't turn down the offer to write this thing for me. But - how come you're not out celebrating with everyone else?" She seems to have known Dal would say something along those lines, or so Elise's pursed lips would suggest. Still, she doesn't argue with him, doesn't try to force the issue, instead she casts a significant glance over at the pies there on the table. "I brought you pie. So yes, now we're even. And definitely no more hunting. Ever." She pulls her feet up into the chair so she can rest her chin atop her knees and shrugs a shoulder. "Celebrating what? /Lord/ Astivan has chosen /Lady/ Darcy, my uncle is probably furious, and here I am." There's a pause, she realizes how she sounds, and lowers her gaze. "Sorry." "/Pie/," says Dal, happily; trust a man to think so thoroughly with his stomach. "You're the best." Only her remarks on Astivan have made his face drop again, and now there's sympathy in his expression, and a wince, too. "Don't be sorry. I think I'd be upset, too. No - I /know/ I would be. It wasn't..." Dal struggles with a word to explain the Lord's actions; Lord Astivan, is, after all, /his/ Lord, and that complicates thing. "Respectful of him. /I'm/ sorry." Quirking her mouth to one side, Elise listens but doesn't reflect much on her inner thoughts regarding all of that. At least not with her expression. She's quiet for a moment, thinking, then she says, "He just... he knew who he wanted, the whole time. We were just there for show. To make it look like he was being fair, or to hold some kind of... sport. Like a contest, where the winner had been pre-chosen. For the entertainment of everyone else. Some kind of /game/." She spits that word out. Clearly it wasn't a game for her. "Well anyway," she says suddenly, changing again, "Lady Darcy was pretty, I remember her. They should be very happy together." She twists in her seat to get the two pies, leans awkwardly to place the plate there on his lap, after some maneuvering to get his letter-in-progress to safety first. "And here, it's cider." There's his cup. Dal is silent as she talks, and given his expression, it's not hard to imagine that he's got plenty of thoughts of his own on the subject, even if he's not presently inclined to share them. "I hope they are," he says, simply. "And I hope /you/ get something to make you happy, too. A love match, if you get married. Or a dragon, if that will make you happy. Thanks." He uses his good arm to adjust that plate, then reaches for his cup, though mostly so that he can salute her with it: "Anyway, it's Turnover. To Turn 32, and all it brings, right? May it be a good one." It's really very good of Dal to be saying things like that, and Elise isn't ignorant. She gives him a little smile, one of the rare ones, and says, "Thank you." It's simple, like his own words a moment before, but the meaning is there. She lifts her cup, not full of wine or whatever else everyone else might be drinking right now, elsewhere in the Weyr, but full of cider, and returns his salute. "For all our sakes," she adds, with a wry twist of mouth, before taking a drink. Another moment is spent in companionable silence before she speaks again. "Razi was taken away." She lowers her eyes again, lifts them to meet his if he's looking. "For all of us," agrees Dal, taking a sip from his own cup. He has to set it down again in order to pick up the pie, but it seems like he's gotten relatively deft with it, these past few days. It doesn't make it as far as his mouth, though: evidently, the news about Razi has /not/ spread as far as the Infirmary. "/Was/ he." It could be a question, but it's not. A moment later, Dal admits, "I talked to N'rov about him. I don't /know/, for sure, that he was... a problem, but it seemed better to be safe. I think I feel better, I think, knowing he's not here. Is that awful?" Elise reaches again for the second pie on that plate to claim it, and winces only a little for the temperature in her bare fingers. She doesn't bite into hers yet either, instead gives Dal a thoughtful look. After a beat, "No," is her answer. "It isn't. You went with your gut and it seems so did other people. Ali's been making us see mindhealers for this very reason, Dal. He might not have been a bad sort, but he wasn't honest." That much they know. "What do you think he was up to, though? I am a little bit sad we never got to find out." Dal's nod is relieved, in a hesitant sort of way, though he sets his pie down again in order to go for more cider, instead. After his sip, "I wish I knew. N'rov had all kinds of possibilities, innocent ones. And maybe it /was/ all innocent, except... exactly. He wasn't honest. And here and now, people /need/ to be. Because maybe he was one of those... types. The ones who stole eggs. And if he'd turned out to be, and we hadn't... it's better this way." He pauses. "As long as none of the hatchlings dies, now, because his partner isn't there." It's a solemn thought. There's a lot to think about in that, so Elise takes a bite of pie to chew on while she does just that. After, "It's true, he could have been that sort. And he could have been just... not wanting to tell us who he is or where he's from. I considered not telling anyone who I was when I first came here, but..." She did. And now look at where she is. "I don't know if it works like that. I mean I know a lot of people say it does, but I also hear people say that they find the right person out of who /is/ out there. And if you believe that, then that means he won't have gotten some baby dragon killed because /he's/ an idiot." As Elise speaks, Dal nods again, thoughtful and reflective. He reaches for his pie again, and takes a bite, chewing it, swallowing, and only then saying, "Weyrwoman Ali said that to me. That some people say it doesn't work like that, but that /she/ couldn't imagine Isyath not being right for her, specifically. I don't know; I guess it's hard for us /to/ know, when we don't really understand Impression." He glances at his pie, and then back at her. "Well, whatever the truth is, it's done now. And hopefully everything will be fine. They must know what they're doing. Why /did/ you decide to be honest? Not to say that I think you did the wrong thing, mind." "Yes, I imagine it must be different once it's actually happened, to think back on it you'd think of course they were meant for you and you for them." Elise tilts her head and shrugs again. "I guess none of us will really know, until..." Well, he said it himself, really, until they /know/, until the hatching, when some of them /will/ know. She lifts her eyebrows when he asks that particular question, up until then she'd been nodding agreement. "I... Well I can't lie. I mean I'm sure I could if I tried, but I'm not good at thinking things up. The truth is just easier." Pause. "Dal?" Dal sets down his pie and goes back for his cider, taking several sips as he listens, dark eyes fixed onto Elise. There's something wistful in his expression as she talks of Impression, and something half-frightened, too, like it's all too much to really think about. He seems to understand pretty well her answer on lying, though; his nod is surprisingly firm. But her question... he hesitates. "Mmm?" Now that she has his attention, Elise doesn't seem entirely sure what to do with it, like she hadn't thought this far through. She looks at him for a long moment and then opens her mouth to speak. Nothing happens. Then something comes out, "At the hatching will you... stay with me? I mean stand with me? Would you do that? I feel like... you seem better at surviving things than me." "I can safely promise you that I'll be terrified," says Dal, but there's something pleased around the corners of his mouth all the same; something relieved, too. "But of course I'll stand with you. Two sets of eyes are much better than one, right? I'll look out for you. We'll be okay." He exhales, abruptly. "I think I'll be glad when it's over, one way or the other." 'Duh' says Elise's face on that note, of course he will, so will she! Hence her request, which she seems pleased to see is met with warmth rather than a flatout refusal, which it might have been. "We'll be okay," she agrees, with another nod. Decisive. They will be. She narrows her eyes a little then, considering Dal as a person who used to have a life, and stuff like that. "You get to go back to your son? If this ends with you getting to go home?" It's all questions, she has no idea how that works. The look on Elise's face makes Dal very nearly smile again, but his smiles are rare, and he's got a pie to keep eating; maybe next time. Her next question seems to surprise him a little, but he nods. "I think so. Unless I decide to stay here, and bring him. It's tempting. I mean... I /like/ it here, and home hasn't felt so much like home, this last turn. But it's easier, at home. Ma looks after Jay; family is important." Stay here? Elise lifts her eyebrows and adjusts, folding her legs now and letting the pie kind of rest there in her hands, in her newly made lap. "I was thinking about staying," she shares, as if this is some big secret, or should be, and it might be. But then he touches on family and even the word results in a quick glance away. She bites on her lip. "Family /is/ important," she agrees. "Mine... well, it isn't quite the same. I very much doubt they would miss me if I stayed here. They'd miss the opportunity I am I suppose." She looks at him again. "What's your family like?" Quietly, "I'm sure they'd miss you, Elise. For /you/." It may be that Dal simply can't imagine any family /not/ doing so; he seems to believe it, his words heartfelt. "But if you think you would be happier here, then I think you should stay. My family... we're close, I suppose. My brothers and I all worked in the Orchards, with my father. It's a family thing, really. What everyone does. I broke the mold already, when I married Ellie, and her work took us to Fort Sea. It's... I don't mean it in a bad way, but it's kind of a narrow world. I'd never even been /here/." There's a thankful little quirk of her lips for that but Elise doesn't say anything, either way she'd either be popping his little bubble or agreeing, neither of which she wants to do at the moment. She settles in to listen to him talk about his family, taking another bite of her rapidly cooled pie and catching some of the filling with one of her fingers before it dribbles down her chin. "It sounds like a wonderfully simple life," she says, almost wistful herself for a change. "What was Ellie like?" And just like when he told her of Ellie's fate the first time, Elise stops herself and shakes her head, "Nevermind, I'm sorry, don't answer that, umm... /I've/ only ever been here for official things. Before." Smooth. For once, Dal doesn't actually wince, though his mouth is crooked and his expression, just briefly, wistful. "It's all right," he says. "I don't mind. She was a Harper, full of life and music, and a desperate interest in /everything/. Completely unlike the rest of my family, and unlike the girls I was supposed to be interested in." It's obvious from the way he talks that he still misses her a great deal, but it doesn't seem to /hurt/ to talk about her. "I'd never been south before the camping trip, either. I'm not sure it agreed with me, though." For a number of reasons, presumably. His description, however much she wanted him not to give it, does make Elise smile in a sad little way, for his loss. "She sounds like she was lovely," she says, with real conviction, even though it's for lack of anything better or different to say. When he brings up the camping trip and everything she rolls her eyes and shakes her head again, picking off a piece of crust to nibble on. "Me neither, and I'm never going back. Not without a dragon." She really doesn't say things like that very often, or at all, regarding dragons and potentially having one, but she seems comfortable enough with it now. "I didn't trip, you know," she says abruptly. "I mean I did, but I made myself fall. I saw her, the feline, and I couldn't... I couldn't do it. She was so savage and beautiful." "She was." Dal says that, and obviously means it, but nonetheless seems at least a little more comfortable on the somewhat stabler ground of their fateful southern trip. "I think that's a safe thing to say; I don't think I am, either, and even then..." He sets down the remains of his pie, using his knuckles to rub at the bandages wrapped around the wound on his shoulder. "She was, wasn't she? Seems like you weren't the only one to feel that way, anyway. It just... probably wasn't /that/ smart to fall, I guess. I won't tell, though." "Thank you. And I know, it wasn't, but... I did it anyway. And then you and Razi..." Elise almost carries on with that thread, but stops herself again and presses her lips together to keep any more words from coming out. "Anyway," she says instead, once she has control. As if she meant to this whole time, she sets her pie aside as well and reaches for a clipboard not far off, then for Dal's writing tools. "Let's write your letter, shall we?" she asks, as if this might be the most fun he's had all day. And that's just what she'll do, carefully scrawling the words that he dictates to her without any comment as to the content during, or when all's said and done. |
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