Logs:(Not Quite) Night Before
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| RL Date: 15 May, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, Hattie |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lilah and Hattie have a quiet chat that goes nowhere good. |
| Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clouds make the skies leaden and gray, but no rain falls. A cool breeze often blows. |
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| There is... tea dripping onto the floor. Not a flood of it, and not a constant deluge, but droplets from a near-empty mug that a hand dangles precariously over an armrest of one of the comfortable chairs closest to the roaring fire in the nighthearth. The mug tips a little more, gracing the floor with another splash of tea, and as the vessel finally taps against the armrest as gravity makes demands, there's a weary, startled sound from the chair's occupant, and soon the Weyrwoman is visible crouched in that seat, the mug suddenly righted while she peers over the armrest and down to the small puddle seeping into the rug. Distraction seems to be contagious, though at least Lilah's comes with the explanation noticeable to any and all with the agitation of her queen's presence that seeps out into the Weyr. The queen has retreated to a high point again today to watch her Weyr, though she acquiesces that Elaruth may have the hatching cavern. That is not what she's interested in, as long as she does not have to share her bronzes and browns. And in the midst of this distraction, in the talk that seems to center around her dragon, the nighthearth is an oasis, despite the presence of Hattie. The goldrider is surprised to find her Weyrwoman here, none of the usual alert through draconic communication systems, though she recovers herself enough to start, "Good evening, We--." But she stops as she notices the other woman staring at the rug and stares herself, without taking a seat. As long as she doesn't have to share her bronze or her Sands, Elaruth remains quite content to leave Eliyaveith to do as she pleases, her focus narrowed to a world that doesn't expand much beyond clutch, rider and mate, the pale queen's calm confined to a gentle ripple that only edges out into the Weyr proper every now and then. Maybe Hattie is so calm that she's been asleep, for she's still in the bleary, confused state of not really there when she looks up at Lilah and provides a disgruntled, "It's tea," a little too defensively. With a sigh, she sits up properly and unfolds her legs, setting her now empty mug down on the floor. "Not tonight, then," must reference Eliyaveith. "Oh," is all Lilah comments on that wetness, her gaze lifting back to Hattie for a moment before she shifts to claim a seat of her own. Her fingers curve over her lips, elbow propped onto the armrest of the chair, before she answers, "No. She's not ready for that, yet." A pause and then the goldrider is adding with dry humor, "I blame her. And those eggs. And how much time she spent looking at them." "I'm sorry that her eggs are beautiful," is offered in a mimicry of that dry humour, that suggests that she most certainly is not sorry, not that Hattie seems to be boasting about them either. She reaches forward to the nearest empty chair, to snag an abandoned blanket and just drop it over the spilled tea without any further regard for it yet. "You'll enjoy it when it happens," she remarks rather brazenly, as she settles in her seat and folds her legs beneath her again. That humor dies with that brazen remark, Lilah's lips thinning into a line as they press together. She answers with a hint of sharpness, firm, "No. No, I won't. I would rather she had just never risen again." Hattie mutters something that sounds an awful lot like an unrepentant, "Well, I enjoy it," under her breath, even if it's a little too vehement a declaration. She waits a moment or two, jamming herself into the corner of her chair like she could let the furniture envelop her, before she asks, "Because you don't want a stranger in your bed, or you don't want the incessant staring of the months after?" with the same lack of shame as before. Clearly not woken up yet. "Either, both," answers Lilah to that, a soft breath of air escaping as she catches at a lock of hair and twists it behind her ear, only to draw it loose again. "I hated it, last time. Not that I care who catches her, but I don't have any choice, do I?" If she recognizes her contradiction, it doesn't seem as if she minds. "And this time--." "You don't have any choice that you'll end up with someone," Hattie drawls in response, letting her head fall back. "I suppose it depends whether you'd care if you felt you had the power to make that choice." She shrugs one shoulder, awkward though the motion is with her trapped there. "If you truly don't mind," she doesn't say 'care' again, "then the best you can hope is that she flies high and a bronze catches." "I care that I don't have that choice. If it was only her, if she could rise and mate and do all of that without me--." Lilah cuts herself off from that thought with the slight shake of her head, before she continues in a murmured, "I'd rather she doesn't. That he's never had a clutch. Then if it happens that she doesn't again, then at least it isn't confirmed." "She needs you." Hattie states it as if there's nothing more to it, and, for her, perhaps there isn't, since she doesn't launch into any whys or lines of reasoning. She's silent as she considers Lilah's murmuring, her voice little more than that itself when she finally forms a reply. "...If you wish that on her, you could make it happen." This, she does offer an explanation with, if a roundabout one. "I know that, when I've panicked, Elaruth's flights have turned violent. If you don't encourage Eliyaveith..." She shakes her head. "You owe her the chance. Surely." Again, Lilah's lips twist sharply at Hattie's words, her temper fraying so easily given her dragon's state, for all that whether she's ever been patient and even-tempered--. "I know that. I know," the goldrider replies to both, each. "Not that I think she would listen to me. She never does." Hattie just doesn't react, either too tired to snipe back or more understanding of Lilah's temper now, with her current excuse, than she might usually be. And yet, she asks, "Do you?" more rhetorically than anything. A half-second later, she presses, "Do you listen to her? Ever?" It's not a challenge in the way she says it, her voice quiet and even, but that may do little to stop it sounding like one. That silence meets that question might be an answer, the goldrider glancing down at fidgeting hands before she suddenly stands. "You should sleep while you can," suggests Lilah to Hattie, not a very subtle change of topic. "I am sure Elaruth cannot be easy with Eliyaveith like this." It seems Hattie might just acquiesce, close her eyes and maintain silence, but whether Lilah's silence or her assumptions about Elaruth, something bites at her enough to eliminate the chance of doing as she's informed would be best. "And you should grow up and let Eliyaveith be the queen she's meant to be." It's said so low, yet so clear and cold that it's plain she anticipates not getting the last word, though then she does close her eyes, dismissive. Perhaps it's Eliyaveith's mood that means that Lilah doesn't, can't focus enough for a good counter to Hattie's response. Instead, a muscle of her jaw twitches as it tightens, and the Weyrwoman can hear her turning sharply on a heel and striding away with even sharper steps. |
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