Logs:Escape and Repose
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| RL Date: 6 July, 2015 |
| Who: X'vin, Celestra, Hattie |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Some people are smart to escape from the not-quite-rain, and then there are others who aren't? |
| Where: Lake Grove, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Some people call it refreshing. Other people call it cold and miserable. Whatever the case, a periodic, misty rain falls on and off throughout the day, mostly just enough to make everything damp rather than soaked. |
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>---< Lake Grove, Fort Weyr >----------------------------------------------< Hardy mountain trees cluster together on the far end of the lake, providing a shady retreat beneath high, spreading branches. Right along the edge of the trees, several stone picnic tables are set up to welcome fresh air diners. Here and there within the grove, tumbled boulders from ages ago provide places to sit for those taking a break from a walk around the shore. Toward the Bowl wall, the trees grow more closely together providing a somewhat secluded spot for a private conversation or quiet contemplation. >----------------------------------------------< The bowl is not a heavily populated place this afternoon, with many having sought shelter from the mist that seems to have pervaded as much of the immediate outside world as it possibly can, making it difficult to escape the irritating not-quite-rain. Hattie hasn't taken shelter inside the caverns, but has adopted the grove beside the lake as a temporary place to rest, the cover offered by the trees by both branches and close-knit planting doing /something/ to ease the chilly, oppressive quality of the air. She's adopted a tree to lean back against, the tables and benches being clammy to the touch, and peers through to the bowl proper from beneath the safety of the voluminous hood of her leather coat. There are always people willing to brave the weather for their purposes, it seems. X'vin's among them, the chill mist apparently not deterring the bronzerider from his afternoon run, now that Flint has dispersed; they've been in the bowl most of the morning, and their absence is a recent development. X'vin alone remains, or has returned, and is dressed for his engagement: loose pants and a short-sleeved shirt that will provide no comfort should the weather take a true turn for nasty. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as his steady stride takes him around the lake towards the grove, and his arrival proves mildly surprised to find Hattie there, and he evens his breathing out as he slows his pacing to her to something more like a stroll. "Weyrwoman." An easy greeting, not quite breathless, with a hint of amusement. "Enjoying the weather? The misty rain is actually what brings Celestra out from the caverns, regardless of the fact that it makes most things damp and cold. Rather than being inside where the heat has built up to the point of being uncomfortable with all the bodies within, the refreshing air brought about by the mist might sometimes be more desirable. Also clothed in a thick coat, the young Harper has found her way to the grove with a drawing pad tucked carefully beneath one arm. Shelter is found beneath the many trees there and she finds her own to lean against, not far from Hattie. The approach of the new wingleader is also noted from where she sits, using the edge of her coat to protect her bottom from the damp ground, legs drawn up against her. The pad rests on her knees, using the dry shelter as an opportunity to draw the scene before her. Hattie's attention is drawn from wherever it is that she's keeping an eye on only when X'vin speaks, and it takes a blink and the slight tilt of her head for her to go from long to short distance, dark gaze sharpening as she does so. "Wingleader," she replies, given a moment to think on it and give the bronzerider a second or so of further study. "When there are some people who'd have you cooped up inside all day, you find any weather an interesting change of pace," the goldrider drawls, making an effort to more stand against than /lean/ against her chosen tree. Celestra's approach - and her adopting of her perch on the ground - makes her focus leap again. "...And there are some who're clearly even more enthused about it than I am." "I wouldn't blame them for worrying," is amused, and X'vin's eyes drift over her, like he's looking for any hints of frailty. "Not to say I blame you for wanting out, either. And it's the most forgiving day of the seven, so far." His eyes trip to Celestra too, with a sort of absent regard, noting proximity and the pad in her hands; if she does happen to look his way, he'll even tip of a nod of greeting and one of those brilliant smiles so out of place in such gloom. "You're feeling well, I hope? The stress has eased off?" The regard given to her is noted and Celestra looks toward the pair, a nod given and a small smile of her own. Blue eyes drift from them to the lake, then up towards the cloudy sky, graphite poised in her hand above the pad. Keen eyes take in the scene, observing, before that stick touches on the pad, "Wingleader, Weyrwoman, I hope you don't mind that you'll be included in my drawing?" She's minding her manners this time, especially when the subjects might object. The sentence phrased like a statement, but her tone indicates a question, making sure to have spoken only when both have stopped to prevent interruption. "I accept the fussing from my weyrmate, but all of you," whether bronzeriders, men or people in general, "chiming in is a bit much," Hattie says wryly, though not unkindly. She can't have missed the drift of his gaze, and maybe that's what makes her the tiniest bit quicker to insist, "I've no intention of landing myself in the infirmary for a prolonged stay, I can assure you. Not that that may be within my control." Attempting to shrug that last statement away, she still can't quite help that her lips twist a little bitterly when she murmurs, "It is what it is." Her expression is undeniably darker when she looks to Celestra once more, but she tells her, "If it pleases you, I've no objection." Of X'vin, she asks, "How is Flint treating you?" X'vin holds his hands up, as if surrendering. "That you've stepped down doesn't make you less a weyrwoman for the riders here," of which he may or may not yet be included. He adds "ma'am" as something of an afterthought, but he studies her face a bit too intently for a moment before he turns away, lifting an arm to stretch it across his body while he's still warm from the run. "I think it's reasonable to care for your well-being." If he notices the nuances of her concerns, X'vin has the manners not to comment or pursue them. Then Celestra's query comes, and he huffs a laugh, switching arms. "Certainly, so long as it's not one of those unpleasant caricatures you find at gathers," he agrees readily enough. And of Flint? A shrug. "They're coming around. Good 'riders. Lack discipline, but honest. Loyal." The huffing laugh of X'vin's is met with a soft one from Celestra, and even a wrinkle of her nose. "Oh you won't have to worry about that, sir." The Harper assures from her perch before her gaze falls to the pad and the graphite as it touches the pad at last. It moves smoothly across the surface, the dark lines abstract at first. Blue eyes flicker upwards, taking in various details before going back to the drawing. Her ears are perked, picking up words every now and then from the pair but not quite focusing on their exchange. Hattie's, "I know," doesn't sound so sure, and even less so when the words that follow don't exactly make it clear what she's acknowledging. "I'm learning," she attempts to declare with more confidence than discomfort. "I find it... difficult to prioritise my own wellbeing. Or understand that others might. I've been trying for decades. I'm... still trying." It's a stilted, awkward kind of acceptance that she makes efforts to offer, rather than argument. She can't really look at X'vin or Celestra immediately after, and she more readily picks up the topic of Flint. "T'rev led with his heart more often than not. Loyalty... doesn't surprise me. Discipline... hasn't always his priority, I think. He's a good man. Sometimes too good." And there's judgement enough in that. X'vin's smile is sympathetic. "You were weyrwoman for a very long time. Changing tack is hard, but you oughtn't set yourself on fire to illuminate the rest of the world." He's looking at Celestra as he says it, for all the words are Hattie's. He doesn't distract; just seems to watch the curious movements of graphite on paper, as he shifts his stretching to his lower body, kicking one foot back and catching it, his knee pointing down at the ground as he mulls her evaluation of his wing. "There's a balance. He had a good idea, sending riders to the Hold. But it's not just heart. Too much heart gets people hurt." The previously indistinct lines have started forming, Celestra's expression set to focus as her hand moves across the page. The distinguishable figures of the riders are apparent, though nothing else forthcoming. A glance upwards and a pause in hand movements. Brows furrow at X'vin's movements, eyes tracing his form before going back to her paper with a tilt of her head. Lips purse as she leans back to look at the pad before putting it back down, graphite touching surface once more. "...Elaruth's loss has been plenty - and awfully - illuminating enough, I promise you," Hattie assures, low-voiced. She can't smile, her reply forced out, and it's just easier to watch Celestra in that moment, and to somehow retreat further inside her hood. "I've attempted to tell him so more than once over the turns," she says eventually; quietly. Looking up again, she hastens to say, "He was a good Weyrleader - don't misunderstand me, but if you've a heart easily swayed, you're apt to be led to doing the opposite of what you set out to do." "I'm sorry for that," demurs the bronzerider, genuinely a little upset at the mention of Elaruth's daughter. He cuts a look to Hattie sidelong to check how she's faring as he switches legs - ever the uncooperative subject for art - and his mouth presses into a line. "And what do you tell people like our esteemed weyrwoman, who sits at the other end of the scale?" He's obviously not talking about Hattie. A sigh escapes Celestra when X'vin moves - again. Worst. Art. Subject. Ever. No words are forthcoming, of course. Just another wrinkle of her nose. But she plows on with her drawing, going mostly from memory at this point as his form sharpens on the paper. The Weyrwoman is much easier to draw, her figure still against the tree, hood obscuring her expression from the Harper's gaze. "She forgets. Sometimes." A quiet attempt to deflect, or apology wrapped in what reassurance Hattie can summon on the subject. She tips her head back a touch, hood revealing the frizz of curls, but little of her expression from where Celestra sits. "Sometimes, they have to learn the hard way," she remarks, slowly pushing away from the tree. "Like we all do, from time to time. Sometimes, the lesson is one they have to learn on their own. Caring doesn't have to destroy you, if you learn to use it in the right way. You are not served. /You/ serve." When she moves, she's mindful of the roots underfoot. "Then, she wouldn't be the first to start out believing that people just need to do as they're told," the weyrwoman adds, dryly. It sounds like little consolation, as far as X'vin is concerned. Down his leg goes, up go his arms, fingers interlaced above his head and his spine making a small crackle as he expands it. Yes, there's another look at Celestra for her sigh, like he knows why she's at it and exactly what he's doing to contribute. It's reinforced by, "Doing alright over there?" He makes an appreciative sound for Hattie's assessment, nodding, his eyes bright and curious. "You sound like you know from personal experience." And now they're both moving. Lovely. Good thing that portion of the drawing is mostly done. Celestra is anything if not quick, especially with mobile subjects. The Harper draws on some finishing touches, perhaps adding in some curls peaking out from beneath that hood of Hattie's, maybe that knowing look on X'vin's face. She looks up at his query, blue eyes latching onto is for a moment, lips curled into an amused smile. "As well as I can." With you constantly moving, is implied. She goes back to her drawing, now adding the background to the scene. "As you said: I was Weyrwoman for a long time." They're a little dark, those words, as Hattie picks her way through to the nearest break in the trees that leads directly enough back to the bowl. "And, as you reminded me, I'm still a weyrwoman." She doesn't exactly smirk, but there's a sharp curve to her lips to go with the sudden intensity of her dark-eyed gaze when she pauses to regard X'vin for a last moment. Abruptly, she casts a look over her shoulder, along with a, "Sorry," for Celestra that doesn't really sound so apologetic. Either way, she departs without further ado. When X'vin's well-maintained smile flickers, it's only after Hattie has turned away to leave, and it's an unreadable shift that touches how kind his eyes usually are. A small slip, to be sure. He says his farewells to her back, ever courteous, and that leaves the shark-grinned wingleader to turn back on Celestra, dropping his arms to finally stop stretching, ultimately ending with them crossed over his broad chest. "Almost done, I hope," what with one of her subjects gone. "Can I see?" Trees begin to dot the background, matching that of the grove. The lake forms, several lines depicting the ripples as the soft mist touches the surface. It's currently devoid of color, but for the black of the graphite. The apology offered by Hattie causes Celestra to look up from a work, giving the departing Weyrwoman the slightest of nods, only just inclining her chin. Her gaze drifts to X'vin, eyes wary of that shark-like grin of his. "Just about." she replies, a flickering glance to the drawing before going back to the wingleader. "Of course." A gesture to come closer, because she's not leaving the dry shelter of the tree yet, before the pad is held out for his perusal. X'vin takes the pad, careful to shield it from the drizzle as he does. His head tilts slightly while he scrutinizes her work. Whether or not he knows anything about art is unclear, and his expression hard to read. "Do I really look like that?" he asks, and that, too, is difficult to ascertain; he doesn't sound mad, exactly. Celestra leans her head back against the tree, gaze on X'vin's expression as his eyes go over the drawing. A delicate shrug of one shoulder at his question, "Art is subjective." she replies easily, "That is simply how you appear to me." The edge of her lips once more curled in another amused smile. "Besides, it's pretty small so the features are not as distinct." It's not to say she's a great artist, but she would think that it's not a horrible drawing, by any means. The details are there, but it's a simple sketch. "Goodness. I need to work out." It's certainly self-depricating, but the fact that she's already begun to defend herself and her sketch might mean X'vin's needling her insecurities. He is good-natured enough about it, whatever his intentions. "Will you add color?" "In my opinion, you don't really need to work out." It might be a slightly off-handed compliment. "I apologize if my sketch doesn't do your figure justice." Celestra's tone doesn't quite sound apologetic, rather laced with some amusement. "To this one... I'll like transfer it to a canvas before I add color. This one's too small to do that." And is then that she finally stands, stretching her arms and legs to ease the tension built up from her previous positioning. "I'm Celestra, by the way, Journeyman Harper." A belated introduction. "You're too kind, but that sort of mindset will have me soft in no time," X'vin says, however unlikely it is that his lifestyle will allow for it. He taps his head in a 'd'oh' gesture when she introduces herself, saying, "Ah, rude of me. Sorry. X'vin, bronze Besmernyths. Well met, Celestra." He's got a sly smile when he says, "And sorry for being a poor subject. Perhaps we can try again sometime." A brow lifts, expression dubious, no doubt quite sure that a rider going 'soft' is quite unlikely. Especially from such a simple compliment. "Well met, X'vin." His apology gets a soft laugh from Celestra. "It's quite alright. It was rather impromptu, anyway." Her hand gives a rather dismissive wave. A step brings her in front of him, one arm across her middle, hand tucked beneath an elbow while the other rubs at her chin. "I would actually like to do a full portrait, if you wouldn't mind letting me. But you'll have to stay still for some time." she warns. "Or you'll have to draw quicker, maybe," suggests the wingleader with a laugh, not agreeing to anything. "We'll see how it works out, hmm? I'd like to see more." But he does tip his head in farewell, adding, "If I'm to be in any condition, I'll need to finish my run, before the heavens open and drown us. Good afternoon, Journeywoman," is his last, and he's off again at a clip back the way he came from, where in the distance, a lanky, lean bronze beast waits, if someone looks closely. |
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