Logs:Visiting Grief
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| RL Date: 12 October, 2015 |
| Who: K'zin, Suireh |
| Involves: Harper Hall, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin visits a grief-stricken Suireh. |
| Where: Suireh's Quarters, Harper Hall |
| When: Day 24, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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| The evening of day six finds Suireh alone in her room, a tray of food by the door outside, untouched. Had it been summer, it's likely there'd be some sort of insects flittering about the cold, graying slab of herdbeast and the vegetables with the fat solidifying on the surface. The shut door is unlocked, and within the already slender woman seems thinner somehow, the weight of grief heavy on fragile shoulders. She sits at a chair pulled to the tiny, sliver of a window she has rank enough to warrant and looks out into the frosted Fortian landscape, with only the remnant slivers of sunset lending light to the room. For visitors looking for her, most everyone knows where Master Suireh is and the general reaction is that grimace where it doesn't seem they know quite how to act, but anyone will let K'zin know just where to find her. Someone might even be kind enough to take a visitor all the way up to the obscenely brightly lit Masters' residential corridor. If one were keen of ear, it might be possible to hear the silence so pregnant with hesitancy that it's like to give birth to an anxious retreat any moment. Hands press to the outside of the door, brown eyes close and a deep breath is drawn before he knocks. "Suireh?" he finds his voice in the moment that follows, "It's Waki. Can I come in?" Were she to open the door for him, he's too close, hands braced on either side of the frame, body having been close to the door itself as if the strength of the wood that made it could lend itself to him. Some sort of sound sounds from within. Was it assent? The door doesn't open of its own accord at any rate, the woman within not moving. If only she could see the way K'zin's eyes squeeze shut again, the way he takes the moment to probably draw whatever strength and bravery might be taken from the wood under his fingers into the domain of grief. Then, he reaches to the door handle and lets himself in, stepping in just far enough to slide to the side of the door and close it behind him. "Hi." Suireh is still sitting, her gaze fixed to that point somewhere outside, though she does move enough, slight thought is, in a chin drop that shakes her hair and allows her to see who it is that's walked in. Her swallow can be heard, it's so silent otherwise, and the dryness of her mouth causes her to work her jaw, bringing up enough saliva to finally utter, "Hi," back. There's a bed, a desk, it's a lovely room with a simple, expensive elegance in its decorations. There's a fine layer of dust though and she- ... well, frankly, she smells a little. Sometimes, it's the little things-- like smells-- that separate real friends from those trying to use a moment of weakness for some variety of personal gain. Still, real friends who aren't complete idiots don't start with 'take a bath, for Faranth's sake' and K'zin is not the most intelligent bronzerider in the bunch but he seems to have enough tact to take in the room, the woman, ...the smell... and still push off the wall to saunter over to where she sits and drop onto the floor next to her chair, seating himself as though he somehow belongs there (and perhaps many turns ago in another time and under very different circumstances, he did). He doesn't speak for some moments, perhaps trying to sort just what to say now that he's here. Gray eyes flick down to catch sight of the man at her feet and a soft sound, somewhere between a snort and a grunt, acknowledges his presence. Her hair is unkempt and her eyes look swollen, but her voice, now that it's been allowed to speak one word into the air, tries again with a rote, "Thank you for coming. I'm fine." Suireh doesn't even waver at that lie, one last look for K'in turning back to the window. "I was fine after my dad died, too." K'zin's grimace colors his tone. It's not that he doesn't believe her, it's just how it was for him. His hand rises, the thumb allowed to scrub across an eyebrow before more fingers join to rub across his chin. "I didn't know-- don't know if you would want people, and I can go, if you'd rather, I just-- I had to come, in case." In case she wanted people. In case he could help. In case-- something. "No." There's a sigh. A loud, resigned sigh. "No, stay." She even sounds like she means it, and there's a hitch of emotion in her otherwise devoid voice. Suireh swallows, silently this time, and moves to sit on the edge of her chair, her hands folding primly over her knee. "Stay." Moving brings not only her to life, but the grief back, and she's crying once more, silent tears for now. There's empathy in K'zin's expression, his eyes vulnerable and pained for Suireh's pain. He shifts up onto his knees, turning to reach and lay his hands on her knees. Her body twitches at the touch, unused to touching in the last few days, and she looks at her knee with his hand on it before reaching out to place one of her callused one atop his. It is the oddest time for this question, given she's silently crying for her murdered father. "Why," she's so mystified, "Why do you still find me after all these turns?" That the question is a surprise might be seen in the flutter of blinks that come as his mind processes the question and seeks an answer. Perhaps the question's never been asked. "I--" He stops because the answer isn't there, but it comes, helplessly, "care. Always have. And when you care, you go, when the person you care about might be hurting or might need you. You just go." It's what you do, if you're K'zin. It's unclear if Suireh is listening to his answer. Her hand absently pats his and she nods. "You've always been so sweet to me, even when I wasn't to you. I'd hoped-," the harper brushes away her tears with her hands, releasing his, and sits back into the chair. "Thank you for visiting. Master Erablen says it'll fade some day." K'zin doesn't try to make sure she's heard him. It's not about him in this moment. His eyes linger on her, perhaps trying to garner some greater understanding of what she needs, from the look of her face, from the words she chose (is she choosing, even? or are they just coming out?). His search leaves him with only a sigh. He sits back on his heels, hands finding his own knees where his eyes follow briefly before looking back to her. "Time heals some things." It would probably be nicer, sweeter if he left off there. "Sometimes, it just makes wounds older. Sometimes, it just lets you learn to breathe around the gaping hole in your chest where someone or something you love used to be." She was with him up until a point and even in her blurred state, somewhere into the latter half of his thoughts, Suireh awakens enough to stare at him oddly. "Do you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?" she asks, some small token of her personality pushing through. K'zin's head ducks in embarrassment. No doubt there's a blush on his dusky cheeks. "It's the only one I have," is the only defense he can mount, shaking his head slightly as he looks back up at her. "Not Harper trained." Excuses, excuses. "In another world," Suireh starts, looking back outside and not at the blushing K'zin. "If you didn't have a girlfriend, this would be the perfect time for us to have grief-driven sex." By stating it, this is obviously not going to be the perfect time to have grief-driven sex. "Isn't that what harper stories are made of? Missed connections, what ifs, dead fathers who only leave one letter to his two daughters." If K'zin weren't laughing-- chuckling really, in an awkward way-- he might be crying. He rubs the back of his neck. "In another world," he agrees, "in this one, it might break my heart." He shifts so he can sit cross-legged again, but still facing her. "Tragedies," he acknowledges of the harper stories, "and redemptions," is added as his own thought. "One letter," is repeated in murmur, almost disbelieving. "Do you have a letter?" Suireh asks, words spilling out far more readily now. "One for your girlfriend? For the people you love?" "N-no?" It's questioning because, "I-- wow." K'zin's hand comes up to rub his face again. "I guess I'm not prepared." Then an odd look, "Was--" R'hin? "Maybe only old people do that. Maybe only old dragonriders." Write letters to family preemptively. Suireh closes her eyes, unable to squeeze tears away. "I'm tired now. Thank you for visiting." "Maybe," K'zin doesn't damage the idea with doubt. He gets to his feet slowly. If she were standing, she would probably be wrapped in an embrace before he takes his leave. As is, he steps beside her and reaches to her shoulder, seeking to rest his hand there a pair of moments before squeezing gently. "If you need me for anything, just call for me. I'll come." "With my imaginary dragon," jokes Suireh, not bitter at all, even after all these turns. But her hand steals up to accept the comfort of his hand on her shoulder and leaves it at that. "Thank you." "With your harper trained mouth to get an easy favor from the watchrider." The answer is out before K'zin's mind processes just how that might be taken. "I-- I should go." Before he dies of embarrassment or something like it. |
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