Logs:Defensive Children

Defensive Children
"It may be a while yet before the next clutch, but with three golds, I cannot see how his chances haven't tripled."
RL Date: 16 December, 2015
Who: Farideh, Ishadel, K'del, Kashal
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: There's no actual argument (and yet...)
Where: Nursery, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 23, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10)

Mentions: Ethran/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, N'klas/Mentions




The youngest of K'del's children is now considered old enough to come visit his father for more extended periods; it's only fair, after all, especially after so many months of separation between the weyrleader and his youngest three children. Mid-afternoon ought to find K'del in meetings, but no: he's sitting in the nursery, ignoring the glances of other people, playing blocks with two-turn-old Kashal and four-turn-old Ishadel (the latter of whom is plainly getting frustrated when his intricate castles are knocked down by an over-enthusiastic younger brother). Disharmony abounds, but K'del seems quite comfortable with it all, a father in his element. The opposite can be said for Farideh, on all accounts -- a month in, flightless, her duties are still much reduced and yet she only comes by at odd intervals to check in on her newborn. Afternoon is as good a time as any, and the goldrider whisks into the nursery in her usual unaffected manner, waving to the familiar faces of the nannies and stopping, briefly, to consider the weyrleader playing on the floor. She's on a mission, first and foremost, and only after she's checked in on a sleeping Ethran, and his gray-haired nanny, does she meander in their direction. "Building fortresses?" she asks, squatting down on their level and rolling one of the erstwhile blocks back towards the two toddlers. Three pairs of blue eyes look up from the block fortresses to look at Farideh, though it's only young Kashal who confirms the activity (and then throws a block, ineffectively, in Farideh's direction). K'del hastily picks his son up, drawing him closer to his lap as he says, "Sorry, Farideh. He's a little over-excited today." The apology is genuine; awkwardly so. "How's your little one?" It puts on the pressure, those three pairs of blue eyes, and certainly that block isn't expected, though it hits her squarely on the arm and, in surprise, Farideh falls on her rump. Undignified position, surprised look, check. "Oh--" At least she's wear skirts long and full enough that she doesn't flash the whole nursery her undercarriage. "It's fine," she replies, waving a hand and adjusting her dress. "I should get used to it now." Her cheeks are pink, but she smiles. "Growing fast, eating constantly, fussing. I hear that's normal." That Kashal giggles at Farideh's response to his block, well. Toddlers. K'del's far less impressed, holding the wiggling child closer to his chest while Ishadel-- far more mature-- continues to build, unimpeded. "Still," says K'del, apologetic. "He knows better than to throw things. Don't you, Kashal?" Sure he does. "It's-- each age has its challenges. I miss mine being tiny like yours, but also... not. That all sounds pretty normal, sure." His glance at the goldrider is appraising, as if looking for signs of her reaction to motherhood, though he doesn't actually ask anything personal. "Guess he'll grow pretty fast." "Toddlers," repeats Farideh, uncertain. "Are precocious?" Finally, there's come a time when this goldrider looks to this Weyrleader for the answers. "Before-- before I brought him to the nursery and he had his very own nanny, that first day, he was perfect, but now he gets mad if there's anything he doesn't like-- too cold, too hot, too hungry, too full. Now, he has cheeks," she says, poking herself in one cheek apple. "I didn't realize it would be that fast. You wake up one morning and they're-- well, standing and walking and throwing things." Rolling the thrown-block back, which only works so well since squares don't roll as well as circles, she glances back to the other children playing around the room. "Toddlers," says K'del, "are a pain in the--" He stops, though, both to protect young ears and also because he doesn't appear to wholly agree with his own statement, not given the way he seems to melt as young Kashal curls up into his lap for a cuddle. "But-- yes. Feels like it happens overnight. And then things change. You finally think you're getting the hang of it, and then... no. That thing he likes? Not anymore. Feels like yesterday that Nik and Kasey were Kashal's age, and now..." Now his son has moved into his Very Own Weyr. Effort shows in the way Farideh's mouth works and moves, trying to keep in the laughter that threatens to come out at K'del's words. "It never feels that way on the other end, when you're young and you want to grow up," she adds, thoughtfully, watching the elder of the two boys building. "Yes, N'klas? How is he doing? Adjusting to his new life, his new dragon? I haven't gotten the time to get to know him, even with the dancing lessons and everything else." That look on K'del's face? He's not unaware of that threatened laughter, and nor is he bothered by it. If anything, there's something smug in his expression, as if to say: you have allllllll of this ahead of you, Farideh. Enjoy! "No, it doesn't, does it? Reckon I was just about desperate to grow up, and it couldn't happen fast enough. Impatience is..." But he stops, abandoning that train of thought in order to say, with some obvious pride, "He's doing well. That Khajith of his is a handsome blue; they're well-matched. It's hard, though, seeing Nik's happiness and Kasey's disappointment. Still." "Not everyone gets to grow up in the same way you did. How old were you, again? Seventeen turns? Faranth, never let it happen again." It's both a tease and a prayer, coupled with an amused glance for the toddler still curled up in the bronzerider's lap. "Roszadyth is pleased with him," her son, not K'del's, apparently. "It's a difficult divide to manage. Will he stand again? At another Weyr, perhaps? He's still young, and has time." K'del's nod confirms seventeen; it's an age that's not so very far past where his eldest sons are now. "Won't catch me arguing with that," he tells the goldrider. "No teenager has ever been the appropriate person to lead anywhere, weyr hold or craft." Roszadyth's pleasure clearly amuses him, though he makes no comment. Instead: "He intends to. Pretty sure he considered running away to Stand for Monaco's clutch, but... the plague stopped him from going earlier, and now... as Weyrleader, I can't encourage him to go and Stand elsewhere, since we need candidates, too, eventually. As his father... I want him to be happy, and he wants this so very much." In the nursery, Farideh doesn't jump to start an argument, but she does give K'del a censorious look - for his sentiments -- that quickly shifts into contemplation. "You'd encourage him to stand at Monaco, after everything?" It's a simple question, without added emotion behind it. Picking idly at the hem of her dress, she says, aloud, "It may be a while yet before the next clutch, but with three golds, I cannot see how his chances haven't tripled." Quietly, and in a tone of voice that forces its neutrality upon itself, "I don't hold Monaco to blame for what happened. They've new leaders, besides, neither of whom had anything to do with what happened. And C'lar's Albranoth is from one of Cadejoth's clutches-- doesn't matter to me, but it did matter to Kasey." The question is, of course, moot for now. Young Kashal begins to squirm and gets set down by his father; K'del says, after a moment more, "That's true-- plenty of chances. If we keep our three queens, in any case. But he's fifteen; he's not interested in waiting. We'll see." Monaco should be one of those topics that is allowed to die with the beef between the Weyrs, and after a tense moment that's exactly what Farideh does; there are children present. "What do you mean keep our queens?" does not, however, go unnoticed. The solution to all of Farideh and K'del's problems: children! To be present at all times. K'del focuses his attention upon his younget son-- and then his second youngest-- rather than on Farideh. "Well," he says, "No Weyr needs more than two queens during an Interval, not really. Were the opportunity to come up, we'd certainly have to consider trading one of you away for political gain." Silence. How often does that happen? Farideh's face freezes and her posture is stiff, but she's staring at the bronzerider's face unwaveringly. "If you'll excuse me," precedes her using palms and ground to hoist herself up to her feet. "Weyrleader." Her voice is as stilted as her deportment remains, and she doesn't bother looking anywhere else as she retreats. "Daddy," says Ishadel, frowning after Farideh. "You made da lady mad." Yes. Yes he did. K'del, though? He says nothing.