Logs:Holding Together
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 27 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, N'rov |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'rov gives Dee a pep talk before she goes into the feast. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions |
  |
| The hatching feast is in full swing. Enough time has passed that it's not unreasonable to see weyrlings bathed and dressed to make an appearance. Most who have look happy, giddy even, to be some of the guests of honor at such an affair, to embark on their new lives with their new lifemates before they really understand how little sleep that entails. Dee exits the baths, smoothing the rumples in her layered green dress with it's puffed sleeves, looking uncomfortable. The discomfort goes from mild to ill by the time she's part of the way toward the living cavern and she veers off, not looking, into one of the sitting places, standing and looking in the direction of the living cavern as if it might be a worse destination than the Hatching Sands earlier in the night. Enough time's passed that others have had cause for detours, enough time after that that she has a little while to think or worse; then N'rov's exiting one of the other tunnels with a couple of friends, energy rolling off his sharp-eyed demeanor and easy stride. It might be chance that he spots her, though he might not know it's her; it might be caprice that, after a slap on the others' shoulders, he stops. His expression changes as he identifies the girl, sauntering towards her; it changes again at what's writ on her face. "Going to be sick?" Sick now? Dee twists, as though surprised to see another face there and then (nevermind that there are faces aplenty here, there and everywhere tonight). When she sees it's N'rov, she looks slightly relieved. "Maybe," is her honest answer. "What do you foresee?" is added ambiguously with a wan smile. "Not sicking up on me." That's easy enough; it's not like he's not standing back, thumbs in his belt, eyeing her in not-unfriendly fashion. A couple moments later N'rov looks back over his shoulder, perhaps checking for the new weyrling's minder; but, it's only him. To Dee, then "You have a future." It might even be a future, though the bronzerider's tone is necessarily ambiguous in his own right. "You always did." Dee looks at him, her eyes searching his face for something. It might be something she doesn't find for her next words are an abrupt oblique response to his words. "Weyrwoman Lilah says not to take anything you say seriously. Should I not?" If she shouldn't, should she even take his answer to be? His brow quirks up, possibly less at her than the her who isn't here; "It might be safer," N'rov says equably. Those gray eyes are bright, not unamused. "It's certainly, for her, easier. I leave it up to you." As it should be, his tone intimates more seriously in truth. Dee's hazel meet grey, though her usually bright look is dimmed, overshadowed by so much that isn't physical or at least physically here. "I'd prefer to." The girl says after a moment of consideration. "Perhaps... not the fortunes. You've been too right already." The smile she offers now is nervous, youthful in the same way her willingness to believe had been in the galleries that day. 'Too right'; N'rov tips her an invisible hat, though his eyes don't leave her face. After a moment or two, his slight smile suggests sympathy, the more so for what he's about to say; "If you don't go in, they'll miss you." "I have to, don't I." Dee's answer is uneasy, her expression showing the fear of that same too-willing-to-believe child. "She said I do." A shudder shakes her, bodily, eyes closed in the face of it. At least there's no sign of something that will ruin N'rov's shirt or shoes. "I will," is Dee's voice, though she looks surprise to hear the small resolute delivery of the two words. "I can just... stay to the back, and leave soon after, can't I?" It's a hopeful thing she asks of him, too willing to believe, to take him seriously. That sharpens his gaze, but she's shuddering, unseeing, anyway; by the time she's not, for that delivery (that surprise!) N'rov can give her a deliberately just-as-small approving nod. "I don't see why not," he reassures, if with a tap of his temple and a wry smile to denote it's not that sort of seeing. "Stay a little while, try to smile... and if you look like it's all too much, that's what they're going to want to see anyway. Too much and happy," which, as he offers the crook of his arm, may be another thing entirely. "I'll try," she tries, already failing. Dee rocks her weight to wrap her arm demurely around his, preparing to place foot after foot on the path to the living cavern. She might be steeling herself in silence, but after only a pair of paces, she looks up and to say, "Thank you, sir," earnest in her gratitude, if already wearied before she's even into the throng. "Remember about holding together," N'rov says in a low voice; he steps back just before she enters, the better to send her on her way. |
Leave A Comment