Logs:Limiting Futures
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| RL Date: 26 February, 2016 |
| Who: Dahlia, T'gar |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rat visits Dahlia a couple sevens before the eggs hatch. They talk of impending graduation and limited futures among other things. |
| Where: Dahlia and Taeliyth's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: F'manis/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, R'oan/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| It's been too long, really. Dahlia has just been so busy with the eggs and minding her lifemate and all her usual duties (mostly) on top of it. Still, tonight, she managed to have Taeliyth reach for Asaroth, managed to invite T'gar over. When he arrived in her weyr, there was barely time for more than Dahlia's delighted shriek of welcome and the launch of the goldrider into the bronzerider's arms and then getting to the private section of the weyr before there was further expression of just how much she missed him. It's only after, as Dahlia trace lazy circles on T'gar's chest with one hand, propping her head up on the other to smile down at him in a warm way that she has more words to offer him. "How are you?" It seems like the sort of question that should've come sooner, but. In equal parts, T'gar has been busy these days as well. The weyrling pair is mired in continued wing shadowing and their own duties to the weyrling wing, mixing in jaunts to the punching bag down in the workout room with some of his clutchmates. Of course, once his duty was done for the day, he and Asaroth popped over to Fort and into the sort of welcome that any hot-blooded male would crave. And so, spent and lying back with his hands craddling the back of his head while Dahlia traces his chest, his gaze shifts from the ceiling towards her face to answer her with, "Now? Relaxed. I fucking needed that. What about you, though? I figured all the Hatching stuff's keeping you busy." "Pretty much," comes Dahlia's rueful answer as she lavishes that smile down on her lover, so comfortable there, lying along his side. "I never knew eggs and candidates were so much work. I'm told that other golds have more natural instinct for tending the eggs, but Taeliyth doesn't seem to, as much, so I have to mind her and remind her to do things for them. Once she has it in her mind to do things for them, it seems alright, but the reminding..." It falls to her. Dahlia shrugs her shoulders, "I've missed this," she tells him before leaning to press a kiss to his lips before drawing back enough to smile. "You're graduating soon. What should I get you for graduation?" It's a fair inquiry since, really, they don't know each other so well. "Guess egg-and-candidate-minding just isn't her thing," T'gar muses idly as he shifts his head to look all over her ceiling. "Are there any good prospects? You think there'll be a gold on the sands?" He looks over at her then at the sentiment, grinning her way before gives her a gentle nudge with his shoulder before he says, "Me too," and returns that kiss. "And yes, I am graduating soon. Looking forward to the little break that comes with it. You know you don't have to get me a graduation gift," he adds, a touch wry as he archs that angled grin Dahlia's way. "I wouldn't know what you could get me, anyway. Just catching a peek of you if you stop by would be enough." "She hasn't shown any favor to any particular eggs, but given how little she cares for Zaisavyth and how she got on with Elaruth and Eliyaveith, I'm not sure she would favor a gold egg above any other," Dahlia frowns a moment before she has a dissembling shrug. "I'm sorry I'm not more help for the betting books. I'm sure it will be a healthy clutch, for what that's worth." Even if it doesn't help for the betting books. "I'd like to get you something," she says of the gift. "Graduation is a big deal, Rat. Even if you mightn't think so. It's the beginning of the rest of your life and it's a recognition of what you've accomplished in a very short amount of time." She considers him for a moment. "I think most Weyrs give their riders a token for a new set of riding leathers with the weavers. Perhaps you'd let me bolster that token a bit? Get you something really nice." Nevermind that Dahlia's own riding leathers are new but nothing special, nothing that would denote her as a goldrider with disposable income beyond the knot she wears with them. "Do you have a wing in mind for yourself or just waiting to see what comes your way?" "Don't have much to bet with anyway," Rat is easy to dismiss on betting. "It'd be interesting to see if Fort's any different from the Reaches with their clutches is all." Snickering on gift-giving, "Nn. I don't know about it being a 'big deal', Dee. I've had some pretty big deal stuff before I Impressed. It'll be a change with not so many keeping tabs on me. No curfew at all would be nice. I won't keep you from buying whatever you think best from me, Dee. I'm a man used to living on very little." As for wings, he doesn't answer that one right away. As his arm shifts to drape over Dahlia's shoulder, he shrugs a bit before he answers. "Mostly waiting to see what they think," he says to her then. "I'd like some wing like Taiga, but really I think I would be fine just about anywhere. I haven't rocked any boats to be considered trouble," and there's a slight smirk to that admittance. "Well," Dahlia reasons thoughtfully, "if you think about it, I haven't had a chance to give you a gift for Impressing at all, and that's a big change. So maybe you could consider it gift for all as one, unless you really don't want spiffy leathers, in which case I'll have to think of something else." She concludes. "Spiffy leathers would probably be easiest and serve you for the longest, and when you wear them you can think of my warm smile and remember that somewhere in the world there's someone who likes you just as you are." And without strings too! What a catch. "Taiga was K'del's wing, back when he wasn't weyrleader, wasn't it?" Who knows where she learned that. Weyrwomen are full of useless knowledge. "I was never anything special," she adds, "possessions wise. I'm not trying to make you feel awkward, I just... I'm proud of you," she admits, a little shyly. "I'd like to recognize your accomplishments, now that we know each other." "The crappy leathers I have right now is more fit to be fabric for new drapes," Rat notes, amused openly. "You like to talk really sweet, you know that? I wouldn't need a jacket to remember your smile." His fingers find a few locks of the hair at the back of her head, rubbing them together. Looking into Dahlia's eyes, "Thank you," he tells her, the tone hearfelt along with his gaze. "You're sweet and sexy. Nothing's awkward between us." He stretches against her before brows lift upon hearing the goldrider speak of the wing Taiga. "How did-?" he starts to say before pausing. "Yeah, it was. Maybe still is with him being Weyrleader. I think I could learn a lot from being in that wing, but only if they let me in." "Well, technically, he doesn't have one, a wing, I think. Though no doubt Taiga probably still claims him as one of their own, however unofficially." Dahlia considers that a moment. Then a little one shouldered shrug sees her saying, "K'del's a friend." Of course he is. She leans up to press another kiss to T'gar's lips before murmuring an assurance of, "Not this kind of friend." Then she's shifting away from him to get out of the bed. "Bath?" She offers cheerfully, neatly avoiding anything that might seem like deeper feelings that might make things awkward. "We'll settle the leathers when the time comes." Since she's definitely doing that for him now. "I think most wings would be interested in a wingrider who wants to learn. The wingleader is F'manis, isn't it?" A bluerider who she probably doesn't know personally, but whose reputation is good enough that if she had been nosing around High Reaches, she was likely to get at least that. "I hope it works out for you, T'gar." Really, she does. "Yeah, I can imagine," T'gar murmurs on K'del being claimed by the wing with a nod. Hearing that K'del was a friend - but not the kind he is, evidently - draws low laughter from the weyrling before he leans back. "What, I thought weyrwomen were into older men," he muses in an open tease as he watches Dahlia leave the bed with no apology in his staring. "That seems to be the name of the game in these Weyrs from what I've observed. Not that I've been to all of them, yet." As for the wings, there's a sound coming from him that borders on the skeptical before he says, "Some wings, maybe. A lot of them in the Reaches choose who fits with them. Like, I couldn't see myself in Tundra since I was never at a crafthall." He gets up then because - bath. He's on board with that, her sentiment on his future drawing a wry, "Well, if it doesn't, that's alright too. I've learned to roll with the punches already." There are a number of things Dahlia could and arguably should address here. However, his open tease has her turning back toward him with so wide eyes, blinking with sudden (feigned) concern and confusion. She waits until he's done telling the rest and gotten up to follow her before she points out, with querulous innocence in her tone, "But, T'gar, you are an older man." Older than her nineteen turns anyway~ Trailing behind her as he looks around the place, "I meant old enough to be your father," Rat corrects when his gaze finds her back in amusement. "I would say someone old enough to put you over their knee, but, even I would do that." "Well, there's old enough to be your father, and old enough to be and a father," Dahlia points out. "It's really very different if you don't know any of their kids, or of them." She speaks from experience. "I'm not sure spanking has anything to do with it," she adds wryly and amused. She leads the way to the pool with it's few steps up before the steps that descend into the space comfortable enough for two people that like each other as Dahlia and T'gar clearly do (at least enough for this purpose). Taking in the bath, "I really need to look into getting one of those weyrs with their own baths one day," T'gar notes when he spies hers. "It doesn't even need to be fancy. So. If you knew his kids, it's all-bets-are-off?" he asks her, arching a brow Dahlia's way, continuing the banter. "It would be nice," Dahlia agrees. "One of the things I've started to become comfortable and accustomed to about the junior weyrs." The perks are great. "Well, if I'd known the ones I know now, probably so, but I couldn't say for certain now. Some people just have a lot of appeal, regardless of age." Evidently K'del doesn't hold that kind of appeal for Dahlia, but they're probably both entirely content that that's the case. "Maybe you'll keep yours as you get even older." That's teasing as she holds out both hands toward him, having settled herself in the pool as she spoke: come hither bronzerider~ "Coming from where I have, you can't deny the space of those weyrs even without the perks," Rat notes idly. "I'm used to having to share a place, in other words." As for age, there's an amused but soft snort for her response. "Appeal like mine never dies," he sounds so proud to say to her as he reaches for those hands to be led further into the bath. "Although," he adds wryly, "perhaps my added appeal is my being a hapless weyrling. Some women enjoy imagining how much they're corrupting me." "Me, too. I mean, mine was a cabin with my mother and father and brother, and sometimes the apprentice dorms at FarmCraft when I was there." Dahlia replies thoughtfully, as though she might be curious about his own origins, though she doesn't pry - she does endeavor never to pry. "I wasn't really ready for a place of my own," is wry confession, "I slept most nights near Taeliyth in the beginning." The goldrider aims to tuck her lover into a comfortable embrace. This bath might be for snuggling and pillow talk, really. "If it helps, I can go on imagining how much I'm corrupting you. I suspect it will be the same amount whether you're a weyrling or a full-fledged bronzerider," read: not at all. There's a tease in the way she grins at him. "If you hadn't Impressed, what would you be doing with the farmcraft?" T'gar asks, latches onto that revealed bit of information about the weyrwoman. He seems to understand her reluctance in the beginning, nodding before he says, "Yeah, I can see it. I'll admit, it took me awhile to really get used to my weyr, too. I've gotten used to sleeping in the same place as my clutchmates, and really, I don't have much to hide." Once in, he does wrap an idle arm about her waist as he grins on her remarks about corruption. "As long as you're taking your job seriously," he openly teases on her imagining it all. He can play along, too. Settling in behind her with his arm still about her, "So. Tell me what it is that a Fortian weyrwoman does for fun when she's not bogged down with work." "Working on my journeyman project, I expect. Preparing for exams. Hoping to walk tables." Dahlia answers with an easy little shrug, leaning back against the bronzerider. "I'd wanted to try crossing some species of citrus to see if I couldn't encourage something new and tasty, but..." that's no longer in her wheelhouse of dreams. "I don't have much to hide, but I'll admit now I like my space. I find the day more than a little exhausting, always having eyes on you. It's rare to be able to so isolate myself as I can once I'm home for the day. Not that I object to pleasant company like yourself," there's a teases there and she lays her head back against his shoulder, obviously in no hurry for this bath to involve cleaning. "I'm not sure weyrwomen are ever really not bogged down with work, to be honest. I still like to go tromp around in the jungles of Southern when I have time. Taeliyth doesn't mind that, what with the good hunting it usually yields for her. What about you? What does a nearly graduated bronzerider do for fun when he's not bogged down with work?" "Why can't you still do that citrus-cross-thing?" T'gar asks, angling a look down at her from behind. "I mean, Fort has a greenhouse too, right? You could still do it and have it under the care of the greenhouse tenders when you're busy. Might end being something you could use and trade for Fort." He grins on the pleasant company bit, shifting himself so that she could lay her head back against him more comfortably. "You're into hunting?" he picks that out from something she says. "Only done it once, but I'd love to do it again somewhere south." As for himself and leisure time, he chuckles before warning her with, "Well, it's going to be boring. Mostly I've been raiding the kitchens and spending time with the bag in the workout room we have. That's there at the Weyr. Before all that, I liked to talk to people and imitate them. Liked to use my fists. Still do, in a sense." "No, no greenhouse here." Dahlia reports with a little roll of her shoulders, "and even if it didn't, I don't have the time to study what I would need to study, to collect what I would need to collect and the environment here is wrong for citrus. Might work in Southern Boll, but Southern Boll isn't Fort." The Weyr can't make use of their sweep as their own personal gardens after all. "My dragon is into hunting. I can't say I'm much of a hand at it, though I don't mind helping with whatever she needs when she's done that. Or helping you, if we ever had a chance to go." The rest draws a smile. "I like boring," is breezily defiant, but she's more serious about the rest, "Imitate people? Like... the way they sound? Walk? That sort of thing?" T'gar nods to the answer of there being no greenhouse there in Fort, seeming to concede this suggestion. "I have a friend that frequents our greenhouse and she enjoys tending her plant there to clear her head," he explains from his angle. As for boring, there's a quick and easy grin from him on her answer. "I don't like to rock the boat unless I have to," he explains loftily. He nods on imitating people before adding to her guesses, "Bitra sounds different from someone of Boll. I like the accents. Some even walk and hold themselves different. It's sort of a little hobby of mine." Dahlia has a smile for T'gar's mention of his friend, and an, "Oh," as if she might realize some mis-stated thing. "I'll still tend to my plants. I'm planning on potting more and setting up some trellises on the ledge where the sun is right, when spring really comes; I'm just not going to be so ambitious as to try to create a whole new cross." There's a warm smile for him as she adds, "Tending the plants helps me, too." The imitation thing gives her a little pause and she lets her fingers sink to draw idle long strokes along his thigh as she thinks. "Do you ever get good enough to blend with the locals?" It's curious, but there's something to the question, some idea that's taken root for the goldrider. Nodding, "I just think it's good to never forget where you come from is all," T'gar is easy to explain on account of farming. "It's still who you are, even with the shiny knot and the queen dragon. I think it's a good thing that the Reaches has set up a wing of those who were crafters before they Impressed. I think skills like that for a Weyr is important, too." As for his own sort of skills, Dahlia's question earns a shrug from him and he answers, "Used to all the time. Best way to learn. Bet picking up Fort's own wouldn't be all that hard if I was here enough. Or even down south. Not to brag or anything," even though he did. "No, of course not," is agreement of the bragging, though Dahlia wears a smile that comes close to a smirk. Then she turns round to lean her arms against the bronzerider's chest and look at him. "Could you teach me? Would you?" She wouldn't be the first goldrider to long to have moments of anonymity. As for the craft wing, "I believe in remembering your roots, and I think Tundra is an admirable effort, but I'm not sure it's the right tact to take with the crafts, to be honest. Crafters have always been attentive to who's practicing their crafts, even if they can't control everyone. It seems to me that there might be better ways to deal with them and still be moving in the right direction, not that I begrudge any crafter who has the time and the desire to continue their craft the opportunity to do it, but it doesn't seem practical to me to dedicate a wing to that purpose." But Dahlia's not in charge of any wings, so her opinion matters little. "What about it would you want to learn?" T'gar asks, studying the weyrwoman. He's not quick to respond on the crafter wing, though he does simply state in disagreement,"Maybe not, but it's a start at least, for making the Weyr more sustainable. If that's the aim." Dahlia briefly has a look that suggests she's not saying something, but given that it's the matter of the craft wing or Weyr sustainability that she doesn't speak on, it probably relates to that. Either way, she's focusing on his question. "I think probably the worst thing about being a goldrider is that even when I go far from home, even when I take someone else's dragon, I'm rarely as unknown as I was the day we met. It would be nice to have the skills to go somewhere and just... blend. For the day. My face is known everywhere I know how to do that." Now that she's a goldrider and all. "I'd want to learn whatever I needed to learn to do that. To just show up somewhere and not be known or catered to." It sounds awful, doesn't it? "And, you think changing your accent and the way you walk is going to convince someone otherwise, weyrwoman?" T'gar is wry, angling his study on her before he shrugs. "Well. Who am I to judge? Teaching something like that isn't exactly easy. It's more about observing people in different locations. It's about not being here in Fort if you're serious about it. Unless there's someone here that has the accent and demeanor that you want to imitate, it would be hard for any weyrwoman to pursue something like this beyond it just being a bar trick for a few minutes. What I can tell you, though - besides there being easier ways than this-" he adds with the bravado of someone who knows, "is that you can start by just people-watching here. I'm sure not everyone here was born and raised in Fort. Get to know the drudges and the cavern workers. The stablehands. The bar tenders." "Oh," is a little crestfallen. Dahlia's sigh is wistful and she's nodding her head. "Yes, I do take your point." Leaning up, she presses a kiss to T'gar's cheek. "Thank you for being practical," since this particular goldrider does struggle in that area from time to time. "I'm sure it's more than I could manage and turn out to be any good at it. It's not like I have that kind of time, but it was a nice thought." One now condemned to join the many she's no doubt had for things she'd like to do one day. She shifts then to move toward the scented soapsand. It's nothing overly feminine, just a generic nice smell. At Dahlia's sigh, T'gar gives her a casual nudge and a, "Hey. Consider that an assignment, right? Take a look around and listen to people. Or eavesdrop, I mean. I don't think weyrwomen are even seen as eavesdroppers." He doesn't seem to like her dreams and ideas popped, hence the suggestion, but after a silent moment to watch her reach for the soapsand, "How about we get ourselves clean and then look at getting some food, hm? Maybe even show me the bar you have here in Fort later on?" He doesn't seem to have anywhere he needs to be for the remainder of the day. Dahlia turns back to give T'gar a muted smile. "No, darling," she politely declines the assignment. "It would be nice to think we can have the world and everything in it besides, but it just isn't so. My focus needs to be on Fort and if that means I have to manage always to be in my own skin, then that's how I'll manage. You like my skin well enough," she points out with wry humor. She's realistic, this Dee, but that's likely for the best. "Ours," she tells him almost conspiratorially, "is a bar and restaurant." Swanky. "Dinner's on me." |
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