Logs:On Limits
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| RL Date: 6 March, 2016 |
| Who: Quint |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Quint's sister Gisele decides her future. |
| Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 3, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
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| In truth, it was rare that the Journeyman Harper was at an event where he wasn't the source of the music, rather than the recipient. It made his fingers twitch, like they were the ones plucking across the strings, crafting the tune to which the crowd danced and made merry. Instead, he danced. And he watched. He watched for his sister, so much so that even his current dance partner, a bright-eyed visiting Holder's daughter noticed; a faux pas for a trained harper like him. Quint laughed it off; offered to get her another drink. When she observed he'd hardly touched his, he agreed and took a larger sip -- then took the first opportunity to excuse himself and seek another pocket of well-wishers in which to stand and watch, taking small sips when toasts were made but never drinking too much -- just enough to be polite and go unnoticed. His 'third' glass was his first, and his 'fifth' was his second. And still Gisele did not appear. She was making a point. She didn't want to talk to him, even if he willed it otherwise. What would Rian have done? The thought made the harper laugh, darkly, to the startlement of the pair of riders he'd been standing with but talking little to; he gave them an apologetic smile and excused himself, heading for the exit. Perhaps his second had been his third, and if so, he was over his self-imposed limit. Quint stood out in the cold of the bowl, letting the snow gently drift down onto and around him, letting it cool him. Eventually, he saw a Reachian rider leaving that didn't appear too drunk, and requested a lift home; the greenrider glanced at him, grinning, and complied. Rian wouldn't have left. Wouldn't have waited for his sister to contact him. Rian would've done whatever it took, even if it was at the expense of Gisele's wishes. But boys grew up, and men aimed for patience, where it didn't otherwise hurt to do so -- not to anything other than his pride, at any rate. The waiting wasn't the worst part; patience was a skill he'd long grown adept to. It was the agony of not knowing. Being in the dark. Nearly four sevens later, they talked. Gisele wanted to stay at Fort, she said. Maybe even stand again next time, she added, like that was an option. They both knew she was lying to herself. They both pretended not to notice. |
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