Logs:Full Circle
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| RL Date: 7 August, 2016 |
| Who: K'del, Tamsin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del and Tamsin have a chat while doing some early morning egg watching. |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 6, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: F'manis/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, Sian/Mentions |
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| Here in the galleries, the beautiful, bright summer morning gives way to the familiar overwhelming, suffocating heat. Dressed in her riding gear (despite her jacket being folded over her arm), Tamsin can't mean to stay overly long, but maybe just a moment is enough for the brownrider. She leans on the front railing, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, her smile the silly sort that women sometimes get when cooing over a particularly adorable baby. This might just be her daily dose of "Aw~". It's not really K'del's habit to stare at eggs-- especially when they're not 'his' eggs, as it were-- but his eldest son has recently joined the candidates for this particular set of eggs, and perhaps there's something in that: the look the bronzerider has been giving the clutch from his seat a few rows behind Tamsin, is not far short of determined. Over-long sentences aside, he abruptly shifts in his seat, and-- it seems likely-- notices the brownrider for the first time. "They're cuter when they're actually dragons, though, aren't they?" Hello. Tamsin's mood must be less profound, given the bouncing and the fact that when the man speaks, she twists almost immediately before turning a little more properly so she can stand with her side pressing to the rail and address the speaker. "Oh, I don't know," is a bright, casual disagreement. "This is sort of as close as they ever get to being little things that stay where you put them. All full of possibilities." Her smile broadens a bit even if her eyes hold, very briefly, something a little sad. "Weyrleader," as a more formal acknowledgement is softened by the echo of shy affection that will probably always haunt her interactions with the man who was always too much older than she to be anything but a teenager's heartthrob, however briefly. "Possibilities," repeats K'del, his voice carrying with it a hint of heavy thoughtfulness, though not the kind that keeps him from smiling anyway, his fingers curving about the wooden seat beneath him, one hand on either side of his thighs. "Spent hours staring at 'em when I was a candidate, of course. Picked out which one would have my bronze in it," he's scathing of his own teenage self, of course, "and stared at it for hours. Hatched green, of course. Since then, though..." he shrugs. "But eggs are a positive, of course." "Well, hopefully Cadejoth isn't the jealous type." Tamsin's lips press together in a not-really-suppressed smile that shows her amusement as much as her tone of voice. "I suppose, though, in the end, what mattered was that your bronze was in one of the eggs. Some would say the act of sitting and thinking and wishing might have some meaning. Not for them, of course," her hand flicks in graceful gesture to the eggs, "but for you. Who can say if you would be the same man if you hadn't spent all those hours staring? Little choices add up to the sum of a life, I suppose." It's a little deep for this early in the morning, but what better place to have deep thoughts than in a room rich with possibility? "Eggs are always positive. We'll have a lot compared to some, like Monaco, but I suppose that's why it's good the weyrlings will be given the option to go." It's a playful thing, the breeze that zips along and seeks to leave the tingle of a tickle under Cadejoth's maw. It's a dare and a plea at once. There's time for play, isn't there? Just for a few moments. Just before the day's duty (an important thing, to be sure) must be done. Tyth is in the sky of the bowl, but hovering, waiting to see if his sire can be tempted into just a moment of fun. (A moment that might become long enough to fully fill the span of now until Duty if one isn't careful.) (To Cadejoth from Tyth) K'del's smile is as much answer as he gives to the idea of Cadejoth being jealous, because he's otherwise taken with the rest of what Tamsin has to say, his slow, meandering nod offering comment of its own. "That's true," he says, bypassing Monaco temporarily. "But then I think of my eldest... he did that, last time he Stood, but this time he's staying away. Did it let him down? Who can say." A moment of silence hangs after that comment, and then, blue eyes giving Tamsin curious consideration: "How do you feel about the Monaco business?" Play? There's always time for play-- always. Cadejoth's not yet taken to the air, but now he does: a whoosh of air beneath his wings, and then higher, higher higher into the blue, shooting past his son (if he can) to take towards the open sky beyond the bowl walls. Is it a race, now? (To Tyth from Cadejoth) "But that's a choice too," Tamsin's not really protesting, just highlighting a different perspective. "Staying away will have meaning for him as much as coming to see when all is said and done, whether one of these little ones are meant for him or not." She glances to the eggs and adds, "I only came when my friends were coming, or when someone wanted to talk about the eggs. And even then, I felt like I was making up fanciful stories more than hoping for something real. The real is always different from the stories," but the way that Tamsin smiles gently as she looks back at the bronzerider from the eggs indicates that she, at least, doesn't seem disappointed by the reality of her story. Then, of course, there's Monaco. "I've heard some grumblings each way, here and there," though probably nothing especially loud. "I think... it makes sense for Weyrs to help one another. I think it must be hard to sort wants from needs, things that would make us more comfortable versus things that might be necessary to other places. I think giving riders a choice is nice, but... there may come a time where deciding for some might be necessary. And I think I'm glad I'm not wearing your knot." She adds the last with a little hint of humor, eyes crinkling a little at the edges. Well, it wasn't a race, but it is now. Now that Cadejoth has gone and shot past Tyth, gone and given the brown a reason to make chase. Was this a race or tag? It's often a confused thing in Tyth's head - whether he's trying to catch up with Cadejoth or overtake him, but that's alright since it's fun either way. This son is on the larger end of the spectrum for browns so he doesn't have much advantage in his slightly smaller stature, but he makes the most of what he has, dipping powerful wings into the wind and sharing the wild pleasure of the sky with one who understands. (To Cadejoth from Tyth) That K'del worries about his son is plain from the way he shifts in his seat during this part of the conversation, and the frown lines in his brow, too. Still, aside from his slow nod as the brownrider speaks, he leaves that conversation alone-- for the moment-- in order to focus upon the rest of what she has to say, cracking a smile in the end for that last comment. "It's been said," he says, then, "that it's not always a good thing for us to be so attached to our Weyr; that we might be better off feeling less attachment, and thus being more willing to move, as required. But that's a hard thing. Once a place begins to feel like home..." "It's not helped by our lifestyle," Tamsin's tone is apologetic. "I've recently made the acquaintance of some of our journeyman harpers and it occurred to me that they see places in a way we never do, becoming a part of a place, and then knowing they will move on from there. There might be some young dragonriders who haven't put down enough roots that such a thing would feel more awkward than exciting who might be willing to do the same." She's thoughtful in her observation and then shrugs, "It would be a lot of change," and she probably doesn't mean just for the young dragonriders. "Traditionally, we don't care for change." We, dragonmen; we, the Weyr, we, the world. "No," agrees K'del. "We don't, do we? Change is hard." There's clearly something playing on his mind as he turns his gaze back towards the eggs, though he doesn't seem to be inclined to speak of it directly. Instead: "In any case, it'll be a good thing to improve our relations with Monaco, given givens. If a few of our young people end up there, that's to the best. Ditto, if a few of theirs remain. And the dragons will have who they have, as always." "Mending fences," Tamsin sums up of the exchange of young people. "Easier than building new fences, to be sure, and sometimes a better choice, or one that's just as good." She glances back out to the eggs and smiles, "It will all come right, somehow," holds a certainty that she probably couldn't explain if asked, but it seems to help that sunny outlook she has. "We're positioned well to be mending fences. Three fertile queens. A lot of eggs. A lot of possibilities." There are things turning over in Tamsin's pretty little head, but none yet given voice. Instead, "What's it like for you? When you're the rider of the clutchsire?" It's an abrupt change of topic and Tamsin looks almost immediately bashful for having asked. Mending fences, confirms K'del's nod-- and then another nod, too, on the topic of all those queens, all those eggs. He's surprised, according to his expression, for that question at the end, and leans back to consider it for several seconds before responding. "Cadejoth gets easily bored by it," he relates. "He's ever so proud, of course, but... sitting and watching is dull for him, and that never does much for me, either. As Weyrleader, there's plenty of your job you can do from the galleries, same as for the goldrider, which helps; imagine it's more complicated when you're not Weyrleader, on that front, since you've still got sweeps and drills and other duties, and it's a balancing act. Are you relieved, or disappointed, that your Tyth's not caught a queen thus far?" Despite her bashfulness, K'del's answer is genuine and easy, and comes, by the end, with a smile. Tamsin's expression shows that she's listening, really listening to the explanation the man has to offer. She makes a couple thoughtful noises as he goes along, nodding her head here or there. She glances back toward the eggs as she considers. "I'm not sure there's a real word that describes my feeling. My mother told me once that wanting a family, when your young, is like standing on one bank of a river, gazing at the other and desiring what you see there, but that those things are so distanced that you can't appreciate the nuances or intensity." The brownrider's dark gaze flick briefly to K'del, a flush of embarrassment touching her cheeks and causing her next words to be hurried, "It's a little like that, for me, with the idea of eggs. Tyth is Cadejoth's son," as they both know, but here she's probably speaking of likelihood to catch a queen as much as any other part of his temperament. "I'm curious about what things are really like, but whether or not that's a bridge we cross isn't up to me." "Mm," says K'del, almost more of an exhale than a comment, coming accompanied by a short nod. "Guess I can appreciate that. For me... Cadejoth was a father before I'd even really considered whether it was something we really wanted to chase or not." Lucky them. "But I felt it with actual children: desperately wanted them, despite being little more than a child myself at the time." He pauses, then shakes his head; he smiles ruefully. K'del's admission earns a little laugh from Tamsin, which she smothers quickly, leaving a smile. "Sometimes, it's better not to think before something happens. Sometimes it's better to dream. Maybe that's why your son came last time and isn't coming this time. Maybe this time, it's just better for him not to think before facing the sands. There's always time for thinking after a thing has happened unexpectedly." That's rueful. K'del opens his mouth, and then stops. He nods. "Think you might be right," he admits. "And... look, whatever the reasons are, for good or for bad, they're his reasons, right? His choices. He's older than I was when I became Weyrleader, so it's not like he's a child." By a given definition, anyway. He exhales, now, a sharp breath that nonetheless continues this theme of ruefulness. "He'd be horrified if he knew I was having a conversation about this. But that's a parent's job, I think." Tamsin's smile is understanding and she even has a firm nod as she confirms, "It is. He may be grown now, but he'll always be your child. And if you don't talk about things sometimes, the worry just grows to something it needn't ever be for the price of a handful of harmless words." She shrugs. Certainly Tamsin isn't going to be going around bragging that she got to be the Weyrleader's sounding board for his worries about his son, even if she does seem to have the reputation for being generally well-informed of the gossip mill's rumblings. K'del is, at least intermittently, her wingmate, so his business is protected under the unspoken codes that govern such things. "I suspect I ought to be along to my duties. The Wingleader's a reasonable man, but dropping your name as an excuse for being late..." She exaggerates her skeptical look and holds it a moment before smiling at him. "Have a good day, sir." She wishes him, but then waits for actual dismissal, good wingrider that she is. K'del opens his mouth, but stops himself before he says whatever it was he intended to. Instead; "Rather not get on F'manis' bad side, thanks all the same. Good talking to you, Tamsin. Have a good one, okay?" One hand idly dusts some (probably non-existent) sand from his trousers, but he makes no move to stand and make his own move: perhaps he's got more brooding to do. |
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