Logs:A Cynic's Counsel
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| RL Date: 27 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Ka'ge, Taeliyth, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After the feast, Dee brings Ka'ge his things from the barracks and receives his drugged advice for the future. It's not exactly sunshine and rainbows. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: J'zen/Mentions |
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| By the time the Hatching Feast is all but said and done, little has changed in the barracks besides some pairs having fallen fast asleep. The interspersed buckets both emptied of meats and those with some still remaining have been removed from the floors and tables, the oils set aside for use when the pairs reawaken for the routines soon to become frequent efforts. Kaelige- Ka'ge now- still hasn't been taken by sleep, though the bronze hatchling who at once preferred the camouflage being beneath the cot may have offered him, is now found on the cot with the young man. The fact that both have dressings affixed to their chests in almost the exact same way is an ironic thing perhaps, as both are settled in their place. Zymadiath's hues of pain within his facets have subsided, and yellowed worry had simply never been. His third lid is closed though his others remain fighting against the sleep that vies there, more frequent blinking betraying the effort. His shadowed head lays on Ka'ge's belly observant of his chest of course, and the young man's arm lay across the bronze's back despite the hooked back-ridges that line it. Taeliyth didn't sleep as she ought to have. Nor, probably, did Dee know of her wakefulness once the dragonhealers arrived to deal with the bronze's problems. Who can say when exactly she woke, but the subtle curl of vines intertwining of their own volition extends to bolster the shadowy mind. The gold isn't the sort of dragon to care whether her efforts are invasive or wanted, so Zym got her attempt to take the edge off his pain, to fix the problem in so far is the dragon is able. If caught at it, there's only stoic stubbornness to meet any complaint, and sleep -- or apparent sleep again after. Dee looks done in by the time she arrives, her dress drooping as much as her shoulders and loose hair seem to be. The droop might, in part, be due to the burdens she carries. They're sacks, and she detours to her cot, dropping one before bringing the other toward the-- bronzerider's wallow and cot. She's trying to be quiet as she delivers the sack to the foot of his bed, but Dee is no Ka'ge when it comes to silent movements. Those shadows are unforgiving in their depths, leaving one to wonder if he's even within them. But, that darkness is unquestionable, tainting every aspect of consciousness he touches. And he doesn't quite ignore Taeliyth, those aspects of figures whispering at the edges of her efforts, shadows maybe becoming something, maybe a face, maybe a direction unknown. The maybe is always there. But he is distracted, especially when the dragonhealers come, he pays his golden sister little heed in the youthful confusion and distress even he cannot hide. Hissing, growling, they call come to be as any but his own request to tend to the gashes along his chest. Ka'ge, by then numbed by salves and teas alike by persistence of the weyrlingmaster staff and healers alike, had been able to curtail the most unpleasant of reactions. And now, both are left to their own to rest even if neither had given themselves into it. A voice, unable to be tailored from its evident exhaustion mixed with the drugged drawl, comes when she drops that sack at his new bed, "How did it go?" Dee moves to where he should be able to see her better, the fabric of her layered dress curling about her as she comes to an abrupt stop and sinks to the floor beside the cot again. "They did worse than stare," she sighs, "they talked." Now, she reaches a hand to touch-- but not him. She's offering the hand to the bronze for a gentle exploring caress of headknobs and jaw if he'll have it from her. "I brought your things from the barracks. I wasn't sure you'd be up to getting them and thought you'd want your clothes." This explains the sack. "Would you like me to put them away?" So they're not just out? "They'll judge you." Ka'ge, insomuch as he ever is helpful, offers the obvious, the cruelty of what's to come in the simplest understatement. A grunt as he shifts, the bronze dragonet laying on him lifting his head with the change, further awakening from whatever twilight they'd both been in. "Don't listen." A sharp instruction- clearly easier said than done. Though he leaves out most of his meaning, he isn't thinking clearly enough to care, not that he may care in his right mind either. One shadow-imbued wing stretches out to its oversized length, heavily too large for his smallish size. Smug, the little one is, even for his bare age, but it's with an unspoken understanding that he allows the touch from this one. Taeliyth's. No, Dahlia. A clicking comes from the darkened creature's throat, low and untelling of intentions. "Leave it. Come here." An abrupt and direct answer to her question. Dee looks upset, though it's so much more than what might be provoked by Ka'ge's words. Stroking soft hide seems to help head off any inner spiraling going on, but it doesn't stop her from shifting onto her rump next to his cot, nearer his head than his dragon, hand withdrawn by necessity of limited reach. Is this what he meant by here? Dee doesn't seem to be overthinking that. "I was going to become a master," is what she murmurs next. "With a green, I might've... but--" She looks up to the boy with fresh confusion in her face. "They kept saying gold. She really is one, isn't she." It's not really a question; the fact can't have escaped her notice even if her mind is fighting hard to deny it full stop. "It won't be fine." Ka'ge's words continue with that bluntness, though there's no harshness to it. There can't be with the fuzziness of his mind obscuring his barriers. It could be said the little bronze beside him is keeping it in place as much as he is. "it will be politics and arguments and." A pause as he forces himself to roll over onto his side, eyes closing in the effort, to be able to look at her more clearly, "a bunch of bullshit." But there's a light grin on his face, the cockiness not quite quick enough to keep up with his words as mind lulls behind motions, "But your brother Impressed." There's a slack in his tone that implies 'and I did', as if that means something. Zymadiath lays his head back down, now on the young man's side, his eyes lidding the rest of the way. Dee shifts again, restlessly. "I don't want it, Kael. Any of it." The girl leans up on her knees to bring her face closer to his, leaning her elbows on the edge of his pillow. "You wanted to be Weyrleader, not me. I just-- wanted to go home." It becomes apparent in this moment that Taeliyth isn't nearly so asleep as she was professing to be. « Sucks to be you, doesn't it, Dahlia. Want to come here and cry about it? » It's narrow enough that only the bronze might hear her sharp words. The thing is, words can hurt and it goes both ways. Dee bites her lip, eyes scrunching shut as if she just might cry. « The sooner you get over it, the better. So I'm gold. So you didn't want this. Too bad. You've got it. You've got me, » and shouldn't that be enough for Dee? « and don't think you can pretend for even one moment that you wish I hadn't been in that egg waiting for you now that you've met me. » The cockiness returns. It always shall. Somewhat unfocused eyes watch her own, easiness in them that isn't fair in this situation. Granted, he does have an advantage. Ka'ge is quiet for too-long a time, watching her. Not just her expression, but just her. It feels like a question, though made as a statement, he's asked before, but it comes again professed and drawn out by his exhaustive state, "You really wanted to leave." Zymadiath is rather suddenly uneasy, roused from his almost-sleep from multiple directions. The darkness that had been at but the edge of the weyrling dragons' combined consciousness caresses the edge of his golden's sister's words, vying for purchase as those figures at the end of a darkened tunnel skim by some dim glow's failing light. The silhouettes dart again, and then stay, creeping forwards as if pronouncing themselves as present, watchful, waiting. But words are not offered to his sister. No, this is her own battle even if he is but vigilant from the shadows. "Not--" Dee tries to compartmentalize between dragon and boy. She looks back toward where her dragon's eyes may now be seen, and then to the boy. There's a scoffing sound from the gold, but no more audible words. "Not you," the girl looks back to the boy, her tone plainly one of the torn types of teens. She must have been given some degree of permission to deal with this-- with him first before dealing with her dragon. Taeliyth's mind is disgruntled, but she's ticking off her patience as Dee wastes it, quietly. The brunette reaches a hand to run her fingers through his hair, if he'll have it, a brief show of the confusing affection she feels. "I'm not going anywhere now," is almost apologetic, but it's the best she has to try to offer some comfort. "We'll... both be here. And we can... see. I mean, later." Later. "You'll be so busy, you'll forget about me." Ka'ge's humor isn't completely lost. They surely wouldn't give him enough of anything to upset a hatchling, nor did he want anything to start with. "What with all the riders of the Weyr after you in a turn's time." A chuckle is attempted but quickly abandoned with the effort it takes. His eyes close as she touches his hair, and the bronze rises. Though, creeps would be a better word than rises as he barely makes enough room to not rub his patched wound against the cot's bedding or the young man he crawls over. Those eyes, eerily bright against his dark face, watch her carefully as he now claims the very edge of the cot. The dragonet nigh balances there, stretched out along the young man himself. The confusing feelings seem directed at this one and now, at this age, it is incomprehensible and cause for intervention. A rumbling, curious but not threatening, comes from deep in Zymadiath's throat as his small, shrouded bronze head angles at the once-farmcrafter now-goldrider. « Yours- » His shadows pause, and then return to their writhing, « Dahlia makes mine confused. Shouldn't you console her, not him? » "I don't want that either," Dee answers his attempted joke with a miserable tone and matching look. She sighs, letting herself have one more moment in which to share that touch before she rises. She leans down to let one hand touch the neck of his robe, fingers lingering a moment before brushing soothingly across his cheek. "I can't forget you. You carry a piece of me with you." It seems she'll leave it at that cryptic remark while Taeliyth snorts her annoyance - not at the bronze, but rather at her lifemate. « She doesn't deserve to be consoled and you can tell him I said so. And she would stop confusing him if he would stop confusing her. » So there. She huffs. "Get some sleep, Kael. I have to go talk to her." « We'll go on as we are. » Zymadiath's gravelly mindvoice is confident but evasive, the shroud of shadows coming in full as a blanket over his consciousness. He is there, he always would be, but deeper now as if withdrawn from this battle for which he has no part to be in. Ka'ge opens his eyes after her touch ends. The mild look is still there, the one with the smugness that never quite faded but with the smoothed edge brought on by the drain of the night that's gone by, "Maybe." Not a real answer, another deep breath given, "We'll see." Hasn't he said that before? "I can't tell you what you will or won't do." The cryptic remark lends to him raising a hand, a finger touching the collar of his robe somewhere near that heart sewn in there. Another attempted chuckle, another abandonment of the attempt precedes, "I noticed." "I thought you should have a heart," Dee murmurs, looking down at him, her tone tired but still wry. "I didn't know I was giving you a spare." It could be taken a number of ways, but the girl probably doesn't realize that otherwise she'd never leave his drug-hazed mind to run down those possibilities. She turns to go, but almost immediately, she's looking back. "I'm still Dee, you know? That much hasn't changed." Hasn't it? Won't it? Questions for another day. It's time to face the increasingly impatient dragon awaiting her. "Sleep." She instructs him before she's out of a quiet murmur's earshot. Not far away, she runs through her evening routine to prepare for the same herself (it doesn't look like the talking she claimed she had to do, but who hurries to talk to a pissed off gold?). |
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