Logs:Down the Rabbit Hole
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| RL Date: 6 June, 2015 |
| Who: R'hin, Leiventh, Keysi, Neianth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin brings Keysi a weyr-warming gift and a choice. |
| Where: Hidden Secrets Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Late night, heavy snow |
| Mentions: A'gon/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Jo/Mentions |
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>---< Hidden Secrets Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1184R) >-----------------------< Inside, the mundaneness continues with clean floors and bare walls. Neither small nor large, the cavern is relatively warm with a hearth as is typical of many weyrs at High Reaches and a large rug that lies before it. Simply woven, the rug is made up of neatly patterned blocks of primary colors and adds a festivity to the otherwise somnolent weyr. All in all, it seems serviceable as living quarters with the exception of some variants in the coloring of the stone walls, a large panel-like rectangle a slightly darker shade of stone than the rest, and when the rug is shook out, underneath the glint of a tiny latch catches whatever light might be available. Night time. Keysi always found the night comforting, easier to stay up late than to rise early though her current schedule isn't so forgiving of that inner clock. There's something about the quiet that keeps her up, this barely second night of being in her own weyr. It's the utter quiet of being in a place by herself that is so very new, so very different. Safety was never found in being alone. Not where she came from. Keysi stands alongside Neianth who is much like a guardian statue overlooking the bowl from their exceptionally high perch. A hand is on the sorrel brown of his upper shoulder, right where it fades into the dark black-touched tones of his lower legs. His blackened wings are furled slightly, cutting off the most sheering aspects of the winds that whip around them, carrying the unrelenting snow. Perhaps it's to remind her she's not really alone. Not anymore. They're both thoughtful, both serious in this semi-meditation as the quiet is betrayed by watching the specks of light meander across the bowl as 'folk brave the weather with a basket of glows with them. A new perspective, if nothing else. There's not much warning, really. With the snow falling constantly, Leiventh can't even be seen as more than a rapidly approaching shadow until his shape resolves itself in landing on Neianth's ledge, all familiar like. The rumbling of greeting to the brown is more felt than heard; and the bronze's rider, rugged up in leathers, soon drops to the ledge, glancing in the owner's direction. There's a nod for Neianth, and a grin for Keysi, before R'hin turns to rummage in the saddlebags of Leiventh's straps. "Ah, good, you're here." As if there was a chance she wouldn't be, on a night like this, this late. With the girl so lost in her thoughts for once, it's Neianth who catches both the approaching shadow and the feeling of greeting. It's met with the sensation of a rippling, an undulating across conciousnesses, steady and weighty as defines his mental presence. The young brown standing and shifting off to the side brings Keysi's attention upwards, snapped really in a response only briefly delayed from Neianth's assessment. The brown for himself rumbles quietly as if approving, and as if approving is necessary. Given the ledge is not the largest, it's good that Neianth is both a weyrling and a small one at that. "R'hin." Comes both the statement and the question, though the wingleader likely couldn't have had better timing. "Of course. We have earlier line-" She cuts herself off, finding the details unnecessary. "What brings you?" Comes the down-to-business greeting. It's not unfriendly. Rather, the opposite. For Keysi, that's a pretty inviting statement. And she's not completely daft, stepping a foot back as if to indicate they could get out of the weather if he wishes inside. One, two, three items are removed carefully from Leiventh's saddlebags, before R'hin takes a step back. A moment later, Leiventh all but drops from the ledge, using the height to gain speed before his wings snap out and he glides off into the snow-shrouded distance. The Savannah Wingleader watches him for a beat, before seeming to become aware of his distraction, with a flickering hint of unusual awkwardness, quickly glossed over as he strides towards weyrling dragon and rider. "I come bearing gifts, of course." He considers the wordless offer with a tip of head, and then assents with a smile, turning to stride inside as if taking the invitation to heart. The items -- two bottles and a small, wrapped package, are set on the nearest flat surface, before he goes to inspect her weyr with pacing intensity. Neianth's dark wings spread as if tempted to follow Leiventh's far more practiced drop and glide. His eyes whirl, the facets shifting between aggitated and excited hues. White talons clip the edge of the ledge as his tail twitches all but once in barely caught impatience. But he'd not go without his rider, not with R'hin joining her in the inner weyr. Settling back on his haunches, his reflective pool receeds but doesn't quite vanish from the more prominent presence it had saught. Keysi watches R'hin, though she seems wordless at his statement that seems so very.. like a common place thing. "Gifts? What for- the weyr?" Of course it's an exhilirating time, but housewarming gifts also weren't on her radar. Unfortunately when R'hin steps inside he'll find a very plain place. Nothing yet on the walls, and even the brightly primary-colored rug had been rolled up and removed. The hearth burns warmly, a good sized bed rests not-yet well-placed along a wall, and two chairs sit in front of the hearth. Not much a remodeler. "..Telavi was helping me get furniture." Is what she comes up with as an apology. As he sets down the items, she follows shortly behind him to retrieve one of the bottles. "Is this..?" Tea is what she thinks of first, grey eyes turning up to study him as he moves. "For you," R'hin corrects, with a grin. But his interest is more in the space she's chosen, taking note of the lack of personality. "Mm. Ought to get A'gon helping you. He's good with... style," the bronzerider says, before finally circling back towards the table where Keysi stands. The bottles are both whites, one a very good Benden vintage, the other an unfamiliar label from the Monaco region. He reaches past her to tap the bottle she's picked up, "One good, for celebration. One not so good, for entertaining. Or flights. Or just in case." In case of what isn't elaborated on. He moves past, now, reaching for one of the chairs and turning it around, settling down and resting hands on the back. The package isn't referenced for now, but perhaps he's relying on her curiosity to get the best of her. "I have some ideas." Keysi says eventually, the bottle of good Benden causing her voice to trail off. In the firelight, there's some gentle creases on her face, foregoing the seriousness that typically blands it into nothing but a neutral mask. Perhaps it's the slight upturn of her lips, pale as the rest of her, into what just could be a hesitant if demure smile. But then there's a shake of her head, and although she doesn't quite recollect herself her grey gaze turns on him with a light of accusation, "After all that talk about never drinking?" There's no harshness to it, however, even if the intensity of her natural demeanor isn't completely gone. There's a light sound not all unlike a cough though it's placement may suggest a curtailed chuckle. "Entertaining.. Like for you, now?" It's an offer, or another accusation, more than a question. The good bottle is set down gingerly- which seems like extra effort- and calloused fingers do drift next to the package. "And this?" As if he'd divulge before she opens it. "There's talk," R'hin counters, with a gesture to the bottle, "And there's reality. When the latter kicks in, I don't want you crawling into the dregs of Anvori's meagre stores." A beat, as lips twist, "Consider it an emergency stash, if you will. Stick in in a cupboard. One day, you won't regret having done so." At her chuckle, he grins, yet shakes his head, easily. "No. Not for me, now. I'm far too scared of Quinlys." That's probably overexaggerated, given the glimmer of amusement in pale gaze. Her latter question only earns a gesture of encouragement, watching keenly. When she does open it, the scent is subtle, herbal but not familiar. Inside is a small package of dried plant material -- nothing particularly impressive, really. "You asked about the tea," he finally says. Keysi leans against the side of the other chair with the small of her back, her fingers pausing over the folds of the package as she studies the wingleader as if there's something else to read there. "We could take that as a challenge." Whether she means getting into the wine stores or keeping with all her idealistic talk, it's unclear. Either way, she unfolds the package to find the material while continuing, "You're scared of Quinlys? Really, Wingleader? You're a few years beyond weyrlinghood." But she's not, obviously. She almost raises a brow at him, almost. Fortunately the revealing of what's within takes her attention beforehand. There's a fleeting look about her as she lifts it a little closer to her face that she suspects he brought her medicinal herbs, some that even she wouldn't recognize despite her studies. But his clarification comes in appropriate time, "The potent-?" Seriousness collects itself on her expression again, dissolving the ease of before. "Could," said Wingleader allows with a low-throated chuckle, though he's doing nothing to encourage her, really. As to the current Weyrlingmaster, "Mm. She's very... strong. I respect that," is R'hin's opinion on Quinlys. It's very possible he's pulling her let, and yet he seems honest enough, easy expression while he studies the weyrling in turn. "No," he replies, rather sharper than he means, taking a breath -- if she's watching closely there might be a moment of unease buried beneath fleeting grimace. "It's dried, stored in the sun for a time. Stronger than what you drank before -- only because it's fresher. I'd advise only using a pinch, however. Maybe have someone watch over you the first time you use it, just to be sure." The caution might sit oddly on the usually advocating bronzerider, yet there's an odd seriousness to him all the same. Keysi listens but makes no attempt at replying to his opinions on the weyrlingmaster, though a heavy breath may indicate something of a disagreement in the mists of it. And once her attempt at identifying the leaves had ended in failure mixed with his answer from before, greys eyes had returned to watching him. Intense and studious, her observance of the sharp reply and short grimace keeps her wordless. The draw of silence following his description and warning is short but somewhat heavy in thought. Eventually, "What's your experience?" Caution appears to draw this statement, her tone stable, nonfluctuating as she chooses the question. R'hin's, "With the tea?" is deliberately light. "Some interesting dreams that I," his fingers tap at the back of the chair, voice dipping into amusement, "Ought not to share with such a young, impressionable mind, but," with a flicker of fingers, "Some that were less pleasant. It's, they say, a reflection of your state of mind. The things that you try to hide, even from yourself. And that's... not always guaranteed to be... pleasant." A beat, wherein his gaze fixes on Keysi. "What did you dream of, the first time?" Keysi isn't this time coaxed into her lighter state. She's still, as if intending to wait out a better answer. "I'm not that impressionable." That might not be entirely true spoken by the one so focused on other things than.. well.. yeah. Studying eyes, those that have a flare behind them, search the wingleader's expression. "If it's your state of mind it's based off of, I think I shouldn't even try." She's not serious despite her level words, but she intends it as a hint. "It seems it would be a problem if you have more things you don't wish to think about than do." Her hands tuck the ends of the parcel together, "I dreamt about what I always dream about." As if that's enough of an answer. Keysi stands straighter, turning from him enough that her shoulder is to him, her head down just enough to look at the package instead of him. "What made you want to do this to yourself?" There's a lift-and-drop of R'hin's shoulders, as he says, "Sometimes, self-awareness is an important part of growth. Especially," just a hint of an emphasis there, as pale eyes meet hers, "If you are learning where to go. Where you want to go. What you want to become." Her answer, as unenlightening as it is, still holds the Savannah rider's attention for the span of a few heartbeasts, lips twisting wryly, transitioning into a low-throated chuckle. "I have never been content with my lot in life, Keysi. The things that I've wanted to achieve will forever be beyond my reach, but I still strive, because it is not in my nature to simply give up, to go with the flow, and let fate decide where I should end up. Recognizing all the parts of oneself -- good, bad, and otherwise -- is invaluable." The look Keysi passes to R'hin is one mixed of frustration and bewilderment, the emotions betraying her often impenetrable guard. However the question that should follow the look is bitten back for knowledge of its ignorance, and instead proceeds with the same amount of precautionary pauses. "What.. more.. did you wish to achieve then?" The girl asks of the wingleader, the once-weyrleader. "What more would have made you content?" The second question she gives less pressure, given it's more personal implications. The wisdom of age he presses on her forces a sigh, a squaring of her shoulders as if preparing to face someone- something?- with her reply. "Where I've been made me what I am. I learned from it then. You really think I will learn more from reliving it?" And all of this, R'hin takes in silence, her changing expressions. He doesn't push despite that unasked question that sits in the pause in the air that follows. "That is the thing of it. I am never content. Never will be," is his straightforward answer. It's the latter question that earns a tired, rueful sort of smile. "Yes. What we were is what molds who we are today. To understand that is to understand ourselves. That doesn't mean," he lifts a hand, grimacing, "You need to run to it. Embrace it. But the past mistakes of our life follow us all of our lives, no matter how far we run." "That's exactly the problem." Unfortunately Keysi has a temper, and the flush of fire into her pale face demonstrates the start of it, "I have been running for more turns that I can recall. From memories, places, people. I've come this far, I've hidden this well." Her hand, still gloved in her riding gear sweeps shortly to indicate the plain room. 'All her turns' seem like a lot in her eyes. The fire simmers but doesn't flare as she realizes how much she'd said. And she can't take it back. There's a blink at R'hin, and then a very pointed look away from him. "Your tea before," She hesitates, another breath taken as her volume lowers, "I dreamt as I always did but I could control it. It doesn't sound like this would be nearly as pleasant." The word pleasant is heavy with mixed meaning. There's sympathy, and strangely -- understanding, too, in R'hin's gaze at the weyrling's words. When she looks away after she's realized what she's said, he says, "We're all hiding from things, Keysi. I'm still running from a thirteen Turn old boy who thought he knew how the world worked, thought he knew better, was better than everyone, and learned how very, very wrong he was. That boy is still a part of me. He whispers in my ears, and tries to influence my decisions. But the fears of the past are a ghost in our heads, as often as not. You can't ignore them. But you don't have to be ruled by them, either." He gestures towards the package. "This gives you control. Control can overcome fear." A beat, a moment of heavy regard, before he offers, "If you like, I can watch over you. I can always wake you if need be. Or -- get someone you trust. One should never live a life being afraid of truth. That is paralysis." There's an awkward discomfort that keeps her very still, muscles tense as if ready to spin and hit something. Keysi looks up only to stare at a wall as blank as her face. "My ghosts aren't all dead." She's come this far, might as well finish. The weight she puts on it seems to mean she isn't being overly dramatic. Keysi doesn't do overly dramatic unless outraged. There's some lessened tension as R'hin talks, unwinding the coil slowly that she'd set to spring. "If there's still people that count on me running, you still consider it wise to face it all?" Calmer now, resolved in the fact that she'd spoken her mind, resolved further that what's done is done. "Do you intend to tell anyone? About anything?" It's not an agreement to his offeryet, but she's not even told Edyis that much. There's a lot of catch in her words, as if trust is just not a thing. "Yes," R'hin replies, without hesitation. "The thing is," he leans his weight forward as if to impress the importance of his words, "The position you're in now -- you're a rider of High Reaches. For a lot of us," not all, noteably, "That means something. It means you'll always have people, whether it be clutchmates, or an entire wing, or the entire fucking Weyr, who will have your back. It isn't a small thing. And it does come with a price. But you are not alone, in facing anything, if you choose not to be." His brows go upwards at her latter question, a little surprised perhaps, a rueful little smile appearing, "About what? About... being human? Having a past? Everyone has a past, Keysi. Some of us worse than others. I'm not one to share other's secrets. Got far too many of my own to do that." Keysi turns to level her stone-grey eyes on R'hin finally. "I can pay prices, but I don't do it by risking others." But it's the last of his former statement, the concept of choosing, that makes her stance lose some of its ground. "I don't intend to put my weight on someone else when I can carry it myself." A stop, a consideration. She's listening, she's hearing. "-But.." She starts, stops, and uses her thumb to let an edge of the package fall open again, the herbal smell becoming so much more prominent again. "I guess I shouldn't expect them to do what I don't do myself." Very quiet, that. 'Them' meaning her clutchmates, a wing, the Weyr, it doesn't matter. "We're disjointed, the weyrling wing. We spend more time bickering and avoiding each other than supporting.. I've felt a duty to them, some are friends. It's been not much more than that." A beat, and an answer to the latter. "Yes. I don't want-" But his words are enough. The pause she gives after is a choice in itself- to believe the one giving her drugs and alcohol, or not. R'hin shakes his head, slightly, his disagreement with her stance firm: "It isn't weak to ask for someone to watch you back. To stand with you when the time comes. To lay a hand on your shoulder simply to say, I'm there." He pauses a moment, takes a breath, before continuing. "And neither, is it weak, to ask for someone to risk themselves on your risk, as you will, inevitably risk themselves on them. It is the nature of riding a dragon. It is the risks that bound us together in Thread, and less strongly after for all that, but all wings feel it." As she talks of her clutchmates, he nods, slowly, unsurprised. "You haven't gelled together yet. Perhaps it will still come. I didn't -- my clutchmates fought bitterly when we were living together, but it was after we had our own weyrs that we truly become like a family. Those bonds have served me well, and still do, today. If not -- perhaps you'll find more luck in your wing, too." Her latter answer has him tipping his head, watching her evenly, deliberately not influencing her one way or another, exuding patience. "It isn't the first time I've been told that." Keysi allows, though her tone still neutral. "But not like that." She shakes her head, "I haven't been any other way." Meaning, it's more change. "You've seen a lot of people grow, I'm sure. You have your own..." Keysi tries to reflect back on what he'd said, but fails to place words to it, "I don't doubt what you say, but it's not so easy as just letting go." But even as she says it, her pale gaze flicks down to the herb-filled parcel. Maybe it is. The recognition, the joining all the things he'd said thus far seems to come as she considers it again in a different way. "I can't speak openly of these things again, not for awhile." Is that an answer? It certainly seems so in a roundabout way. She's hedging, not wanting to openly be defeated. Even if it really is a stronger thing than defeat. "Why do you want to help me, R'hin? From darts to this? Somehow in the span of a few sevendays you know more about me than anyone here." "It takes time," R'hin acknowledges, with a spread of hands. "I should know. Hard to let go of effectively what's been a lifetime of habits. Habits that you feel kept you safe, kept others around you safe." He acknowledges her need for time, for discretion, with a simple nod, and follows it up instead with: "How does Neianth see your place in the Weyr?" His hands drop to the back of the chair again, a low-throated chuckle escaping him. "It is my gift to see the potential in people. I hate to see that wasted. Besides -- kindred souls recognize each other, so the harpers like to say," even if there's a snort for the harper saying. "My bet is you'd grow rather fond of Jo, rather quickly. Remind me to introduce you two some time, if you haven't already met." "As a starting point. There is no end to what we will accomplish, and there's a Weyr full of lives to protect." A beat, "To help protect." Despite the change in subject- or addition to the subject- her vehement answer has no hesitation to it. It's as if those words sit at the back of her mind, their mind, all the time. The 'we' is reflexive, despite the relatively short time the pair have been together. Keysi wonders after the mention of his 'gift' but for all she may try to unravel it into something else, it must be comforting or at least is believed to be a good enough reason. "I've heard her name mentioned." She says though has yet to place a face to. "I- we- want to be the best." Of 'what' seems to be related to her first answer to him. "Kindred souls?" The thought backs her down a step, a hint of her tension draining. "Has she done this?" The hand holding the package rises. R'hin, for his part, seems oddly pleased by this answer, even glancing towards the ledge with a noise of approval in his throat. "You two strike me as a good match." As if that is not always the case, and thus worth commenting on. His smile at her question of Jo is genuine, oddly warm for him. "This," the Wingleader gestures to the package. "No. There's a... way in which you imbibe the non dried form, in a certain setting. It's much more... potent. We have done that. But I... would not recommend it. Not for you. Not yet." A darker timbre enters his voice, firm for all that. "We're the same. He just does the things I do not let myself do." Keysi's fondness spills into her level tone just enough to be apparent. She catches the warmth, regards him as he speaks with her in mind. "I wouldn't either." The first direct agreement of the evening on the case of the more potent herbs. There's the sound of a cut-short cough, that thing that's supposed to be her chuckle and the final step taken away from her building temper of earlier. It helped to speak of Neianth. "I will ask that of you." Her grey eyes are almost soft, but the intensity would always win over like stone unmoved by gentler waves. "That you stay with me for this dreaming, if you have time." Though he's been up here with her this long, that seems like an unnecessary caveat. That her talk of her dragon is interesting to the Savannah Wingleader is obvious, though he doesn't pursue it; perhaps tucking it away for a later conversation, nodding slowly instead of answering. "Leiventh has abandoned me," R'hin reminds her with a gesture towards the ledge, with a low-throated laugh. "Where else could I go?" He pushes upwards, nodding towards her hearth, "Put on some hot water. I'll find a cup. Surely you have a cup?" It's probably just an excuse for him to rifle through her cupboards, an innate curiosity that he doesn't try to hide. That which should be in cupboards are in a couple of crates. The lack of furniture carries over to a lack of storage. She has a lot of work to do, or perhaps for A'gon to do if she follows up on his earlier recommendation. Keysi moves when he does, though the hesitation is lost. There's a rumbling from outside as the pair start moving around instead of just talking, but oddly enough for all that the young brown is protective, there is no aggitation to the sound and it soon subsides. The girl retrieves a kettle and motions towards the other two trunks. There's surely cups in there somewhere. She fills the old beaten kettle with water and places it over the hearth without another word. There aren't many clothes or personal belongings in those crates. A little wooden dragon statue, a few weird plushies, and two round balls that appear to be made out of dry bladders. If that isn't weird enough, the bottom of one crate has at least four daggers of varying sizes tucked neatly within. "He wouldn't come get you if you begged?" Humor, dry, as she looks back at him as she stands nearer the hearth, arms folded. R'hin moves, from empty cupboards to the crates, perhaps taking longer than he ought to in inspecting some of the other items that are in there, lingering on that selection of daggers. There's no betraying in his expression of what he's seen when he finally returns to the table with a couple of cups. He shakes his head at Keysi's question, admitting, "He'd come and get me if I dared ask another dragon to take me down, though," with a low-throated chuckle, one of fondness and long acceptance of his dragon's proclivities. Pointing to the package, he says, "A pinch of that for you, should do. Plain water for me." Keysi probably notices his expression as he returns from his search, but she doesn't comment on it for sake of not needing to explain if he doesn't either. "What is Leiventh like?" It's a question she does wonder about, but also serves to cover the time until the water boils. She may not hesitate in action once a challenge is set before her, but that doesn't mean small things- like right now and wanting him to talk about something- don't give away some hint of the building fear. Eventually, she'd pour the steaming water to both the cups, a pinch added as instructed and wordlessly. The question, clearly, catches R'hin off guard, unusual enough for the bronzerider, and it takes him a moment to form an answer. "He's... guarded, around others. He hasn't much interest in people. Dragons more so, but not when they're young. He has a sense of... I guess you might say, decorum that he works hard to impose. He's insightful, though, and introspective -- there's little he doesn't miss. He indulges me even when we've both aware I'm doing something stupid. And he won't hesitate to call me stupid, before, during and after," there's a laugh, familiar too her now -- one of pride and fondness and a warmth that can't be explained to one that's not a rider. He nods, approvingly, at the amount of tea, gesturing with a finger to indicate she should stir it. "Give it a few minutes to steep before you drink." Keysi listens, looking at the crushed herbs as they sit on the surface of the steaming water. The thoughtful staring goes only long enough until she's reminded to stir it. There's two spoons- why two, perhaps she just wasn't thinking about his drinking of only water. Her breaths are quiet but short, her chest tight. Leaden as her legs are, she thinks wiser of standing in front of fire and turns to sit in one of decently comfortable chairs left in the weyr by its prior tenant. Her interest in his bronze is there, and she eventually turns her grey eyes up to him, especially at the stupid comment and the laughter with that particular fondness she can't help but divulge a small grin towards. Something's so honest about it, it gets to her every time. But she really doesn't have words, so caught up, so worried. Keysi doesn't let herself worry but it's about as plain as day on her face with that cracked facade. "R'hin.." His name, quiet, but it's to no end of an actual question. She'd after a couple minutes of that though tip the cup back to her lips, eyes closed. R'hin's attention has wandered, faded in that distant way that riders get, something abruptly saddened in his gaze before he refocuses attention on Keysi as she says his name. His expression schooled to something more comforting, he leans forward. "Neianth is with you. Don't be afraid. Or if you are," a hint of his usual humor, "Remember he can bite heads off... even in a dream, if you want it." He's silent, otherwise, while she drinks, lifting his cup, devoid of the herbs, to his lips, to sip in kind, though gaze doesn't waver from her, now. Keysi kept her eyes closed through drinking, and perhaps shortly beyond. She'd open them to see the abrupt sadness in R'hin's expression, having missed the draconic trance before it. And perhaps there's even a fleeting glaze of mild panic in her eyes. A look so foreign, she's not even sure how to address her own reaction. Instead, "I swore off anything that would change my ability to..defend myself and others.." Drowsiness is quick. Perhaps even quicker than expected. "You.." Another accusation? It seems to be. Head is heavy, Neianth seeming farther away- father than the ledge can be heard growling lowly perhaps in support of R'hin's statement more than anything else. She sets the cup down. "I don't want.." It's a little late to take it back, but maybe that's not what she means. Either way, she's out pretty fast, slouching in the chair. R'hin opens his mouth; perhaps it's to explain, or reassure, or something, but whatever it is, his words are distant, hazy, and unrecognizable. Even the Wingleader seems surprised at how quickly she passes out, and he rises, frowning down at her. After a moment of consideration, and a, "I'm just making her comfortable," aloud that is undoubtedly for Neianth's sake, he reaches down to pick her up and carry her over towards her bed. There are other things he does, too, while she sleeps; rummaging in that crate and selecting one of those plush toys and, after a moment, one of the daggers, too, putting the first next to her and the second under her pillow. Then he moves his chair closer, to where he can see her, taking his cup of water with him, slouching into the chair to wait. The Dream of Letting Go Whatever goes on in the dream, she doesn't seem to be 'winning' like she had before, at least not by the sweating, the lines on her face, the mumbling that never quite achieves the volume or annunciation to be real words or screams or whatever may be going on. When she wakes, it's a sudden thing, in fact she sits up as soon as the paralysis of sleep subsides and swings as if to punch somebody. Something. The darkness of the forest gives way to the cool stone, the night sky to the firelight of a quiet hearth. The caravan's driver to.. R'hin. She's panting, the plush he'd laid beside her falls tumbles a foot away and she glances from it to the wingleader. Confusion swirls as what was the past returns to the present in that instant. Words fail her, her mouth dry despite a drink getting her here, as she looks into his pale eyes, expectantly. Though of what, it's likely she doesn't know either. It's possible he was sleeping, here and there, but the jerk of her movement brings R'hin to full awareness, silent, presenting as little threat as possible until her eyes meet his and recognition sets in. He leans down to pick up the now-cold cup of water beside him, offering it to her. He watches her silently for a moment or two, though doesn't question her. He leans forward, eventually, to place the plush at her side, and lays a hand momentarily on her arm, by no coincidence given his talk earlier. "If you can't sleep, there's something under the pillow that might help," he murmurs, along with familiar curve of lips, "And if that doesn't work -- there's always my other presents," is added as he straightens and heads for the ledge. The nod he gives to Neianth is, as ever, respectful, folding arms while he waits -- not all that long -- for Leiventh's arrival, departing soon after. Keysi has trouble taking the cup at first, but once she does, and once his hand touches her arm, she seems to find some sort of grounding. "R'hin.." She finds words to speak, but of only his name- that which came right before she fell asleep, so comes when she wakes. It's not helpful, but maybe it's simply confirmation that he stayed. As he leaves she watches him vanish back out into the night. Her eyes become downturned, reflective. But even as Neianth's mind becomes heavier, more encompassing within her own to leave not a single thought untouched, alone, she turns to slide a hand under her pillow. As if she just needs that one extra thing. To touch the cool sheath of this particular dagger of significance she knows he couldn't have known and draw it out into the firelight, she simply.. smiles. Slight, still, but in the privacy of her weyr alone, she can do things like that. Somehow. Maybe that'll change. |
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