Logs:Sacrifice
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| RL Date: 7 December, 2008 |
| Who: Lujayn, X'lar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Malsaeth has a new story. Lu and Xie chat. |
| Where: Kitchens, High Reaches |
| When: Day 16, Month 5, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| To Rielsath, Malsaeth's thoughts arrive like a slow rain. « We are here. But mine is hungry. He would live in a kitchen if he could. » The last is said in amusement to the junior queen. Indeed, the bronzerider would live in a kitchen if he could. He's busy talking to a few of the kitchen workers quietly as he puts a couple plates together with cheese, cold cuts and bread on them. To Malsaeth, Rielsath sends an image the bronze may or may not remember: Lujayn's weyr. A little door in the wall, some ropes and pulleys inside. « We have a tunnel to the kitchens, but it's too small for me. » A searching beam of light, trying to fit down the food elevator. « She's down there now. In the kitchens, not the elevator. » To Rielsath, Malsaeth still seems amused, studying that door in the wall, letting the wind of his mindvoice howl briefly. « She has easy access to the kitchen. Yes, X'lar tells me he remembers. » Amusement in the form of thunder clapping. « He says that it's the best weyr ever. » Lujayn is checking on something in one of the ovens, working carefully to stay out of the way in the busy kitchen. Looking up and brushing hair from her flushed face, Lu spots the familiar bronzerider and smirks. "Did you finish everything at Ista?" She teases as she heads over. "Or are we just easier for free snacks?" The light of Rielsath's voice shimmers proudly, sunlight glinting on frozen mountaintops. « Yes it is. » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) X'lar laughs aloud as he hears Lu's teasing remarks to him, turning about to face her. "Hey, I can't help it that I've got such a big appetite," the Istan rider tells her with a brief grin. He hands her one of the plates he'd been putting food on, asking her: "Have you had lunch yet?" He moves out of the way of one of the kitchen workers before finding counterspace to jump up and sit on, keeping one of those plates he'd placed food on with him, in his hands. Lujayn shakes her head, taking the plate with a smile. "I was going to work on that after I checked on the pie," A tilt of her head back towards the oven, "I've gotten a lot better at baking. If you don't stuff yourself too much, you can have a big piece." She doesn't hesitate to hop up next to Xie on the counter after a wink, the familiar spot for watching the kitchen go by. "It's always fun to make your own rather than to have someone else do it, I think. So whenever I have time, I come down here." "/Pie/," X'lar repeats with a wider grin. "You've been /baking/?" The bronzerider couldn't really have any wider grin now. The Istan teen snags a slice of cheese and begins layering it on top of one of the slices of bread with some of the cold cuts. "That's so... great," Xie tells her with another grin. "I mean, I don't think I was ever meant to cook anything, but eating? Now, see, that's something I can do with gusto." He nods once before clarifying, "Yes, I'll definitely make room." He nudges his shoulder against hers, asking her, "So what kind of pie is it?" To Rielsath, Malsaeth considers his lifemate's thoughts before relaying them on toward the queen. « He is very happy here. He could be anywhere right now, with a rest day today, but he came to see yours. » Lightning flickers in the backdrop, and then soon that bass growl of his becomes a hoarse whisper. « Would you like to hear a story today, Rielsath? » Lujayn grins. "I thought you'd say something like that." She's eating her plate piecemeal, a little cheese here and bread there. "Fruit. Apples, mostly, but I found some dried berries and put those in. Not too sweet," She glances towards the oven, as if she could monitor the pie from afar. "Shouldn't be too much longer. Crust was still sticky last time I checked." Elbowing the Istan back with a laugh. "We'll have to teach you sometime. Dough dots, maybe. Or meatrolls." She teases, "Just think of the independence you'd have then." To Malsaeth, Rielsath catches the flashes of lightning and reflects the electrifying light, minus Malsaeth's own rumbles of thunder, with a pleasant acceptance: « It's been a long time since you told me a story. » "P'draig told me he thought of a special meatroll for me a while back," X'lar offers. "I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds pretty good considering his baking background and stuff." He takes a moment to enjoy his cheese before looking sidelong to Lu, grinning at her elbowing. "Apple pie with dried berries?" he asks, rhetorical. "Faranth! That sounds /fantastic/." He grins once more back at her before chuckling softly. "I'd probably make a lot of people unhappy if I started making my own meatrolls. Just think of the Bakers and kitchen staff that would have no more meatrolls to make for me!" He laughs once before saying, "When I was younger I think I made biscuits once. Those were actually pretty good. If I start on anything, it might be them." To Rielsath, Malsaeth needs no more prompting. Her electrifying acceptance is all he needs. « There once was a Baker named Thom. » he begins. « He was known by many as the best pie-maker in Pern. He just had a habit of making the best pies. » His lightning illuminates an image of a grandfatherly gentleman with rosy cheeks flush from baking. « People would ask him: Thom, however you do make such amazing pies? » "It's probably one huge meatroll," Lujayn guesses, "Or an extra-spicy one. I hope it'll taste good," She thinks of the pie, legs swinging absently. "If you like meatrolls so much, you'd probably make them better than people who make them because it's their job. Then you'd have to make them for everyone else, and that would be so much work. You're right - better not learn." Grin. To Malsaeth, Rielsath quiets herself as the tale begins, though from time to time a mirror-bright flash sparks out to bounce back the lightning. « How? » She wonders vaguely, studying the image of Thom. X'lar grins wide at Lujayn's guess, asking her: "Can you imagine? Maybe it's a meatroll /made out of meatrolls/!?" This seems to hit his funny bone, making him laugh so much that the rider doubles over in laughter. Slowly sobering, however, he returns his attention to the goldrider, grinning at her. "Yeah," he replies. "Better not learn and just mooch off everyone else." He chuckles once more before going on to say, "There were these awesome meatrolls down in High Reaches Hold that a friend of Milani's makes that are super-spicy. /Really/ good." He grins briefly before nudging her again, remarking: "So meatrolls and baking aside, I'm happy to see you, Lu." To Rielsath, Malsaeth sends a subtle hint of wind foreboding rain toward Rielsath. At her prompting, he answers with: « And Thom would always say: With Love. Always with love. » He projects another image of Thom with two young grandchildren. A Hold filled with people who loved him, not just for his pies, but for his jovial personality. « But turns later, something happened in the Hold where he lived. A sickness ravaged it, making people more and more sick until they began to die. » His whisper grows hoarser with emotion, the scene darkening further. « Soon, even the children of Thom's children began getting very ill. » "That's too many meatrolls," Lujayn wrinkles her nose with this declaration. "Just think, one bad one could ruin the entire thing." She laughs, watching X'lar's laughter happily. "Don't think I've ever had those, that I know of." Nudge nudge. "It's always great to see you. Were you stopping by for anything in particular, or just some food?" To Malsaeth, Rielsath ponders this. Love. « Pies are filled with fruit. Or meat. » Trying to imagine a physical form of love to stuff into a crust, little golden sunspots whirl dizzyingly, even through the haze of rain. « What did he do? » "You," X'lar tells her, grinning. "Stopping by to see you. Does that sound so far-fetched?" He pauses at her earlier remark, saying, "Yeah, that's true. I mean, I love meatrolls, but really, there's more to eat in a kitchen than meatrolls. I know. Scandalous. But it's true. I had these short ribs the other night, they were glazed in this brown butter sauce that was just... Oh man. /Fantastic/." He grins once before going on to say, "But I'm not all about food, I have other interests too, of course." Not that he needs to explain himself to anyone, especially to the woman sitting next to him. "Sometimes I feel like that's all people see when they see me though," Xie comments. "I'm 'the guy that eats meatrolls'." To Rielsath, Malsaeth considers Rielsath's pondering. « It was not some kind of manifestation of love, but his love for the Hold and his children and his children's children that made him bake those pies. » the ruddy hued bronze explains to the wintry gold. « It was his community. » He darkens the scene further, rain falling down in a veritable deluge over the small Hold surrounded by meadowlands. « When his children's children began getting sick, however, he could not do anything. He was almost paralyzed by the fear of the potential for loss. Not just of his children's children, but of his whole entire Hold. » His voice, growing hoarser as he goes along telling the story, hints at something. A climax just around the corner. Lujayn smiles. "That's what I was hoping. But you make it pretty easy for people to think of you as 'that guy,'" The goldrider sympathizes, setting her plate aside. "But there are the people that know you because you fish, or because you're a dragonrider, and they think of you in those ways." She hops down from the counter as she speaks, wandering the short distance to the oven and looking inside again. Her eyes go wide and she's scrambling for mitts, trying to rescue the pie as quickly as possible without scorching herself in the process. The crust is dark but not burned, steaming faintly as she sets it aside to cool. "And to me," She gestures at Xie with one mitted hand. "You are all those things." To Malsaeth, Rielsath projects, « Yes, but it might have been a new spice from the islands, » Rielsath argues briefly, but lets Malsaeth continue his story. Lightning sizzles at the deaths, fear for Thom, confusion over his sudden weakness in fear. « But he wasn't sick? » "Mitts are /so/ sexy," X'lar tells her, deadpan. But then he breaks it by grinning. Still, he seems serious enough, gesturing toward her mitted hands. "Ooh, crispy," the rider replies. "I like the crust like that." He gestures now toward the pie then gets off the counter too, walking toward the goldrider and the pie. "I suppose I do make it easy for people to think that about me," X'lar offers. "Not that I mind muchly. I mean, I do eat a lot of them. And I do talk about food a lot. But there is more to me than just food." He grins before adding, "But I really do like food." He looks around the kitchen before procuring a cooling rack, setting it nearby for Lu to put the pie on. "And you, with your oven mits on, are pretty amazing, Lu." To Rielsath, Malsaeth seems to think Rielsath's former remark is funny, but it doesn't seem to break the darkly twisted scene. But soon, sunlight seems to peek from the clouds as he hits the climax of the story: « And soon, Thom had had enough of the sickness. He was not going to let anyone or anything take his children's children away. So he began baking a pie unlike any other pie. He spiced it right. Made the crust himself. Picked the berries himself. Everything that he did, he did for his grandchildren. And so making his one pie was no exception. In fact, it became his life. He perfected the recipe. » Mal projects an image of the pie, looking, for lack of words, perfect. « And so he finished making this pie and he had his children's children eat one slice at a time until they had finished the entire pie. » "You should see me with an apron," Lujayn replies dryly, but her smile reveals that she doesn't mind the comment too much. A nod of gratitude for the cooling rack; it wouldn't do to leave burn marks on the counters. "I wouldn't worry so much about it. If people think of you as a piggy eater or a fearless dragonrider, does it matter?" She retrieves a knife from a nearby cutting block after ridding her hands of the mitts, testing the crust. "Not much longer." Is her verdict. To Malsaeth, Rielsath takes the image quite seriously, perhaps trying to memorize it for future use. Following the beams of sunlight upwards, trying to find a gap in the clouds to reach open sky, « What happened? » "An /apron/," X'lar repeats, grinning back at her. He pauses at her next comment before blinking in surprise at her, saying, "I don't think /anyone/ would think of me as fearless. I'm scared of tons of things. Like talking fishheads. Or people eating sand. Or, worse, burgers with /legs/." He grimaces at the last one, shuddering. "I don't really care what people think of me, really," the Istan teen remarks. "I don't tend to get close to very many people anyways." He pauses, growing thoughtful as he adds: "Besides, with the thick skin I got while I was here when Mal was clutch sire, I can't imagine anyone but maybe N'thei tearing me down any more." He shakes his head again and answers: "No, it doesn't matter. The fact that you like me the way I am is pretty much as good as it gets." He looks from pie to pie-maker and grins once at her, saying, "Be thankful I'm not /so/ bad that I'm dipping my finger in it or something to test it myself." To Rielsath, Malsaeth seems to have lightened the scene a lot by now. With every slice of pie eaten by Thom's grandchildren, the meadow surrounding the Hold seems to grow more lushly. With every bite of the pie, more clouds are removed from the setting. Until finally: « Thom's grandchildren got better. In fact, they got so much better that by the next day they were back to being precocious and rambunctious. It wasn't until a day after that, that the children discovered the unfortunate passing of Thom. » The clouds return, lit by the sun above them. « See, he put his entire livelihood in that one last pie. He put his entire self in that pie so his children's children would live. So much so that Thom died a happy man when he had learned his grandchildren had survived the sickness that had ravaged his Hold. » "You'd get burned if you did that," Lujayn reasons. "And you're not stupid. But, burgers with legs," She can't help but repeat, baffled. "That would be strange." She sobers a little at the memory of Xie's stay as clutch sire and busies herself with carefully cutting the pie into generous slices. "You know, I was always a little sorry that you didn't have the best time here. Or more than a little sorry. I thought it would be fun to have you around all the time, but there was all that other stuff that made it hard for both of us." She shrugs to herself, turning around with the first piece balanced so carefully on the knife, her free hand holding it steady. "Got a plate?" A mix of gratitude and sadness, a legacy. Rielsath looks down on the Hold and its tragedy, then to the grandchildren, and thinks of Thom himself. So deep are her thoughts that there are no lights to be found there. « Could I do that? » Her focus is not the literal this time, but the very idea imparted by Malsaeth's tale. Sacrificing one's own life for others. « Could you? » (Rielsath to Malsaeth) "I can't help it," X'lar tells her, chuckling softly. "When I get stressed I usually have nightmares." He smiles briefly at Lu, shaking his head, saying, "Don't be sorry. I still got to see you. And I still managed to have a little fun. I talked to P'draig once, about the time Jekzith was a clutch sire at Ista, and apparently he didn't have the greatest time either." He grunts once and shakes his head, saying, "I don't honestly understand N'thei's deal with me, but it doesn't bother me as much as it used to. The fact I don't ever see him helps." The last statement is said with a brief smirk. "What matters though, Lu," X'lar tells her, more emphatic. "Is the fact that we managed to get through it. And my indiscretion. And our distance. It's kind of amazing to me, that we've managed despite the odds." He then asks: "You know?" His hands are already snaking around behind him to snag a plate, lifting it up for her. "Yep," he offers. "Here." To Rielsath, Malsaeth considers these questions seriously, studying them. With the story gone, only a glimmering of the Hold exists in the background. « I would do anything for mine. » he answers slowly, darkness growing in the space of a few syllables. « Anything for you and yours. » "Who knows," Lujayn's duller mood seems to be a passing thing, already smiling again as she passes the slice off to X'lar. "Tell me how it is," Her face goes blank for a moment, then a bubbling laughter at some thought. "Rielsath says it's love. What kinds of things is Malsaeth telling her?" Because the only reason Rielsath has deep thoughts is that crimson bronze? "But really. If relationships were easy, they wouldn't be half as nice." To Malsaeth, Rielsath doesn't mind the darkness, so long as it's warm and comfortable. And she makes it so. « I think I could. » Vaguely troubled, though she can't puzzle out why. « But I don't have to right now, so that's okay. » "I think you're right," X'lar tells her. "I mean, about relationships. The rewards of having someone so close to you are pretty damned significant when it comes down to it. I mean, you mean more to me than anyone else. And I think because we've had our ups and downs, it means that our relationship is /that/ much more important to me." He wrinkles his nose and adds, "Does that make any sense?" He shrugs once before taking a bite of the pie. Then closes his eyes and makes a noise that makes it sound like yes he does like it. "Ooooh. /So/ good. Have a slice too, Lu," he offers, gesturing to the pie. At her questions regarding Malsaeth, X'lar laughs, saying, "He was telling her a story about sacrifice. In fact..." he trails off and grows somewhat thoughtful. "I have to say it's probably my favourite story of his now. Very sad, but still... It's not like his message of pouring love and one's self into something to save someone else was really... crammed down my throat either." He chuckles softly at the last, saying, "No pun intended." To Rielsath, Malsaeth seems to agree. « Neither of us have to right now. So that's okay. » The story seems to have even the storyteller reeling. "I get what you're saying," Lu had already been reaching for her plate, waiting for the verdict before chancing it herself. "Didn't want it to be too sweet; I like tart flavors," She cuts up another piece for herself. "I love at turn's end when the kitchen workers mix up ice cream. That's the best over fresh pie. But I'm not that talented," She laments with a self-mocking sigh. "Whatever am I to do?" Eat pie, apparently. "How does it go?" It might be the first time she's asked X'lar specifically about Malsaeth's stories instead of waiting to hear what Rielsath remembers, or to read about them in a book. Leaning against the counter, she waits, flashes of her dragon's curiosity and innocence reflected there. "I like tart flavours too," X'lar admits to the goldrider, smiling back at her. "I..." He trails off before shaking his head. "You always manage to surprise me, Lu." He takes another bite of his pie, grinning at her. "The pie's fantastic. And I totally agree with you about ice cream. It's way better than having cream on it." And to her last question, he smiles happily at her and begins. "Well, it begins with a man named Thom... He was the best pie-maker in the Hold. Perhaps even in Pern..." And he continues on with the story in between bites of pie... |
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