Logs:You Say It
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| RL Date: 15 November, 2008 |
| Who: Eila, K'del, Rascela |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlings congregate outside the Snowasis for lunch, with discussion ranging from sex to sisters. The two aren't related. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 13, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Nakasha/Mentions, X'lar/Mentions |
| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. It's time for midday meals -- or roundabout that time, at least -- and Rascela's taken her food well away from the bustle of the living cavern. Why she's chosen this place when she's got so many others to hide away in is anyone's guess, but it's relatively quiet and she is, for now, undisturbed while she plows through her food. Two large sandwiches, it looks like; some sort of potato salad, some green salad, and other odds and ends with a glass of water. Nothing sweet, naturally. In her lap is a leatherbound book, one rough hand resting possessively over it. Of Uanth, there is no immediate sign, but the brown is probably lounging around somewhere, just out of sight. But not for long. Rascela is not the only one with the idea of taking food outdoors - K'del has come later to the meal, but now, with an overstuffed sandwhich in each hand, he ambles his way up the stairs and onto the ledge. His mouth is full, when he spies Rascela, changing path immediately with the obvious intention of joining her, so he doesn't actually manage to greet her, but he does smile (mouth closed, still, thankfully), swinging into a nearby chair. It's the sound of approaching footsteps that prompts Rascela to lift her head and grunt something that might be a greeting -- at least, it doesn't have a distinct 'go away' tone to it -- to K'del. She finishes chewing and swallows, taking her time to do both, then grates out a "Hey," in case her previous welcome was missed. Then, silence, as the other half of her sandwich is demanding to be consumed in as few bites as possible. The book, interestingly, is somehow pulled in closer. Hers; don't look. K'del swallows his, too, lifting the sandwich that's already had a few bites taken out of it as if he intends to take another one immediately, but hesitates, dropping it back so that he can actually talk to his newly-found lunch companion. "Hey, Rascela," he says, dipping his head in her direction as she does so. "What's in the book?" Again, his head dips, this time to indicate the book that has completely failed to be missed by his notice, her intent on pulling it closer notwithstanding. He swings one leg over the arm of his chair, looking - well, quite relaxed. /Now/ he takes another bite. "Nothin'," she replies oh-so-helpfully, flicking her gray gaze up to study him. There's a slow blink, an equally slow roll of her shoulders, and then she straightens a bit. She might be content with that, but Raz' gaze goes briefly distant and she adds rather grudgingly. "Ain't nothin' yet, anyway. M'name and Uanth's; 'bout it." And lest she be compelled to say further by the brown-that-shall-not-be-named, she takes a large bite of sandwich, which she intends to take some time working through. K'del takes his time, chews, swallows. "An empty book, then. You're going to write in it?" The whole two-sandwich thing, while a good idea in theory, appears to be causing him some problems: he has no hands left, and, from the way he tries to use the back of his hand, an itch on his forehead. He gives up, after a moment, dropping both hands to not far above his lap, a more convenient position. "Prob'ly." That's uttered between the last bite and the next, barely articulated. Not that it's going to work in her favour if she eats as quickly as she has been; she'll soon have no excuse to be so terse about things. How bothersome. Rascela quirks a brow subtly at K'del's perceived fidgeting, but she doesn't comment. Of the book, "Gift from X'lar. Figured we could use it," Uanth being naturally included. There's another pause and likely more goading that prompts, "Might draw. Dunno." K'del accepts this explanation, one word though it might be, without pushing for more immediately, his head nodding as he chews through his latest bite. "He's been up to visit since the hatching, then? Haven't seen him around. Good for him, though, to pay attention. From what Cadejoth tells me, Uanth'd like that." He finally sets down one of his sandwiches onto the leg his trousers, which aren't the cleanest pair ever seen, but they'll do (apparently). /Now/ he manages to get that scratch it, pushing his hair out of the way to do so. "You draw?" "Just th' once," she figures. She doesn't know. Rascela snorts, softly, "Reckon they'd be thick-as-thieves, Malsaeth an' mine. They talk sometimes. Says Malsaeth's 'blustery'." A grunt, a shake of her head, and then she looks to K'del. "Mine likes yours; likes pullin' his chain, whatever that means." A shrug comes before she answers the last, "Yeah. Sometimes. Better at drawin' than writin'. Ain't nothin' great." Her chin lifts in his direction, quizzically. "You?" Draw? Write? Have hobbies? All of that seems somehow implied in the small gesture. "Blustery?" Kas queries this with his head tilted to one side, and a torn off piece of sandwhich already on its way to his mouth. Between chews, he adds, "Don't know that Malsaeth and Cadejoth have talked at all, but maybe he just never told me about it. Oh," he adds, head bobbing, "Cadejoth - it's like there are chains in his head. Going everywhere. He keeps pulling on me, when he wants me. Less now, though. Likes Uanth, too, anyway. Says he's fun." He nods through her talk of drawing, shrugging his shoulders when it comes time for him to respond. "Like to read. Drink. Flirt." "Shardin' storm," is her clarification of 'blustery'. It just makes her nose wrinkle, though. Raz nods to the rest, content to settle into her food in silence on her part. He can talk; she'll eat. Works fine for her. She's listening, though, if the periodic looks and nods sent his way are any indication; listening or faking it, it's hard to say. To his 'hobbies', though, there's a curious uptick of a brow. "Whaddaya read? Gotta read a fair bit, since y'can't do th' others." Not without raising eyebrows, anyway, but that need not be spoken. K'del doesn't seem too much more enlightened by Rascela's clarification, by his expression, but he nods anyway. When he concludes speaking, he takes another bite of his food, eating this while Rascela asks her question, and then some, resulting in a pause between bits of conversation while he swallows. "Bit of everything," he shrugs. "Stories, sometimes, but other things, too. Wingleader reports and notes, lately, mostly. Though," he adds, grinning, and /winking/, "I can, too, flirt. Flirting's harmless." "Hnh," is for his reading material. Thoughtful, that. The plate is shifted around, the better to prod at the rest of the stuff on it with a spoon. Shoveling commences, at least for three bites-worth before Rascela deigns to look at him -- which happens to coincide with the winking. That gets him a blank look, her mouth slowly pulling to a side. "Harmless," is repeated flatly. "Depends on who with, I'd figure. Ain't always folks keen on it." Deadpan; observational. "I'm getting myself in the habit early. Before the leadership program. Give myself a head start, you know?" Kas explains, leaning back in his chair and kicking his foot lightly. He looks honestly amused for her response to his wink, laughing merrily. "Are you saying you're not keen on it yourself, Rascela? That'd be a shame. Doesn't have to mean anything, you know. Just a bit of fun." "Yeah." That's all for his explanation, roughly articulated around a mouthful of something or another. She swallows, then lifts her head again, her plate being nudged away with the back of a hand. He leans back and so does Rascela, her impassive mien holding fast through his laughter. And it might even look as if she's giving serious consideration to leaving then and there, but for an odd glint in her eye and a sudden, if somehow savagely amused, pull of her mouth. Smiling, or as close to it as she gets. "Didn't say that," she answers. "But ain't somethin' I do." K'del flashes Rascela a smile for her 'yeah', as if he's taken the comment as a confirmation that she, too, has just assumed on his inclusion in the program, or something similar. He shifts, just slightly, as it looks like she might leave, settling back when the moment passes. "Why not?" he prompts, curious, leaning forward again. He's got a sandwich in his hand again, about to lift it to his mouth for another bite. Fingertips drum an idle beat on the book, an unconscious imitation of the way Uanth's claws tend to rattle on the edge of his couch; Rascela's head tips to a side, indifference settling in after that brief -- and perhaps somewhat unpleasant -- smile. "Waste of time. Figure it's easier t'just go for whatever." Elaboration comes a beat later, "Y'like someone, y'say it. Y'don't, y'don't. Easier'n pussy-footin' 'round the whole shardin' thing. Get busy doin', rather'n get busy talkin' 'bout doin'." "Ah, so it's all about the sex for you, is it?" Kas wants to know, interested by this, wiping the crumbs from his first sandwich off of his palms and onto the ground. "No romance, just get down to it. Well, I can respect that," he tells her, grinning. "But the flirting /is/ fun, too. And I flirt with people even when we both know we're not going to actually do anything with it. Some girls need the flirting, to-- loosen them up. Do you just walk up to people and tell them that you want to sleep with them?" No blushing from her, just a rise-fall of shoulders. "Works well enough for me. If it ain't broke-" why fix it? Rascela leans back a little in her chair, both hands on the book and shoulders rolled back a little as she looks at him. "Enh. Depends on th' girl," is mentioned in passing, though she concedes, "guys're sharding easier." But his wondering of her methods garners only a shake of her head, a straightforward 'left-right-center' and a vague, "Depends." "Fair enough. If it's working for you - well, I won't argue." Kas breaks off a piece of his second sandwich, pushing it in the direction of his mouth, though it doesn't quite make it there. "Not all girls, true. Like you. Guys," he breaks off, grins. "We tend to have one thing on our brains, I'm afraid. But: depends, how? Why?" Now, finally, he puts that piece of bread and filling into his mouth. The book in her lap is given another drum of fingers, then she forces them to be still. As everything he's said thus far is pretty much the same as she's thinking, there's just a slight grunt of assent and a tilting of her head back. Rascela remarks, "Depends on th' who. Other stuff. Can't explain." But, she does have one bit of useful information, though it's obvious to any who's lived in a Weyr more than a sevenday, "An' if yer in a pinch, riders fresh off a failed flight ain't bad." "I did note that much," admits K'del, showing his teeth as he smiles. "Not that I'm usually quite that desperate. Plenty of girls - well, until I was Searched, and since. But once we're allowed..." His head inclines slightly, that smile turning - salacious, even. "It'll be nice to have a place of my own, to take them." Backtracking, as he breaks another piece off of his lunch, he adds, "Okay, so it's different with different people. What about... Okay, for demonstration's sake. Just hypothetical. If you were going to ask me, how would you do it?" "Ask what?" Eila's a heartbeat on the heels of K'del's words as she pokes her head around the cobblestone corner from the Snowasis, a cup of something warm and still steamed in her mittened hands. She slips into a chair nearby, cuddling deeper into her fur-lined jacket as she aims herself for the most part towards her clutchmates; her gaze distant is focused, however, on the cornflower blue dragonet scampering some 'lengths further distant. "Enh. I'll be glad for th' quiet." That being her primary thought when it comes to getting a weyr of her own. Raz tips her head forward again, to look at him, silent for the most part until he gets to his 'hypothetical'. "Knowin' you," she begins, eyes slanting askance to Eila and with a slight lifting of her chin toward the bluerider to suffice as greeting without interrupting her thought, "I'd just ask. Might sweeten th' deal with booze." And, yes, that /would/ be a twisted sort of half-smile, not quite lascivious but disturbingly close -- at least, for someone who so rarely shows anything beyond ambivalence. "But, yer young." K'del's hand lifts in a wave towards Eila, though he doesn't respond verbally until Rascela has finished speaking entirely. "And what does being young have to do with anything?" he wants to know, not sounding hurt, just, perhaps, a little suspicious. "Anyway, you think I wouldn't do it, without alcohol?" He sounds more amused with that, admittedly. To Eila, he explains, "Ask to sleep with me. Apparently I'd need bribing. That's kind of sad, isn't it?" "Oh. Oh? Oh." So eloquent, Eila coils her hands tighter around her mug at K'del's explanation, drawing both it and her knees up to her chin. "It's got lots to do with it," she offers with the hesitance of one perhaps not quite sure of themselves. "To some people, at least." Her shoulders move in what might be an attempt at a shrug; falling quiet, she moves her mug to her lips and draws at the warm liquid. "Didn't mean nothin' by it," Rascela snorts, "just statin' facts." Back to looking all dour and indifferent, then, though she does reiterate, "I said 'might'. Ain't sure I'd wanna spend the marks if I didn't haveta." Teasing? Couldn't possibly be. Gray eyes soon fix on Eila, appraising for a second or two before flicking a look back to K'del. "She'd need bribin'," as if the poor blueriding weyrling weren't sitting right /there/. "Phhbt," says K'del, waving his hand as if to wave away this idea of age. "I've slept with plenty of women older than me, and none of them have complained." He returns his gaze to Rascela, eyeing her as if determining whether he should really be offended or not; apparently, he decides on not. "Right now? You definitely wouldn't. But. It's been a while." He winks at her, laughing outright as his attention turns back to Eila. "Mmm, probably. What /would/ work as a bribe, Eila?" Eila buries her nose in her coat, though overtop the furred lining her eyes narrow slightly towards Rascela. Her words are muffled beneath the layers, but her tone is distinct enough as she mutters, "Might not be such a bad thing." K'del's words - boast? - earn nothing more but a crinkling of her eyes, an indulgent hidden smile and she shrugs lightly again. "We'd have to see, K'del." "Says you," seems to be worth pointing out, though Rascela scarcely seems to smile. It's there, somewhere, in her voice; just not in her face. "Figure we'll haveta find out." Later, obviously, though this -- with everything -- is intoned without any concept of shame or ambivalence. The brownrider shifts her attention to Eila, then, considering. "Ain't my type," she ultimately decides, so she has no suggestions of her own with regards to useful bribes. K'del sets his over-long eyelashes fluttering as, laughing, he tells both girls: "Oh, you will. No doubt about that." His sandwich finished, he brushes down his breeches, and then his hands, adding, "It's not really fair, you know. Being stuck in the barracks with all these girls who're older than me. Not," he adds, quickly, "that age /does/ matter. Everyone just keeps bringing it up." After another moment, he adds, "Anyway. Can't wait until all those restrictions are lifted." "/You/ brought it up," Eila comments with a little wiggle of a gloved finger, noncommittally, towards who could either be K'del or Rascela, like she's actually not quite sure where it came from in the first place. "Not so long, now," she adds in regards to all those restrictions. "Not mine, either," is tossed back Rascela's way - just in case it was a matter of contention, you know. "Ain't really fair," Rascela counters to K'del, "that I gotta be stuck with a lotta folks younger'n me, either. It's interestin'." But that's as far as she feels inclined to take things. There's a tip of her head to Eila, granting her that -- good? good. -- and then silence, mostly owing to the fact that she's still got a half glass of water that needs to be drunk. It's just coincidental that she has nothing to say afterwards. K'del's thumb points towards Rascela: /she/ brought it up. /He/ was just flirting. Sort of. "No, not so long. That'll be good. Real privacy. Never had my own room before. Spent most of my time sneaking out, or sleeping with people in funny places." Pause. "Well. Not sleeping, rather. You know what i mean." His eyebrows raise for Rascela's 'interesting' comment, but he doesn't push that, instead concluding: "Anyway. You're all my type. Or maybe, like I said, it's been too long." Eila, almost perfectly in the middle of that age range, has nothing much to say on it, instead shrugging her coat higher around her ears against the faint chill. The blueriding weyrling does say, "Real privacy. Our own weyrs, you mean? But it'll be - so quiet. I think it'll be weird." Rascela gets an incline of the girl's head; good. Agreed. There's just a quirk of a brow at K'del's thumb pointing. She's innocent; swear. But, again, not much else to say, other than a blunt, "Y'ain't got much in th' way of taste, neither," being tossed K'del's way. Rascela stacks her dishes, her book being shifted to rest under her arm. Somewhere, just out of sight but close enough to be heard, a certain brown lifts his voice in an odd, flute-like trill. Well, as flute-like as a brown can be, at any rate. The weyrling just snorts. "Nothing is ever all that quiet with Cadejoth around," grins K'del. "Anyway, I intend to have very few nights alone." His boasting - it surely must be, even if he is fifteen, and tall, and not entirely unattractive especially now that his face is beginning to clear a little - is self-satisfied, but not completely arrogant. "I have plenty of taste," he continues, this time eyeing Rascela. "I don't go after /every/ woman. And anyway, who said I'm really going after you two?" But then again, maybe he is. "Nor Kelerith, but they're -" just dragons, Eila doesn't say, instead leaning forward to gently put her mug down on the patio deck and wrap her arms around her legs. K'del's straight-up bravado? Her snort is clear even tucked under her coat, the puff of steam rising past her and tracked by slate-blue eyes. "There's not even that many girls in the Weyr. Not if you're planning on year-'round bed warmers." Eila's snort is mirrored with one of Rascela's own, even as she rises with an audible protest by some of her joints. "Reckon it'll work itself out," she decides, nebulously, then twists her head around to the source of the trilling. "Comin' a'ready, jays." There's not much of a 'bye' offered for the other two, just a tip of the head and some vague sound ... and then the young woman's headed away, dishes in one hand, book under her arm, and a brown seeming to all but manifest some distance further away to trot in his odd, stiff-legged way after her. "They're plenty," disagrees K'del, of Eila's suggestion. "Actually, what I really can't wait is for Cadejoth to be able to fly properly, and do whatever he likes, so that I can have some time to myself, sometimes. But the bedmates part wouldn't hurt. Some," he adds, "of the girls? Might stay a couple of nights. Or, like a rotation?" He watches after Rascela, rather than doing anything else, lips twitching in poorly concealed amusement. "Strange girl." "You'd be bound to run out of them eventually," Eila chuckles softly, resting her chin neatly on her drawn-up knees and angling her head lightly towards the bronzeriding weyrling. "I'm looking forward to it, myself," flying, that is, "though maybe not for the same reasons. I can track down my caravan properly, with Kelerith." Rascela's departure is acknowledged with a faint, "'Bye," after the girl, though Eila nods her agreement to K'del's assessment. K'del leans back in his chair lazily, swinging the leg he has draped over the arm. "Probably," he allows. "Maybe I'd have to get someone to move in, eventually. Or-- I don't know. Long way off, I suppose." His nod, to the rest of her words, is quiet, accompanied by a warm smile. "I'll bet. Be good to see them all again, I'm sure. My parents are supposed to be coming to visit me in the Spring, but it depends. I'd like to see them. And my sister. Tillek's not /that/ far away, but far enough." Too far, right now. There's another soft laugh from the girl. "A live-in bed warmer. Now /that's/ thinking ahead. But -" she waves, vaguely, "That's a far way away. We have too many oilings and feedings and things in between now and then to worry about that." At the mention of Tillek, Eila tips her head thoughtfully; says, "It's not, really." That far away, presumably. "Can make it in good time in the summer, but the snow almost doubles it. It's probably safer for them to wait to come visit, either way," she finally pronounces. "If they'd be coming by runner or caravan, that is." K'del exhales lengthily, nodding in response to Eila's remark. "Lots still to learn," he agrees. "Before we can get too distracted by stuff." He shifts uncomfortably, though, at this, turning his gaze away for a few moments before he responds. "Mm, not sure how they'll be coming. Aside from, not by dragon, I guess. Not this time. Has to wait until the snows clear, though, yeah. A few months yet." "Like flying," Eila says, firmly, as though that were the only thing that might even be distacting them, never mind that troublesome matter of boys and girls and living all together in the barracks and such. "I'll be pretty happy to see the snow go, at least. Spring always makes everything better. Happier, you know? -- if you're really eager to see them, couldn't you just have your sister come up for a day or two? I bet one of the older riders would play shuttle for an hour or two, if you asked really nicely." Awkward. K'del doesn't usually look awkward, aside from with his height, but for a moment - very awkward. "Right," he agrees, hurriedly. "Like flying." His gaze shifts again, to stare out over the snow-covered bowl, and he nods, emphatic. "I agree. There're fun parts about spring, but right now, it just feels like it's been-- like winter's been here forever." He pauses, glancing back in surprised. "I hadn't thought to do that. Depends on if they'd approve, I suppose. She's young, and I wouldn't be able to watch her all the time." For his visible discomfort, Eila's got another grin still concealed under her coat's collar, seen only by that laughing smile to her eyes. "Right," she echoes him, on the matter of the everlasting winter; his suprised doubletake earns the girl's laughter. "Sure. Leova's flown me to go see my family a few times now. I don't think they mind doing it, not if it's for a good cause. And," here is a joke, perhaps, judging by her voice, "How much trouble could a young girl get into at a Weyr? Honestly." Which K'del misses, mostly, too distracted by other thoughts to really pay attention. "She was going to, when I was a candidate," he says, of Leova, "Only we got distracted and saw a bunch of Pern, instead. Which was awesome. But it's been ages since I saw my family." His lips twist into a rueful, then more laughing, smile. "Honestly, right? Parents are so over-protective. I'd never lead her astray. I think she'd lead herself there, though. Spitfire, she is." "Tell her," a finger idly taps at the arm of Eila's chair as she considers for a moment, "No, tell them -" K'del's family, "- that she'd be learning the discipline and drive required of an upstanding Reachian weyrling. That ought to work, right? And that she'd be under the best of care every waking moment. How could they say no?" Over-protective parents? Eila wouldn't know much about that. She nudges away her collar with her chin, exhaling a puff of condensation. "If she's as spunky as you say, she'd have no troubles here, anyway." K'del, amused, explains, "I think she'd want to stay, if she came. And they want her safely married and settled down with a family - not yet, but in a few turns. Their baby, you know? And a girl. I don't think she wants to get married at all, though she likes the boys as much as I like the girls." Pause. "Well, not quite as much. She's only thirteen-- no, fourteen, now. But still. I'll try, though. I'd love to show her around, and I think she resents being stuck at home. Most of us have moved on, now." She offers a smile across to him, cheerful enough for the redness in her cheeks and the way she's rubbing her gloves together. "I'd want to get away from that, too. All my parents wanted me to do was - sell thread." Her shoulders hunch into yet another shrug, and Eila wrinkles her nose. "I gave up travelling to be - stuck at home. But it turns out there's nothing so great about it, except the stability. And Kelerith, of course. See if you can't get her down," is eventually Eila's pronounced advice. "Took Kash a while to forgive me for leaving," admits K'del, running his fingers - ice blue with cold - through his hair as he talks. "You miss travelling, then?" he wants to know. "I only travelled as far as here, from Tillek, but I liked it. Still. Like having more people around, too." He nods, sharply: "I will. Thanks, Eila." "I like the," beat, and Eila's brow wrinkles as she searches for the right words, gloved fingers rubbing across her forehead, "-the seeing things. And different people. Once you've seen a place, you've seen it, but there's always different people to meet and deals to strike and things. Tillek's nice," she bobs her head curtly, "It was on our route, actually. I think they're wintering down in Boll right now, though. Usually do, at least. Welcome." K'del is still, and very silent as he listens, nodding his understanding intermittently between words. "I think I get that," he says. "I can't wait until Cadejoth and I can go visiting, anyway. Tillek's--" He breaks off. "We're, that is, my parents, are a bit of a distance from the main Hold, but close enough to visit. I liked it. Haven't been to Boll, though. The warm'd be nice, though." "Dry heat," is Eila's opinion on Boll, accompanied by an idle fanning of her hand. "Better than this, of course, but there's this perfect in-between during Fort's spring that's just marvellous, not too hot, not too cold - warm rain, all that. What do they do? Your parents. Did you do?" She's curious, rocking forward while drawing her knees tighter against her chest. "Sounds nice," says K'del, of Fort, finally pulling his jacket closer - there really is a chill in the air, still. "Grapes," he explains, then, his expression quietly rueful. "They have a few vines. Grapes go to Tillek, become Tillek Red. Can't stand wine, myself, but other people seem to think it's pretty good. My eldest brother'll inherit all of that." That little crinkle to Eila's nose is back, if only for an instant. "Never understood that, myself. What do you do? When you're not the oldest. Just keep... freeloading? Picking grapes? While your older brother or sister bosses you around?" She shakes her head; Holders. How strange. K'del wipes another crumb from his leg, one forgotten in the initial clean-up process. "Brother, usually. Least, even if my older sister had been the oldest, she wouldn't have inherited. My sister-in-law was kind of upset not to have a boy first, I think." Of the rest, he nods. "I could've stayed, kept helping out, but you can't do that indefinitely - you'd end up with a dozen families, and no room, and not enough to support them with. Most of my brothers went elsewhere - crafts, marriages, whatever. And I came here." "Huh." Eila presses her lips together for a moment, finally unbends herself and stretches her legs out in front of her chair, and then says, "That sounds - pretty boring, actually. No offense." To him or his family. "Did you have a craft or anything in mind, if this -" the Weyr, Cadejoth, "- didn't go through? Or would you've just stayed here? I think I would've stayed, but I was already all settled in and stuff." "There's a reason I left," points out K'del, taking no offense at this. His head shakes, his shoulders shrug. "Not really. Just came here with the intention of succeeding at something, and because none of my brothers had come to a weyr. Figured I could stand out more, if I did something different. It all just--" he extends a hand, indicating the weyr as a whole. "Worked out, I guess. Anvori mentioned maybe needing a hand - maybe I would've done that, I guess." "And you did," Eila points out on the matter of succeeding, standing out, pleased on her clutchmate's behalf. "With Cadejoth." She falls silent after this, quiet for some time as she drums her heels against the patio, before she mentions, "Might go into search and rescue, I think. After - flying, and straps, and a thousand more oilings, and things." K'del's nod is firm, and his grin brilliant: he sure did. "I hadn't thought that far," he admits, of future possibilities. "I'm going to lead something, someday, though. I think I'd be pretty good at that." He sighs, glancing out over the bowl, then rises to his feet. "Need to get back to Cadejoth. He wants to show me something, I think. See you later, Eila." She nods shortly, burying herself deeper into her coat as K'del stands, although not before Eila directs a smile upward. "Sure, I know how it is. See you around, K'del. Nice chatting with you." The bluerider herself makes no move to stand; the roly-poly blue rambling out in the snow beyond is once again the focus of her attention as the girl wraps her arms around her chest. |
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