Flying Fists of Fury!
Who: Hattie and W'ton with Elaruth and Dasarth
Where: W'ton's weyr
When: Almost lunchtime on day 10, month 3, turn 20
What: Hattie needs to vent. With her fists. Not on W'ton though. Him she just talks to.
While it's still cold outside there are all the signs of spring in the air. This morning, for example, there's the rain instead of snow. Not that it will qualify as morning before too much longer with noon and lunch just around the corner. The rain has driven W'ton and Dasarth inside for now. The bronze stares outside balefully like someone is working against him, but W'ton's just seated on the couch with a sewing basket and a few clothing items in need of mending. It's quite possible a certain goldrider might find something of hers in the pile because it's not unknown for the bronzerider to notice something in need of a fixed button or seam or what have you and just take it and return it later. Being a good guy and it having nothing at all to do with him refusing to be seen with someone who wears shabby, to him, clothes. Exposition aside, there he sits with a cup of juice and his sewing.
Being how she is, Elaruth has likely warned Dasarth of her intention to land with a scrabble of claws on his ledge - today it's not a request, more a flash of an apology should she be interrupting and a hint that she may be doing only as she's told. Once her rider has dismounted, the queen briefly experiments with wings and the holding of them at different angles to remain as dry as possible, then gives up and settles for watching the rain fall down into the Bowl. Hattie herself has enough restraint to linger in the doorway and shuck her jacket before the rain she's caught on the journey can be inadvertently transferred to anyone or anything, but not enough to hang it up or any such thing: she drops it right where it could be rained on some more and heads inside proper. Once inside, her gaze finds W'ton and she murmurs a greeting; ducks her head like she might be able to hide the fact that she looks, frankly, like death warmed up, and strides across the room to aim a high kick at the punching bag that's - surprisingly - not received any attention over the past few days.
Dasarth grumbles at Elaruth, but without any emotion behind it. He's just grumpy in the rain. Especially since once she's landed and her rider has gone inside the bronze gets up from his warm couch and heads out to sit in the rain as well. His wing goes up over her to provide what shield it might. A high and mighty pain in the rear he might be, but he's learned to be a gentleman as well. With the warning given by his dragon W'ton's setting his sewing aside and rising to his feet as she enters and then crosses the room. Rather than head for her first he goes on and retrieves her coat to hang it up on a hook on the wall far enough inside it won't get wetter. That done he stands for a moment and watches her. "Did you want to talk?" he asks from where he is at. "Or did you come to abuse the bag?" If his usual cheer is a little less cemented it's just because he's worried and that he doesn't bother to hide from his expression.
Elaruth frets for a little while, edgy and anxious until she settles close to Dasarth and under his wing, which still doesn't prevent her from insisting, << You do not have to sit out in the wet with me... >> gently and over-earnestly. << I am sorry for disturbing you. >> Inside, Hattie shakes her head, though that might not be her reply, without looking over her shoulder. "I had things to say," she mutters, fists striking the bag now that that kick has served well-enough as an initial assault. "I /had things to say/ and he went and /died/ on me!" she shouts. "What gave him the right to do that? Why did he have to go and do that?" the goldrider demands. "He couldn't even live to old age and get that right."
The grumbling stops as does movement and Dasarth lets Elaruth get settled. << I do not have to do anything. >> His reply is, given who says it, not much of a shock in context. << I wish to sit out here with you. If there were space for us both inside I would allow you inside. >> His tail twirls and rests on hers. << If you get too wet you may go inside. >> It's not a grudging sort of offer at all. After all she does outrank him so she should get to be dry. Not that either of them might want to be inside right now. W'ton crosses the room, snagging a chair from the table, and setting down near enough to talk without getting hit by fist, foot, or bag. "I'm sorry, Hattie," he tells her gently. And...that's it. Because with any luck those few words won't get her turning her anger onto him.
<< I will not go inside, >> Elaruth quietly tells Dasarth. << I would rather be out here with you. In the rain. >> And she loops her tail loosely alongside his to prove it. Whatever is going on in her head right now has her flinching before she resettles. << I feel I should apologize for her. I am sorry. >> With any luck, Hattie wouldn't take those words the wrong way, but how she does that and how she's already managed to bloody her knuckles with the force of her strikes might be something of a mystery and yet not at all surprising. "Don't feel sorry for me," she snaps. "I'm not going to break down and bawl." Which she hasn't. Yet. A full minute or so of silence follows, with only the sound of fists hitting bag with nothing held back scattered quick pace through it, until she slows and stops; runs a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry," she tells the wall, not the bronzerider. "I'll go."
<< Then I will not be jealous of him >> Dasarth answers in, gasp, a humorous tone. << I would gladly sit in the rain for you. And there is no need to apologize for her. W'ton told me her clutchfather died. It makes them sad. >> He would not be sad, but he has only vague ideas on most days about who his father is. W'ton at least does not snap something back or stand up or sulk or anything. The bronzerider sits in his seat and watches and listens without doing anything. At least he does until she mentions leaving and then he's on his feet to intercept her before she gets more than a step or two away from the bag. "You're not going anywhere," he tells her quietly in a firm tone. "And I never said I felt sorry for you. I said I was sorry. I am sorry he died and left you feeling this way. I'm sorry you haven't cried yet." Reaching for her arm if she lets him have it he'll lead her to the couch. "Mostly I'm sorry you think you should go. I'm not sorry I won't let you though. If I have to I'll strip you down to keep you here until you're feeling better."
Elaruth leans and touches her muzzle just underneath the bronze's jaw, reeds rustling faintly for his show of humour. << It makes them sad, >> she agrees. << Though she will not have that said of her. You are well, today? Have you been told who you will fly with? >> Hattie stares up at W'ton the moment his fingers touch her arm, a blank quality to her eyes and her jaw set. There might be the tiniest of tugs back, yet she follows in the end and sits and stares at her knees, past the mess she's made of her hands. "Why should I cry?" she questions. "I'm not going to do that and make out that I take everything I've ever said about him back. I don't. Man was an indecisive fool. And appointed a fool to take his place." Whilst she's on a roll, she must figure she might as well carry on. "It's like with her. You shouldn't have to have this," she gestures towards herself, "inflicted on you just because something went wrong in my life."
Dasarth watches the bowl down below taking his usual delight in seeing everyone beneath him. When a couple of kids begin a game of tag he nudges at Elaruth with his muzzle so she might notice them too. << We are well. We will fly with Zaiventh. And Gedroth and his will be with us. That is good because someday Gedroth will be my second. >> It's all planned out, you see? << You did not have to wait to know. >> There's maybe sympathy for that because there was no competition after all to beat out. Once she's seated W'ton sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulder. "Crying doesn't mean you don't still think him a fool," he points out gently. "It just means for all his faults he's your father and you'll miss him if only the tiniest bit. There's not a thing wrong with that just like there's nothing wrong with not crying if you truly don't want to. But if you do...well, don't think I'll think a thing of it. Although I may make you launder my shirt if you get it all soppy." His grin is in full force when he teases, but it vanishes quickly as he shakes his head. "Now listen to me, Hattie," he tells her in his firm, no jokes, better be listening voice, "If you ever didn't come to me because something went wrong I'd have to give you a piece of my mind. That's what I'm here for. That's what she's here for. You're not inflicting anything on us. We love you and we want to be here for you."
The pale gold queen swings her head minutely in the right direction to follow the children and their game, eyes whirling a little faster as she tracks them. << Gedroth is wise. He will make a good second, >> Elaruth remarks, thoughtfully. << I did not have to wait, but I enjoy Peirith's company. I will learn from her. I hope to. >> Hattie laughs - or tries to - as he grins, but the sound doesn't come out right and she covers her mouth with one hand to smother it. The goldrider leans and rests her head on his shoulder, tucking herself against him despite tension that keeps her movement awkward and her frame rather rigid. "I'm not going to be a hypocrite. I'm not going to break out the stories of him carrying me round on his shoulders when I was little. It's done," she murmurs in a low voice. "You still want to be here for me when I can't cry and I sound like a heartless bitch?" Protest she may, though she moves closer still as if she'd hide against him somehow.
<< That is what I thought. He listens to me. >> Dasarth may not mean that the way it sounds, but there you go. << Peirith has never spoken to me. >> There's something in his voice there that may possibly be akin to self-doubt. Like there must be something wrong with him to never have spoken to the elder queen of the Weyr. But whatever is in his voice he doesn't tense up or swish his tail or act agitated. W'ton makes himself available for tucking and keeps his arm around her with a light touch on her shoulder. "Doesn't matter how you sound," he tells her quietly as he bends his head to kiss her hair. "I know how you are. You're not heartless and you're not a bitch. And if you don't want to talk about him then that's your decision. And if you don't want to talk about him until two turns from now then that's fine. If you never want to talk about him that does not make you a bad person." His other arm comes up so his fingers can brush against her cheek as he asks in a whisper, "So long as you don't feel guilty."
<< Peirith is kind. We played when I was smaller, >> Elaruth replies, with the absent air of someone who thinks they have something right, but can't quite piece it all together. << Perhaps she has never found a need to speak with you. It is sometimes better to be silent than to speak, >> she tries to suggest. "I don't have anything good to say," Hattie says, as she takes a breath in that lends an edge to her words. "And I can't go on and on and speak ill of the dead. I'm /pissed/," she insists far too vehemently. "...None of it will bring him back. Or make it better. And if I feel guilty, then I'm stuck with it, because I'm not taking it all back or changing my mind just because he's gone." Whatever's going on in her head, enough real sense remains to remember to struggle to kick off her boots before curling up on the couch and falling silent.
Dasarth is silent as he mulls over the words said. << Perhaps. But I do not know why she would not wish to speak to me. >> Confounded dragon! How dare she not find him fascinating. << But it matters little. Perhaps she will speak to me when she flies. >> But it's a nebulous thought all camp smoke and wind. He's still not chased anyone yet after all. "Are you pissed at him or yourself?" W'ton asks gently as he tightens his arm around her and brushes his fingers through her hair. "And, well, you know you can disagree with what he did and still feel bad he's gone right? It doesn't change what you did, no. Or what he did. But he's your father and no one's going to think you suddenly find him all peaches and roses just because you're sad he's gone. You're allowed to miss him and still not agree with what he did. The two are not the same thing."
<< She is busy. There are many of us here, >> Elaruth reasons, touching her muzzle to his neck. << It is likely not deliberate. Perhaps if you chase her, she will, >> she agrees, quiet again and starlight reflecting on the surface of still water. She blinks as one of the children playing trips and she lets out a quiet rumble of concern. "Him! He went and died," tumbles from Hattie's mouth before she's had the time to think what those words might be evidence of. "They /are/ going to think that. I'm /not/ allowed to... to..." Whatever she's trying to say, she doesn't manage to make it anything sensible and she only sighs, sharply. "Really, you should get out whilst you still can," she mutters dryly.
<< Yes. I shall not let it concern me. >> Dasarth dismisses it at least from conversation with her. If he worries over it with his rider later that's his business. << If you do not wish me to chase her I shall not. W'ton says you will leave the Weyr when she rises. We will go with you if you prefer. >> It's an honest offer. Maybe not one he could keep, but he's willing to make such a sacrifice for her! When she rumbles he looks below and then turns his head to nuzzle her neck. << It is nothing. It is like when Chielyth and Gedroth chase each other's tails. >> Arms tighten around Hattie as W'ton pulls her in closer. "Who cares what they think? If they feel better thinking something that's not true let them. You're allowed to do whatever you want, you know." He pauses there and leans down to press a kiss against her neck before a smile curves his lips. "Especially with me," he whispers before lifting his head with the grin still in place. "And stop that, missy. You know I'm not going anywhere. Shells, woman! That's a ridiculous notion. Just like it's ridiculous to think that being sad your dad is gone means he didn't do anything wrong to you."
Elaruth's gaze lingers on that child until she's absolutely sure they're still in one piece - like she could do anything if they weren't - then dips her head low to curve her neck round and look up at Dasarth. Maybe she doesn't like looking down quite all the time. << If you wish to chase her, then you should. It is not my place to ask otherwise. You are your own person, >> she says simply. Hattie stretches and lounges down into the bronzerider's lap so that she might look up at him in a similar way. "They're stupid. They'll think it. And that aside, if I let myself think I'm /not/ pissed... Well, I have to live with myself in the morning, so to speak. I have to live with being a hypocrite," she murmurs, eyes darting away at the very last moment. She blinks rapidly and covers her eyes with one hand; looks back at him and by then she's still not crying. It's an obvious ploy or effort to distract either one or both of them when she reaches for his collar to pull him down to her all without speaking, but at least she doesn't pretend otherwise.
With his wing draping down over her Dasarth squirms a bit until he's sure he's comfortable. << I am my own person, but but I would rather be with you then chase her. >> Smooth. Maybe he's been picking things up after all. His front paw moves to sit atop hers for a bit before it settles down next to hers. << The only one I have to chase is you. >> Because, well, he /has/ to. Once his lap is occupied W'ton slides his arm from around her shoulder so he can play with the back of her neck. "I know what you're doing," he murmurs when she pulls him down. He's got no comment for the other stuff she said. "And just because I'm going to let you distract me now and get all naked and sweaty doesn't mean I won't be here if you change your mind about crying." But who has time for crying now when his hands have to get busy while he kisses her? Out on the ledge Dasarth stirs and tells Elaruth << W'ton says if she needs to go see her family we will go with you. Just let us know if you think she will need us. >> Then his rider has nothing else interesting to say and he'll sit there until suggesting they go flying.
The queen settles closer and relaxes, curling up so that she might lie with her head set down upon both gold and bronze forepaws. << ...I want you to chase me. >> Elaruth’s voice goes very faint and drifts almost to non-existence as she makes as rare a thing as a request for herself, or an admittance. She can’t find words after that and has to rumble confirmation that she will indeed pass on what his rider has said. “I know what I’m doing,” Hattie breathes, perhaps meant as retort and reassuring response in one. Then she’s too busy very determinedly getting rid of his clothing and returning his kiss. There’s certainly no time for crying, not now, but if she ever does decide such a thing is acceptable, he’ll likely be the only one - human - who might bear witness to such a thing.
Where: W'ton's weyr
When: Almost lunchtime on day 10, month 3, turn 20
What: Hattie needs to vent. With her fists. Not on W'ton though. Him she just talks to.
While it's still cold outside there are all the signs of spring in the air. This morning, for example, there's the rain instead of snow. Not that it will qualify as morning before too much longer with noon and lunch just around the corner. The rain has driven W'ton and Dasarth inside for now. The bronze stares outside balefully like someone is working against him, but W'ton's just seated on the couch with a sewing basket and a few clothing items in need of mending. It's quite possible a certain goldrider might find something of hers in the pile because it's not unknown for the bronzerider to notice something in need of a fixed button or seam or what have you and just take it and return it later. Being a good guy and it having nothing at all to do with him refusing to be seen with someone who wears shabby, to him, clothes. Exposition aside, there he sits with a cup of juice and his sewing.
Being how she is, Elaruth has likely warned Dasarth of her intention to land with a scrabble of claws on his ledge - today it's not a request, more a flash of an apology should she be interrupting and a hint that she may be doing only as she's told. Once her rider has dismounted, the queen briefly experiments with wings and the holding of them at different angles to remain as dry as possible, then gives up and settles for watching the rain fall down into the Bowl. Hattie herself has enough restraint to linger in the doorway and shuck her jacket before the rain she's caught on the journey can be inadvertently transferred to anyone or anything, but not enough to hang it up or any such thing: she drops it right where it could be rained on some more and heads inside proper. Once inside, her gaze finds W'ton and she murmurs a greeting; ducks her head like she might be able to hide the fact that she looks, frankly, like death warmed up, and strides across the room to aim a high kick at the punching bag that's - surprisingly - not received any attention over the past few days.
Dasarth grumbles at Elaruth, but without any emotion behind it. He's just grumpy in the rain. Especially since once she's landed and her rider has gone inside the bronze gets up from his warm couch and heads out to sit in the rain as well. His wing goes up over her to provide what shield it might. A high and mighty pain in the rear he might be, but he's learned to be a gentleman as well. With the warning given by his dragon W'ton's setting his sewing aside and rising to his feet as she enters and then crosses the room. Rather than head for her first he goes on and retrieves her coat to hang it up on a hook on the wall far enough inside it won't get wetter. That done he stands for a moment and watches her. "Did you want to talk?" he asks from where he is at. "Or did you come to abuse the bag?" If his usual cheer is a little less cemented it's just because he's worried and that he doesn't bother to hide from his expression.
Elaruth frets for a little while, edgy and anxious until she settles close to Dasarth and under his wing, which still doesn't prevent her from insisting, << You do not have to sit out in the wet with me... >> gently and over-earnestly. << I am sorry for disturbing you. >> Inside, Hattie shakes her head, though that might not be her reply, without looking over her shoulder. "I had things to say," she mutters, fists striking the bag now that that kick has served well-enough as an initial assault. "I /had things to say/ and he went and /died/ on me!" she shouts. "What gave him the right to do that? Why did he have to go and do that?" the goldrider demands. "He couldn't even live to old age and get that right."
The grumbling stops as does movement and Dasarth lets Elaruth get settled. << I do not have to do anything. >> His reply is, given who says it, not much of a shock in context. << I wish to sit out here with you. If there were space for us both inside I would allow you inside. >> His tail twirls and rests on hers. << If you get too wet you may go inside. >> It's not a grudging sort of offer at all. After all she does outrank him so she should get to be dry. Not that either of them might want to be inside right now. W'ton crosses the room, snagging a chair from the table, and setting down near enough to talk without getting hit by fist, foot, or bag. "I'm sorry, Hattie," he tells her gently. And...that's it. Because with any luck those few words won't get her turning her anger onto him.
<< I will not go inside, >> Elaruth quietly tells Dasarth. << I would rather be out here with you. In the rain. >> And she loops her tail loosely alongside his to prove it. Whatever is going on in her head right now has her flinching before she resettles. << I feel I should apologize for her. I am sorry. >> With any luck, Hattie wouldn't take those words the wrong way, but how she does that and how she's already managed to bloody her knuckles with the force of her strikes might be something of a mystery and yet not at all surprising. "Don't feel sorry for me," she snaps. "I'm not going to break down and bawl." Which she hasn't. Yet. A full minute or so of silence follows, with only the sound of fists hitting bag with nothing held back scattered quick pace through it, until she slows and stops; runs a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry," she tells the wall, not the bronzerider. "I'll go."
<< Then I will not be jealous of him >> Dasarth answers in, gasp, a humorous tone. << I would gladly sit in the rain for you. And there is no need to apologize for her. W'ton told me her clutchfather died. It makes them sad. >> He would not be sad, but he has only vague ideas on most days about who his father is. W'ton at least does not snap something back or stand up or sulk or anything. The bronzerider sits in his seat and watches and listens without doing anything. At least he does until she mentions leaving and then he's on his feet to intercept her before she gets more than a step or two away from the bag. "You're not going anywhere," he tells her quietly in a firm tone. "And I never said I felt sorry for you. I said I was sorry. I am sorry he died and left you feeling this way. I'm sorry you haven't cried yet." Reaching for her arm if she lets him have it he'll lead her to the couch. "Mostly I'm sorry you think you should go. I'm not sorry I won't let you though. If I have to I'll strip you down to keep you here until you're feeling better."
Elaruth leans and touches her muzzle just underneath the bronze's jaw, reeds rustling faintly for his show of humour. << It makes them sad, >> she agrees. << Though she will not have that said of her. You are well, today? Have you been told who you will fly with? >> Hattie stares up at W'ton the moment his fingers touch her arm, a blank quality to her eyes and her jaw set. There might be the tiniest of tugs back, yet she follows in the end and sits and stares at her knees, past the mess she's made of her hands. "Why should I cry?" she questions. "I'm not going to do that and make out that I take everything I've ever said about him back. I don't. Man was an indecisive fool. And appointed a fool to take his place." Whilst she's on a roll, she must figure she might as well carry on. "It's like with her. You shouldn't have to have this," she gestures towards herself, "inflicted on you just because something went wrong in my life."
Dasarth watches the bowl down below taking his usual delight in seeing everyone beneath him. When a couple of kids begin a game of tag he nudges at Elaruth with his muzzle so she might notice them too. << We are well. We will fly with Zaiventh. And Gedroth and his will be with us. That is good because someday Gedroth will be my second. >> It's all planned out, you see? << You did not have to wait to know. >> There's maybe sympathy for that because there was no competition after all to beat out. Once she's seated W'ton sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulder. "Crying doesn't mean you don't still think him a fool," he points out gently. "It just means for all his faults he's your father and you'll miss him if only the tiniest bit. There's not a thing wrong with that just like there's nothing wrong with not crying if you truly don't want to. But if you do...well, don't think I'll think a thing of it. Although I may make you launder my shirt if you get it all soppy." His grin is in full force when he teases, but it vanishes quickly as he shakes his head. "Now listen to me, Hattie," he tells her in his firm, no jokes, better be listening voice, "If you ever didn't come to me because something went wrong I'd have to give you a piece of my mind. That's what I'm here for. That's what she's here for. You're not inflicting anything on us. We love you and we want to be here for you."
The pale gold queen swings her head minutely in the right direction to follow the children and their game, eyes whirling a little faster as she tracks them. << Gedroth is wise. He will make a good second, >> Elaruth remarks, thoughtfully. << I did not have to wait, but I enjoy Peirith's company. I will learn from her. I hope to. >> Hattie laughs - or tries to - as he grins, but the sound doesn't come out right and she covers her mouth with one hand to smother it. The goldrider leans and rests her head on his shoulder, tucking herself against him despite tension that keeps her movement awkward and her frame rather rigid. "I'm not going to be a hypocrite. I'm not going to break out the stories of him carrying me round on his shoulders when I was little. It's done," she murmurs in a low voice. "You still want to be here for me when I can't cry and I sound like a heartless bitch?" Protest she may, though she moves closer still as if she'd hide against him somehow.
<< That is what I thought. He listens to me. >> Dasarth may not mean that the way it sounds, but there you go. << Peirith has never spoken to me. >> There's something in his voice there that may possibly be akin to self-doubt. Like there must be something wrong with him to never have spoken to the elder queen of the Weyr. But whatever is in his voice he doesn't tense up or swish his tail or act agitated. W'ton makes himself available for tucking and keeps his arm around her with a light touch on her shoulder. "Doesn't matter how you sound," he tells her quietly as he bends his head to kiss her hair. "I know how you are. You're not heartless and you're not a bitch. And if you don't want to talk about him then that's your decision. And if you don't want to talk about him until two turns from now then that's fine. If you never want to talk about him that does not make you a bad person." His other arm comes up so his fingers can brush against her cheek as he asks in a whisper, "So long as you don't feel guilty."
<< Peirith is kind. We played when I was smaller, >> Elaruth replies, with the absent air of someone who thinks they have something right, but can't quite piece it all together. << Perhaps she has never found a need to speak with you. It is sometimes better to be silent than to speak, >> she tries to suggest. "I don't have anything good to say," Hattie says, as she takes a breath in that lends an edge to her words. "And I can't go on and on and speak ill of the dead. I'm /pissed/," she insists far too vehemently. "...None of it will bring him back. Or make it better. And if I feel guilty, then I'm stuck with it, because I'm not taking it all back or changing my mind just because he's gone." Whatever's going on in her head, enough real sense remains to remember to struggle to kick off her boots before curling up on the couch and falling silent.
Dasarth is silent as he mulls over the words said. << Perhaps. But I do not know why she would not wish to speak to me. >> Confounded dragon! How dare she not find him fascinating. << But it matters little. Perhaps she will speak to me when she flies. >> But it's a nebulous thought all camp smoke and wind. He's still not chased anyone yet after all. "Are you pissed at him or yourself?" W'ton asks gently as he tightens his arm around her and brushes his fingers through her hair. "And, well, you know you can disagree with what he did and still feel bad he's gone right? It doesn't change what you did, no. Or what he did. But he's your father and no one's going to think you suddenly find him all peaches and roses just because you're sad he's gone. You're allowed to miss him and still not agree with what he did. The two are not the same thing."
<< She is busy. There are many of us here, >> Elaruth reasons, touching her muzzle to his neck. << It is likely not deliberate. Perhaps if you chase her, she will, >> she agrees, quiet again and starlight reflecting on the surface of still water. She blinks as one of the children playing trips and she lets out a quiet rumble of concern. "Him! He went and died," tumbles from Hattie's mouth before she's had the time to think what those words might be evidence of. "They /are/ going to think that. I'm /not/ allowed to... to..." Whatever she's trying to say, she doesn't manage to make it anything sensible and she only sighs, sharply. "Really, you should get out whilst you still can," she mutters dryly.
<< Yes. I shall not let it concern me. >> Dasarth dismisses it at least from conversation with her. If he worries over it with his rider later that's his business. << If you do not wish me to chase her I shall not. W'ton says you will leave the Weyr when she rises. We will go with you if you prefer. >> It's an honest offer. Maybe not one he could keep, but he's willing to make such a sacrifice for her! When she rumbles he looks below and then turns his head to nuzzle her neck. << It is nothing. It is like when Chielyth and Gedroth chase each other's tails. >> Arms tighten around Hattie as W'ton pulls her in closer. "Who cares what they think? If they feel better thinking something that's not true let them. You're allowed to do whatever you want, you know." He pauses there and leans down to press a kiss against her neck before a smile curves his lips. "Especially with me," he whispers before lifting his head with the grin still in place. "And stop that, missy. You know I'm not going anywhere. Shells, woman! That's a ridiculous notion. Just like it's ridiculous to think that being sad your dad is gone means he didn't do anything wrong to you."
Elaruth's gaze lingers on that child until she's absolutely sure they're still in one piece - like she could do anything if they weren't - then dips her head low to curve her neck round and look up at Dasarth. Maybe she doesn't like looking down quite all the time. << If you wish to chase her, then you should. It is not my place to ask otherwise. You are your own person, >> she says simply. Hattie stretches and lounges down into the bronzerider's lap so that she might look up at him in a similar way. "They're stupid. They'll think it. And that aside, if I let myself think I'm /not/ pissed... Well, I have to live with myself in the morning, so to speak. I have to live with being a hypocrite," she murmurs, eyes darting away at the very last moment. She blinks rapidly and covers her eyes with one hand; looks back at him and by then she's still not crying. It's an obvious ploy or effort to distract either one or both of them when she reaches for his collar to pull him down to her all without speaking, but at least she doesn't pretend otherwise.
With his wing draping down over her Dasarth squirms a bit until he's sure he's comfortable. << I am my own person, but but I would rather be with you then chase her. >> Smooth. Maybe he's been picking things up after all. His front paw moves to sit atop hers for a bit before it settles down next to hers. << The only one I have to chase is you. >> Because, well, he /has/ to. Once his lap is occupied W'ton slides his arm from around her shoulder so he can play with the back of her neck. "I know what you're doing," he murmurs when she pulls him down. He's got no comment for the other stuff she said. "And just because I'm going to let you distract me now and get all naked and sweaty doesn't mean I won't be here if you change your mind about crying." But who has time for crying now when his hands have to get busy while he kisses her? Out on the ledge Dasarth stirs and tells Elaruth << W'ton says if she needs to go see her family we will go with you. Just let us know if you think she will need us. >> Then his rider has nothing else interesting to say and he'll sit there until suggesting they go flying.
The queen settles closer and relaxes, curling up so that she might lie with her head set down upon both gold and bronze forepaws. << ...I want you to chase me. >> Elaruth’s voice goes very faint and drifts almost to non-existence as she makes as rare a thing as a request for herself, or an admittance. She can’t find words after that and has to rumble confirmation that she will indeed pass on what his rider has said. “I know what I’m doing,” Hattie breathes, perhaps meant as retort and reassuring response in one. Then she’s too busy very determinedly getting rid of his clothing and returning his kiss. There’s certainly no time for crying, not now, but if she ever does decide such a thing is acceptable, he’ll likely be the only one - human - who might bear witness to such a thing.