[Log] You Promised

[brazenbronzer]

Who: Brijana, R'dur
When: Day 21, Month 11, Turn 8
Where: R'dur and Brijana's Weyr, Telgar Weyr
What: R'dur and Brijana get sappy, surprise surprise, and share news after R'dur talks to T'bay.
Notes: Backdated to the day of R'dur and T'bay's talk, and Thunderbolt's accident.

R'dur and Brijana's Weyr
     Inside the weyr, the air is warmer, better insulated against chilly Telgar days and nights. The room is relatively short, but tall enough to make up for this. It has been divided into two levels: a lower living space and a smaller sleeping loft, connected by carved stone stairs up one side of the room. The loft overhangs the back half of the lower room, though the front half is left open, with a very high ceiling. Sound carries well from outside: the whistling of the wind, the rustling of Alidaeth on his couch.
     The lower portion of the weyr is sparsely decorated. It contains only an antique desk and a couple of small chairs around a table. The decor leaves much to be desired; the room hardly seems lived-in. Only a few personal touches grace the room: a pair of 'bottles' and a 'pouch' on the table, a 'painting' of R'dur's family hung over the desk. Glows keep the area well-lit.
     Upstairs, the neat decor coniunues. At the far end of the loft is a sturdy bed, covered with functional, not pretty, blankets. A small 'chest' stands beside it, bearing a 'knife' and the only glow in this section of the weyr.

Contents:
Brijana
Alidaeth
Ebillan
Bellicose
Locksley

Obvious exits:
Ledge

While rare in an Interval to lose a pair to between, it's not unheard of, and the somber news has filtered through the ranks of the riders to the gossiping lower caverns, and in its time Brijana. Since, upon her return to the couple's weyr, Bri moves with agitation, flittering from the bed post down the stairs to the table, then to the mirror where a slender finger caresses the etchings along the side -- anything, it seems, to keep moving and unthinking. On the table, long since cooled, is a slice of berry pie and a glass of milk.

The evening's half-over before R'dur finally dares venture homeward himself. Alidaeth lands more heavily than usual upon his ledge, and R'dur, glancing at the doorway, linger with the dragon before dismounting with a frown. Lest his rider chicken out entirely, Alidaeth croons to announce their presence, eventually goading R'dur into slipping inside. However, he stops shortly, watching Brijana's putterings before he offers a simple, "Hi."

In the middle of wringing a towel that doesn't need wringing, her neat-pinned hair disheveled from the bout with 'cleaning' as it were, Bri doesn't look up from her work until R'dur steps in with his greeting. Perhaps she was giving her weyrmate time to collect his composure after Alidaeth's croon, but at any rate, when the slender face lifts to catch sight of the brownrider, all pretty coloring fades out into pale white and the towel drops, forgotten to the floor. "Oh, R'dur," breathy in voice, she doesn't waste time in moving towards the door with outstretched hands in order to embrace him.

R'dur's expression is sheepish, sad, as Brijana comes to meet him; he edges a couple of steps foward as well before moving to return the hug. "Bri. I--I'm okay. It's okay," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I'm late. I--I spoke to T'bay. He's... Well. You understand." He lifts his shoulders slightly, biting his lip.

Deft hands work across R'dur's shoulders, before one comes forward, forcing her to pull away from the hug slightly, in order to curve fingers around his chin. Bri, much in the way her mother must have to her, murmurs soothing nothings barely a notch about her soft breathing as an undercurrent to his stammered words. "It's okay," she repeats, placing an adoring kiss onto his chin. "I understand. I even," a smile is attempted, crooked and endearing, and a turn of her voice regains some wifely scolding, "Saved a slice of pie for you from the kitchens. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"I'm not sure I can," admits R'dur, stealing a glance past Brijana's shoulder to the pie. "But I'll try. It looks--it looks good. I, uh... Well, the kitchens might not care to have me around for a few days--I'm afraid I was rather underfoot most of the afternoon." He raises a hand to rub idly at the back of his neck, lips pursing as he fidgets. "He... Bri, he wants to step down," the brownrider says abruptly, turning back with wide eyes to the woman at his side. "He--he's /going/ to step down."

"If you don't eat, you'll waste to nothing." Emphasis for her words is found in the light roll of massage across his already unbulky shoulders, and reproach shadows her warm eyes. "Eat, R'dur, you can do no good if you don't eat something. Even if it is only pie." As for his kitchen escapades, surely the young headwoman's heard something of that for she's helpless against a small smile that hints at her shapely mouth. "They'll forgive you. In time, I'm su-..." Long silence results at his last statement, Brijana's dark eyes flying open wide. "Because of... this?"

R'dur is easy to convince, to usher over to the table, where he settles uneasily into a chair and eyes the pie. "I know. Thank you, for saving it," he remarks after a moment, studying the slice of pie. He's distracted still, frown remaining, as he answers Brijana without looking. "Well... yes. He--he blames himself, and... Well, it really kind of... is. His fault, I mean. I--I don't think I helped him any, really. I tried--I told him he didn't have to, but he--he's sure." Pause. He finally starts picking at the pie's crust before adding quietly, "He wants me to take over."

Once he's seated, Bri leans across his shoulders, her arms dangling from over and her chin dropped into his hair before finding that familiar nook between his neck and shoulders. That he blames T'bay is as shock to her as the prior statement, and then as it's followed by even more surprising news the even-paced breathing into his neck quickens slightly. "And...," caressing and quietly bolstering in voice, "Will you?"

"He... he let him fly, Bri," R'dur answers, equally quietly. "He knew, and he let him. But... one mistake, even one that gets somebody--" he can't actually say 'killed' "--that doesn't mean he can't learn, he can't prevent it from happening again." Pause. He finally takes a real bite of the pie, chewing slowly, and finishing it with a sip of the milk. "I don't know yet. He wants to--to talk to the Weyrwoman, but... I don't know. I don't think I can--I'm not... I couldn't--what if I did it, too?" Got someone killed.

Still draped, Bri's arms tighten into a hug and her body leans forward so as to brush her cheek against R'dur's. Forward as she is, it's all the easier to find crumbs along his mouth and to reach over to brush it aside. "One mistake, it seems so severe to step down because of it. You learn from mistakes, right?" But for all her pragmatic thoughts on the subject, the chaste kiss she places onto the brownrider's cheek is a precursor to more self-centered thoughts voice fiercely. R'dur's victories are her own, after all. "You will do /splendidly/. Already, you would not have made the same mistake he would have."

R'dur wrinkles his nose as Brijana brushes away those crumbs, offering a small smile at the gesture. "I... I thought so," he agrees, nodding once. "But... What with Claret and all, he wants more time with her, too, and... I just don't know. I don't understand. Everyone likes him, I think--most everyone," corrects the rider after a pause. "I... I just... I don't want to take over like this. ... I don't really want to take over at all. You can say that, but I'm just--I won't make a good wingleader, I couldn't. I don't know anything about being a leader."

Whatever Brijana means to say next is cut short by a sudden swallow and watery eyes. After a moment to regain her composure, where an arm untangles itself from being draped to bring a hand to her mouth, the young woman again reaches down to give her weyrmate the slightest of hugs, a cuddle of absolute faith. "Then let him tend to his weyrmate. It may be that," solemn, dark eyes grow large and luminous as they turn to regard R'dur, "This is another reason on top of many for T'bay to wish to step down. Everyone likes you too, love, and will listen to you, and can't you believe me that I think you'll do marvelously. Well, everyone except me." She smiles sweet and winks impishly, "I love you, you know."

R'dur manages a half-smile of his own at Brijana's words, at her cuddling, which he's happy to return. "They do?" he queries uncertainly. "I mean, I'm not--I'm not..." He lifts his shoulders slightly, biting his lip. "I'll do my best, anyway. That's--that's the most I can do, right? And we'll... I'll have to change things, I can't--we can't be in this situation again. I don't ever want to have this happen again." Pause. At her praiseful declarations, he ducks his head slightly, ears pinkening inexplicably. "I love you, too."

For those pink ears, there's the gift of another kiss, one to each side as her head swerves around R'dur's neck. Masterfully, Bri continues her round about movement and slips herself onto one of the brownrider's knees, turning to face him. "You do that," she says firmly, in that way of someone who really has no true idea of what she speaks of, "Change things so it won't happen again." Another twist allows her to bring up the plate of pie and its fork, an idle twirl picking up some clumps of berries with just a sprinkling of crumbs. "If you finish your pie, I'll even put in a good word for you with Ailani. Shells, can you imagine her as our Weyrwoman? It's almost a pity," all innocence, she reflects teasingly, "I didn't Impress Soraeth, don't you think?"

R'dur's brows arch as Brijana seats herself on him, hands reaching out to steady her. "I'll try," he tells her indulgently, nodding. "I'll do my best--I really don't want to s--" His next words are cut off by a delicate cough, the brownrider covering his mouth with one hide more to hide the upward curve of his mouth than anything else. "A pity, yes," he manages, his lying voice as terrible as ever. "I think I like you just the way you are, though. Weyrwomen intimidate me," he teases lightly.

And like any couple that's picked up on quirks, and the ability to discern lying, Bri's pretty little brows lift and her nose wrinkles as she maneuvers the fork and plate into one hand so the other is free to poke into R'dur's tummy. "And I don't intimidate you? You think I really couldn't be a weyrwoman like Ailani or Tarien?" Hmph! A toss of her pretty hair later is followed by a mouthful of pie, and a decidedly sulky pout jutting forward Brijana's lips.

"Oh, you do," R'dur is quick to assert, smile only broadening at Brijana's poutiness. "That's why you can't be a weyrwoman: you'd just be /too/ intimidating. I'm thoroughly cowed as it is." Though perhaps not quite so abjectedly terrified as he once was, still quite thoroughly at her whim. "I'm just joking, though. You'd make a wonderful weyrwoman, I'm sure. Our lower caverns could use a little more decorating," he notes, with another smile, his earlier somber mood lightening at the attention from his weyrmate.

Still discerning a note of teasing in that comment on decoration, Bri's poutiness subsides, but not completely. "Have some more pie," is all she asserts, pushing a fork full of the dark, sugary berries towards R'dur's mouth. "It's far too sweet for me to finish today. Maybe," she muses, a quick smile venturing forward to foretell of humor and that she's not truly upset at anything he's said, "St'vren's right and I'm finally getting older. Mum always said you lose taste for sweets when you get old."

Brijana looks to be closer to twenty than fifteen, but if you ask (or are just really good at the whole age guessing thing), her turns tell a different story at 22 Turns, 5 months, and 14 days old.

R'dur quirks a brow at Brijana's latter words, though he obligingly leans forward to take that bite of bite, chewing thoughtfully. "I wouldn't know about /tastes/, but, well. It /has/ been almost four turns," he points out, "since we, well. And longer than that since we first met." He offers a slow, lopsided smile for that memory, reaching for another bite of pie. "Some things are bound to change. It really doesn't seem like it's been so long, though. This is... not the way I imagined things to go. My life, I mean. But I like it."

Brijana curls an arm around R'dur's neck and slips further into his lap, thus making it easier for him to eat for himself now that the plate is set back on the table. "What did you expect for yourself?" Despite the fact there is no berry stains on his mouth, it seems reflexive for Bri to brush at her weyrmate's lips and pressing her lips firm there. "Are you unhappy? Do you want for anything?" Thin lines worry the young woman's face and her ruddy hair shifts with her movement to suss out any indications of such on the brownrider's face.

With one arm finding a comfortable resting place around Brijana, R'dur eats one-handed, and slowly, his expression growing thoughtful at her questions. "I... I guess I just always assumed I'd stay at home and work there," he admits. "I didn't expect to leave, or impress, or have you, or be a wingleader--if the weyrwoman even agrees to /let/ me be," he adds in a brief word of caution. "But I'm--I'm happier here, now, than I ever was back there. Do you... do you ever wish..." He doesn't quite finish the question, his worried expression speaking for itself of his fears.

"Hmmm?" Oblivious, for once, Brijana pokes at the crust with a tentative finger, and brings it up for a taste test that results in another wrinkle of her nose. "Do I ever wish?"

R'dur is almost done with the pie at this point, mostly just playing in the crumbs, as Brijana does. Prodding them idly, squishing them against the fork, he averts his gaze as he answers, "That things had, I don't know, turned out differently. That you hadn't... We hadn't... There was that bronzerider." R'dur's nose wrinkles involuntarily at the memory of that man. "With the weyrmate. And--others? I don't know." A shrug.

Bri brushes her fingers against the wrinkle of R'dur's nose, attempting to smooth them out soothingly. "Would you have?" Brijana asks with forcible lightness, "I mean. Would you have even pursued me? I was quite brazen, you know." She secrets a smile and leans forward to kiss that wrinkled nose. "I'd forgotten his name even, that bronzerider. I chose to be with you because I can see all the qualities that'd make a wonderful wingleader. But more than that," for all her pretty speeches, the young woman pinkens prettily, "You're wonderful beyond the stammering."

R'dur blushes to match Brijana, eyes tracking her lean in to press a kiss to his nose. "Brazen, right," he murmurs in response. "I was... oblivious. I just thought--I don't know. I /didn't/ think, I think. I'm not very good at pursuing." As though that weren't painfully obvious. "I'm... really happy it worked out, though. Maybe this wingleader thing... maybe it will, too?" Hope is apparent in his voice. After a moment, he adds. "P'trel. His name was P'trel." Trust him to remember that little detail.

"P'trel," Brijana's repetition is absent, wearing the name on her tongue and then discarding it with a roll of her shoulders. "In the past. Besides-," the young woman suddenly considers her lap and then tilts her head to find R'dur a long moment. "I wasn't, I didn't, I mean..." Instead, Bri just smiles, following the line of her lips upward soon thereafter with her face coming to level a look for her weyrmate. "I tried to clean," she notes, seeking praise, though her attempt at cleaning has made more of a clutter than before.

"It looks--nice," R'dur says, glancing around the room rather than at the woman curled up on him. "I'll finish it up later; you don't have to worry about it." I.E. please don't mess it up any more. He offers her a warm smile, then prompts the subject she didn't finish gently: "You didn't what?"

"I didn't want to tell you today," Brijana begins, goaded into it by R'dur's gentleness, but no doubt, given how freely she passes on this information, wanting to do it all night. "Because you'd have so much more on your mind. But I saw the healers." Briefly, one hand falls to cover his, before dancing off to find the edge of the table again. Her other arm, tightens into the comfort provided by his chest and the head of ruddy-gold locks finds rest on his shoulder.

Just those first few words are enough to set R'dur on edge, the brownrider tensing at once. "The... healers?" he manages to squeak out, eyes widening--no doubt already running through a thousand horrified scenarios of terrible diseases, wasting sicknesses, and grievous injuries.

Again, her hand falls to his, this time remaining there before guiding it to her tummy: a very flat affair, that despite her perchance for sweets, has somehow managed to never grow. "You have to promise though," Brijana intones, solemn beyond the glitter of mischief bright in her eyes. "Promise, okay?"

R'dur is easily arranged, no protest forming on his lips. Instead, earnestly, still with that uniquely worried expression to his face, he nods sharply. "I promise. Bri, what--what is it? What's wrong?" he queries, brows knitted.

"Promise you won't step down if Ailani thinks you'll do as splendid a job of wingleader as I think you do. You're not T'bay." Brijana says, signing R'dur's life away as she does so -and- getting in a jab at the former wingleader. A pretty shrug, she's practiced at this kind of thing, draws out more anticipation and with low words meant just for the brownrider's ears, she shares, "I didn't think I'd ever want to have babies."

"I promise," R'dur repeats solemnly, frown lingering at her words. "I promise." At her whisper, however, his expression only becomes more perplexed, until--finally--something clicks. He suppresses that first instinctive urge to leap to his feet and dump the woman in his lap unceremoniously on the floor, but only just; instead, staring in shock at Brijana, he reaches at once to pull her closer, tighter--and just as quickly releases, drawing back. Stammered worries ensue. "You're not--you're serious--but you can't--how--but we--you're okay--I didn't hurt--you're sure?" He doesn't breathe throughout, is hardly even at the end.

As if anticipating such a reaction, Bri's arms tighten around R'dur's neck, drawing herself in neatly to be held all the closer, and while he releases her, she clings on looking almost sheepishly delighted, though a healthy dose of uncertainty shadows her expressive eyes. "I'm- I'm serious. I, nearly a month in the healer's say. You can't step down because of me, now," a scold ready in her throat, "You promised. You /promised/!" Already, she's designs on being Mrs. Thunderbolt for a long while yet, baby or no. "I'm fine. I really am."

At this point, R'dur seems almost afraid to touch Brijana, as though she'd suddenly turned into glass at that announcement. "You--you--we--baby," is the extent of his murmurings, until finally he finds coherency again. "I promised, I promised. I--you're sure, though? You're really fine? The--the baby's fine? Everybody's fine? I don't think I'm fine." Yet, while he might look a little pale, a slow, decidedly goofy smile is spreading across his face, ear to pink-tipped ear. "We're really... We're really going to have a baby," he repeats, once more for good measure. Pause. Brows knit again, that high-wattage smile dimming slightly. "You're really fine? You're... happy?"

Remnant uncertainty still lingers in the young woman's dark eyes as the full impact of her confession sinks in. Her lips twitch and with a blink to wash all her concerns away - least of all the growing fat part - Bri turns a radiant smile onto R'dur. "I'm happy if you don't step down." Firmly, she reaches for his hand again to press it to her, as yet, nonexistent stomach. "We're having a baby, sweetheart. I hope she's a girl." Already decided, but what else can you expect from Brijana?

R'dur's touch is light indeed, but he doesn't draw away any more, instead moving to encircle Brijana with his other arm again, smile locked in place by her words. "I won't," he agrees, nodding. As to the gender? "Girls are nice," he concurs. "But it doesn't matter to me which it is. We're having a /baby/." Beam.

"You'll love her as much as you love Ysalia?" Sudden, inconceivable concern, darkens Bri's eyes and tweaks her brows together. Her hold of R'dur's hand tightens possessively.

R'dur vainly tries to suppress a wince at Brijana's question, the tightening of her hand on his. "Yes, of course," he reassures her quickly, lowly. "I'm not going to play favorites, Bri--I couldn't. Ysalia is... Ysalia is my first, but this is, this is /ours/, all right?"

"She's your first," Brijana repeats, just a fraction dully. "Well, at least ours will be prettier." Never down for too long, it's a particular talent to be able to find the silver lining at the expense of others. With her hand still on his, she tries to guide him in stroking her belly -- practice for later, of course. "She'll be very beautiful, won't she? Our-, oh! We get to pick a name!"

"This is /our/ first," R'dur continues, in that same reassuring tone he's so good at. "And she'll be very pretty--beautiful, like her mother." This, at least, has no hint of an untruth to it: he's perfectly sincere, hand moving slowly across her stomach. "Oh. Name. Oh, no," he says unenthusiastically. "That's the very worst part. Everything else just... happens. I'm... not very good with names."

"I do hope it is a girl." In spite of her references to her stomach as 'she', Brijana is well aware that the gender of a child might not always fall into place the way she'd like: sheer force of will notwithstanding. "Did you-," she hesitates and glances towards the ledge, "-Have any wing work you needed to do?"

"If that's what you hope," R'dur agrees, "so do I." He offers another happy smile, one that sobers only slightly at her question. "I--no, I don't think so," he admits. "We're... we're going to take a couple of days to recuperate, I think. I decided."

"Then," Brijana doesn't hide her delight at his lack of work well, nor does she hide what she desires well. "Let's go to bed, love." Affectionately, with her arms still wrapped about the brownrider's neck, she also lifts her legs obligingly so he can slip an arm below them and carry her off. "And enjoy the next few days. To recuperate," she adds.

On R'dur's end, there's a brief pause, thoughtful in nature. "Can we /do/ that?" he wonders after a moment, befuddled and making no move just yet to scoop her up.

Brijana's laughter is bright and amused. "Oh, R'dur." She might as well have said: 'Oh, you fuddy,' but in all good affection as she reaches up to muss the brownrider's hair. "Of course we can, silly." And that is sealed with a more insistent kiss. "We have to celebrate *somehow*, right?"

R'dur smile sheepishly, glancing downward. "I... guess," he agrees slowly. "I mean, if it hasn't hurt to this point... Um." Blushing again, he shakes his head. "It just seems weird, now," he concludes. Not that that stops him from sweeping arms around Brijana and, carefully, slowly, getting to his feet. "Maybe I just won't think about that."

"Maybe," Brijana agrees in sultry fashion, "You shouldn't."