[Log] A Weyr-Warming Gift
Who: R'uen, Tiriana
When: Day 1, Month 9, Turn 20
Where: Tiriana and R'uen's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: Cirse is... thoughtful. Yeah. That's what that is.
So it's a usual day and R'uen comes home from wherever he's been wandering about, but today his head is down and his attention focused on the thing in his hands that he's unwrapping.
Mail frequently arrives at the weyr, but most of it seems to be Tiriana's, byproduct of her knot (and likely the myriad holders she gives grievance to). As ever, she's quick to look up from actual work when R'uen arrives, and the fact that he's unwrapping something immediately has all her attention. "What's that? Is that mine?" she demands.
"Yes, I'm opening your packages. Can you handle it?" R'uen counters just to be an ass, barely giving her a glance as he gingerly handles the mystery thing. And then it's unwrapped and with one look at it his idle steps come to a halt and he blinks. What he might have expected, this clearly is not it.
"No," Tiriana snaps back at once, already moving toward R'uen to snatch it away. He gets it open and freezes first, however, and so while she reaches one hand out to touch the top of the sheet of paper, she doesn't jerk it loose. Instead, she steps around to his elbow to peer at what it is herself. More staring ensues, for several very, very long seconds. "What--?" she begins.
R'uen turns a bit when she moves toward his elbow to offer her a better vantage on the face of the page. He pulls the note out, holding that where she can see too, though he reads it aloud. "'I hope you are enjoying being together. Good luck with your family.' It's from Cirse." Then the note is tucked away so he can stare at all those familiar-yet-not faces on the grid. "Are these supposed to be--?"
"The fuck--?" Tiriana gets around to finishing her initial statement, it would seem, though it doesn't really add much that couldn't be inferred already. This time, she does snatch, taking the note away from R'uen as soon as it's read; as though she expects to be able to glean something different from it. Her eyes scan the page quickly. "Why is she--. Are they--. Fucking /Faranth/!"
R'uen lets her take the note; he's too busy staring at the drawing again. Now his mouth is pinching tighter, turning into a pressed line as something rises up in his throat. The corners of his mouth curl first and then finally a laugh errupts. "I think so," he chuckles freely in plain disbelief. "That one there is making your face." He points to a surly looking one. And oh, he continues to laugh and snigger.
Tiriana is not laughing so much as looking aghast, and she takes a sharp step backward, away from the offending picture, when R'uen points to the one. "It is not!" she protests. "It's not. I don't look like /that/. The fuck. The /fuck/ is she thinking? R'uen, they're staring at me. Go through it in the fire already."
Tiriana's horrified reaction just makes R'uen laugh harder. "No way. That totally looks like you. You make that face all the time." He does his own immitation now, eyebrows low and displeased and pressing inward, mouth in a downturned line. Then the face is gone in a flash for more laughin. Instead of throwing it in the fire, he turns it to face Tiriana, holding it out at her like a little boy might do with a worm or a slug when trying to scare the little girls.
"R'uen!" Tiriana's voice is strident, and she glares at him, pretty much that exact look he just imitated for her benefit. "R'uen, stop it. It's creepy. I don't like it." Beat. Ever so reluctantly, she takes another glance at the nine little faces staring at her. "And anyway, they'd be cuter than that. The real ones."
R'uen looks again himself, but at least that does keep him from chasing her around the weyr with the picture. "I don't know. This one is kind of cute. Maybe." The bronzerider chuckles again, shaking his head, sucking his teeth. "This is the weirdest thing anyone's ever given me."
Edging very slowly back toward him and that picture, Tiriana gives it wary looks like one of the imaginary children on it is going to jump out and impregnate her on the spot. "Gee, you think?" she retorts to R'uen's last, with a dark look for him as she hovers back at his elbow to look at the pictures one more time. "Why in the hell would she send us something like this? Why would anybody ever /think/ of making anything like this?"
"I can't imagine. She had to sit around and dream up what each of these would look like." R'uen turns the page over the Tiriana, letting her take it even if that might put the drawing in grave danger. "There's an awful lot of them," he adds in, unable to keep the smirk from his expression or his voice.
Tiriana holds the drawing at arm's length, by the very edges. "Did she draw it herself?" she wonders, bewilderment sinking in now that the initial horror is past. "Or did she hunt up some artist, tell them what /we/ look like, and tell 'im to go wild? --I don't know which is worse." Her nose wrinkles up, and she gives a little shake of her head. Then, sulkily, "Fuck you."
"No, I pretty sure that's all her. She draws. Like that," R'uen remembers. "Well, not like -that- exactly. This is the first time I've seen a spread of possible offspring. So yeah, she had to think each of them up. And think about... us making kids." There's a frown then, one that twists.
"That's... not better," Tiriana decides upon hearing that explanation. Her mouth twists up again, and then she glances sideways at him. "What, she doesn't do this for every couple she meets? Hell, she could set up a booth in the living cavern and sell them. /R'uen/." Plaintive, she pushes the gift back at him.
"I don't know! Maybe she does. I didn't exactly sit around talking babies with her. And I never thought to ask 'Hey, Cirse, do you like to draw the imaginary children of couples you know?'" That R'uen. So remiss. "What do you want me to do with it?" he flusters a bit when she forces it back on him. And then the smirking starts again. "Frame it? Hanging it over the bed? Maybe it's a fertility charm." With the drawing in one hand, he reaches the other for Tiriana's waist. He also bounces an eyebrow at her.
"R'uen!" Tiriana digs a fist into his ribs then, glowering. "It's not funny. It's not. I don't care what you do with it, but that thing is not getting anywhere /near/ me or our bed. It's creepy." She makes another face, but lets him pull her closer all the same. "Besides. Why would we need a fertility charm, anyway."
"Fine fine," he says, as if he's making some enormous concession. "It wont go by the bed." With Tiriana tucked under his arm, R'uen looks at the little drawn faces again. "It looks like she spent a bit of time on this. I don't think I quite get her meaning but... the gesture is nice, right? It's a gift, handmade gift." He looks to the queenrider to see if she can muster any appreciation. And then he tacks on: "Promise me something?"
"It's... really good in a really... really creepy way?" is about the most appreciation Tiriana can muster; even that's lackluster as she stares at te face herself. But the question rouses her from her mesmerization, and she slants a look up at R'uen now. Warily, "What?"
"Promise me we won't have a kid that looks like that one?" He points to a face that looks rather simpering. "I don't think I could look at that every day. We'd have to ship it off to make your dad raise it." R'uen, generous, supportive father.
The one face makes Tiriana scowl, and this time, she steals the sketches back, pulling them closer to her. "Don't talk about my kids like that," she says, sulking at him as she pulls awY.
He lets her take the page, just as well since when she sulks like that and tries to draw away, R'uen is compelled to use both arms to keep her in his grasp. "No? I thought you hated them. I thought they were creepy." A smile lingers at the corner of his mouth, thoroughly enjoying her changeable moods.
Tiriana glances down at the paper, though it's hard to see the faces when she's got it half-pressed to her chest. At least it keeps her from wriggling away more. "Well, yeah. I do. They are. They look like... me. Plus you." She's a sharp one. "But isn't that what kids are, anyway?"
"Me plus you?" R'uen laughs into her shoulder, tugging her a bit just to upset her balance. "Yes, that's the gist of children. And you want them all, huh? Even that icky-sweet looking one?"
Tipping over, Tiriana leans heavily against him, one forearm raised to brace herself. "Not /all/ of them, but--you know what I mean. She probably doesn't look like that /all/ the time," and she pulls the picture back to eye that one child again, brows knitting as she tries to decide.
"Ah, with a mother's blind love," R'uen teases her quietly, bending to try to lay a kiss on her cheek or neck, wherever he can leave one. "Well, I'll let you put that drawing somewhere safe, then." His arms loosen, just in case she wants to go tuck into hiding right away.
"Shut up," is Tiriana's sullen response. "I hate you." Though that's hardly convincing at all, since she lets him kiss her first. She fidgets for a moment with her picture, eyes her desk, then steps over to tuck Cirse's handiwork into one of the drawers, very carefully. Then it's shut away, and she can relax, slink back to R'uen's side. "I don't know what it is with people now," complains the girl. "It's like suddenly we're in the same weyr and now we have to get right to popping out kids."
"Maybe they figure that now that we're in the same place, we'll be having so much sex that it's completely inevitable," R'uen muses with a chuckle; he rubs at the back of his neck. "Have people been asking you about it a lot? More than before?"
"Well. There is that," concedes Tiriana, with a smug little smirk of her own as she leans back against him. The question, though, earns a thoughtful sort of frown. "Not... really. I don't guess. I don't know. Madilla and me were talking about it the other day, but... And then this--thing." A handwave toward her desk and what's now buried within it.
"You were talking to a healer about having kids?" That's what R'uen hears at least, and it has a touch of something serious lining his brow. Not that she'll see it with her back to him. "Is everything okay?"
"No no no no no. No," says Tiriana, with emphasis and a wide-eyed look. "Me and this completely random little girl who /happens/ to work as a healer were talking about... kids. And stuff. It was not talking to a healer, okay?"
"Okay, okay," R'uen is quick to submit to her emphatic reply. "I did get it right though, yeah? Madilla is one of the healers?" He seems a bit proud of himself. "So, what was the outcome of the discussion with a completely random girl who happens to work as a healer?"
Tiriana nods. "Yeah, one of the apprentices," she agrees to that much. "She's like... fifteen? Sixteen? I don't know, somewhere around there. And she's freaking baby crazy. It's insane--I don't get it. It's like you're nothing until you pop out a kid or six. Holders--she's one, it's a holder thing. I don't get why some people are so... so eager, to just give it all up for some pukey, whiny, up-all-night, ruins-your-life baby."
"Eh," says R'uen, not nearly so worked up about the whole thing. "I'd guess that they're either daydreaming about having someone to make babies with, or they're daydreaming about making their own person to love. And that neither has much to do with actual babies. And then," he aims to get another kiss in there somewhere. "It's a holder thing." His arms go loose again. "Hungry? Or are you in the middle of something?" Before the drawing interupted her. Which reminds him, "Do you think we need to send a note back to Cirse? Thanks?"
"That's what she said," and Tiriana nods quickly. "All about how babies just love you so unconditionally and all that. Like they never grow up and stop doing that." She snorts, shakes her head just once more, a tiny little gesture before the shrug. "I dunno, if you want to you can. Probably shouldn't tell her how creepy it is, though. Unless that was what she was going for, in which case she did amazing."
"Well, they do. And they hate you for a while. It's required." That much R'uen knows about children growing up, having done the growing part himself at one time. "You didn't say whether or not you're busy," he reminds her. But he also lets her go so he can turn to the desk and pull out some paper to write his reply to Fort's Weyrwoman.
While he goes to write a reply, Tiriana follows to perch on the edge of the desk, tapping fingers against it. "I'm not busy," she answers finally, absently. Her expression's thoughtful on former words, and a few seconds later she wonders, "For a while? And then they get over it?"
"For a while what?" R'uen asks, bent and focused as he is on writing his letter. It's distracting enough that she's hovering there--now she's asking questions too? He lifts his head to look at her like he has no idea what she's talking about. And then it comes back to him and with that he drops his attention to the desk again. "Well, most people, I think. I did, at least."
"Yeah, but..." Tiriana trails off for a moment, frowning. "You're normal. Your family is normal. It's kind of scary. So there's really no /reason/ to hate them all or whatever, so of course you get over it. Right?"
"I guess. I don't know. Maybe I'd have gone on hating them had life turned out differently." Trying to have this discussion and pen his letter takes some effort and R'uen's brow furrows. But then he's signing his name. Done. Finished. He turns to Tiriana again with his smile ready. "How about you?"
"Different--different how?" Tiriana wants to know, eyeing him. The letter's indicated with a jerk of her chin. "Did you put my name on that, too? --What about me?"
Scratch that. Not done. R'uen adds, "And Tiriana," as he puts her name on the note as well. "There." He slides it toward her to look over. "Different, well, you know, I might have turned out bitter if I'd stayed stuck at the Hall. That sort of thing."
"Oh." Tiriana eyes the letter again, then reaches to pick it up, read it, and fold it up. "I'll stick it in the mailbag tomorrow," she offers. "Anybody sane would be bitter, if they were stuck there. I mean, it's not exactly... It's boring as fuck, y'know."
"Mm, thanks," R'uen says when she takes the letter for mailing. But her comments on his home garner a look. "It's not like that. I mean, come on, you like going to visit the Hall. It's nice there. It's home. I probably could have been pretty happy there, too. But I'd have never known anything else, I'd have never had a choice. That sort of thing."
Tiriana, lifting her brows, eyes R'uen. "Yeah, to /visit/. An hour there for dinner, though, and I'm ready to hang myself. It's--weird. They're normal and nothing ever happens there. You just go on living the same way every day. I'd rather have those raiders back at my door than to have to live like /that/."
"Well, different things become important, I guess. Smaller things. And things like raiders just seem far away." R'uen brushes it all away with a shrug and doesn't seem to have much else to say.
"Yeah," agrees Tiriana, though it doesn't seem to ease her any. She slides off the desk, though, letter in hand as she sticks it on top of the pile of other outgoing mail. "I'll stick with raiders, thanks."
A beat passes while R'uen watches her move away from the desk, and then his smile resurfaces. "Well, I'll do my bet to make sure your life is filled with... raids." He steps toward her to put a light hand at her elbow. "Dinner?"
It makes Tiriana leer, just a bit, as she imagines her own take on raiding, but then she's falling into step with him and heading to the door. "I'm starving," she confirms.