It's Always Today When It Gets Here
IC Date: Day 19, Month 7, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Vanya, D'ven
Location: Mountain Waterfall, D'ven's Weyr
Synopsis: And the walls of Vanya's carefully constructed reality begin to crumble after her rather traumatic confrontation with Aida the night before. Caught in a storm, stranded in the small cave E'sere showed her, Vanya is rescued by a concerned D'ven who felt it was time they talked. His revelations are enough to begin the breakage he then has to help mend. (Warning: Mention of adult situations, serious psychologial breaking, and also long, but there just wasn't a place to cut it without losing the momentum. Kudos to D'ven for his sterling RP!)
Mountain Waterfall,
Near Dusk
A half-day's brisk-paced hike from the Weyr, this clearing may just be worth the time it takes to get there. Against the backdrop of the purple-grey mountains, this glade nestles a deep plunge pool churned by a waterfall plunging from a river high above. The river is clear and cold; it winds on through the wide meadow and into the woods, flowing swiftly down the mountainside. The plunge pool is deep enough for a dragon to swim in, though the thunder of the falls is loud and keeps the water forever chilly. Partway up the cliff face is situated a small outcropping of rock. The aesthetically minded may simply admire the little jut while the braver may use it as a diving launch. A dark overhang behind the waterfall suggests an alcove or opening, the presence of which is better known by common visitors.
The sky is still dark, but the worst of the storm has moved on, passing over the weyr and beyond, loosening its rage on forest and field, mountain and roadways. Winds have lessened, but the weather is still gloomy and the rain still falls. Sometimes it's heavy, but there are moments when it lessens, allows for some visibility over the meadow and the waterfall. There are no rainbows in the mist, just growing darkness, and a few limbs fallen from the few trees. The grass is beaten down somewhat, and so many of the flowers gone, blown into the pool to gather around the rocks in quieter places. There is promise of more rain to come, likely falling on into the night. Not a glimpse of the setting sun; it lies hidden behind pendulous clouds that hang ominously on every horizon. There is no sign of life in the meadow, save the rain and the falls. Only a pair of what look like water-soaked leather boots on one of the rocks near the edge of the pool. As if someone simply dropped them there, forgot them at some point.
D'ven, having had some spare time and feeling he'd left things long enough since that fateful day in E'sere's weyr, visited the infirmary to track down Vanya. Only to be told she'd gone out riding. When the storm broke, and there was still no sign of her, he wandered down to the stables. The news the healer's runner returned on its own gave him concern, especially given recent events. And so he and Teraneth land near the waterfall, since that's where the stablehand pointed him.
It's quieter in the small cave now the storm has passed. No more rolling thunder to nearly deafen her above and beyond what the waterfall muffled, and Vanya has curled into a ball on the floor, gathering what warmth she can from the blanket. She's eaten most of the food, even ventured close to the falls to catch a handful of water without getting too wet. Her clothes have lost their dampness from her body heat, and save for her feet -- which are bare, cursed luck forgetting her boots! -- she's fairly comfortable in the small enclosure. It would have been so nice if -- But, no, Vanya won't think about that anymore. She's done enough thinking for the day, and she knows what she /must/ do when she returns. Some internal clock tells her it's growing near dark now, and from all indications, she'll be here for the night. Well, the satchel makes a decent enough pillow, and at least she'll be out of the wind and rain. One night here won't kill her. Likely won't even make her sick.
As he wanders around, D'ven's gaze falls on the boots. With a frown, he looks down at them thoughtfully. A multude of theories pass through his head, none of them sitting quite right. "Vanya?" He yells, on the basis that she surely wouldn't have just wandered off without her boots. As he continues to yell, Teraneth bugles loudly to make things easier on his rider.
"Ah, shards, more thunder..." Vanya mutters, sighing as she lays her head down. "Will this storm /never/ end?" But then there's something familiar about the sound, even muffled as it is by the roaring falls. She sits up. Cocks her head toward the entrance. Frowns in concentration. Not thunder. No, something else. Something --! A dragon! That's a dragon bugling. A dragon! Well, thank someone for noticing she was overdue. Or, maybe the runner found his way home? Whatever! Vanya is upright and yelling back, wincing as her voice echoes in the small cave. Then she's grabbing her blanket, stuffing it back into the satchel, yelling again, this time toward the entrance, hoping maybe even if the rider can't hear her, the dragon can. Grabbing for her dress -- and stopping. There's /no/ way she's going out there naked. She's lost a lot of her modesty, but not that much. No, she'll just have to risk getting back in that swirling water with clothes on. Perhaps she can wrap in the blanket during the trip back to the weyr. So, once more she braves the falls, the icy water, shivering, but the dress offers some protection from the cold. It's only once she's through and peering into the near-darkness that she truly freezes when she recognizes the voice. Recognizes the rider. And the dragon. Her elation at being rescued ceases and she literally comes to a halt halfway to shore, caught like one of those proverbial herdbeasts the dragons so love to devour at the identity of her saviour. Eyes wide, and the shiver that runs over her is not just from the cold water and rain now.
"You were behind the..." D'ven shakes his head, not having known about the cave back there. "Huh." There's a pause as he notices the fact Vanya has stopped. "Well, come on out. Is something wrong?"
But Vanya can only stand there, staring, and since the day is darkening and rain is falling -- she can only get so wet, after all! -- it's hard to see her face. But, not so dark and rainy the expression of wariness cannot be missed. She doesn't move, not for a long time, and not until there's numbness beginning to creep up her legs. Then she comes forward, but slowly, reluctantly. Certainly not with the eagerness she showed when first emerging from behind the falls, and certainly not as she's greeted D'ven before. By the time she makes it to shore, the healer's teeth are chattering, and she's shaking with cold. At least, that's a good excuse for the goosebumps on her skin and the paleness of her skin. Hair is plastered to her head, and the dress weighs heavily on her body, clinging and making walking difficult. "D-d'ven..." she stammers, literally quaking with cold. At least, that's she hopes he thinks it is.
D'ven frowns thoughtfully. "You're freezing, Vanya. And yet, you suddenly seemed like you'd prefer to stay in that water." There's a long pause. "I think maybe we need to talk. But first we need to get you back to the Weyr, and into some dry clothes and a blanket." He points out, starting back towards Teraneth.
There's nothing Vanya can do but cling to that satchel she holds close to her chest and stumble forwards, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress. It may well be ruined, but what does that matter? She can't even talk now, she's so cold and shaking. A nod, if it could be called that. Just a movement of her head, eyes never leaving D'ven, wary and slightly unfocused, as if the water, the rain, the chill has leeched all her energy, all her will. The rain-slicked rocks are tricky, and she nearly slips, giving an inarticulate cry as she stumbles forward, heel catching on the hem. Her eyes close and she flings her arm out, finding the solidity of D'ven's arm and clinging to it, despite anything inside her that screams that could be dangerous. He's warm. Wet from the rain, but warm!
D'ven shakes his head as Vanya clings to his arm slightly. "Honestly, whatever made you...well, never mind that. Let's get you in the dry." Arms around her to try and keep her warm, the bronzerider steers her toward Teraneth. Time to head back.
++++Travel Cut++++
Teraneth's Ledge
This massive ledge is oddly shaped, jutting out like a fat stone tongue from the wall. Its surface has been deeply scored by the passage of countless dragons over the turns. While it doesn't receive the sunlight that many of the ledges higher along the wall do, the walls of the bowl do keep the wind from raking over its surface.
Once D'ven and Vanya get inside his weyr, he quickly finds a blanket and offers it to her. "You'll want to get out of those clothes fast, though I'm sure you know that." As he talks he heads towards his bottle rack. "Luckily, I have a bottle of something that will do the job for warming you up. Smooth, but firey. It'll heat you from the inside out."
There's only a moment of hesitation as Vanya watches him head toward that rack of bottles. She has all too clear of a memory of what those bottles hold, but even she knows the value of their contents in a case like this. And, she knows she has to strip off the dress, find something warm, something dry. Her other clothes are in the satchel, the satchel that is dropped as she fumbles to open it with fingers nearly numb from the cold. Thankfully, she was spared the icy, inky blackness of between, though even the short flight back to D'ven's weyr was enough to make her nearly lose feeling in her feet. "Th-th-ank y-ou..." is stuttered, and she stumbles again as she reaches for the leather bag on the floor.
"You're welcome. Here, let me do that." He replies, opening the bottle and holding it out to her as he attempts to pick the bag up and open it for her. "You medicate yourself, and I'll get whatever you want from here. You're in no fit state, and you shouldn't be standing."
It's not really easy for her to grasp that bottle. It takes all Vanya's effort to keep it from slipping out of both her hands. She lifts it, takes a mouthful, swallows. And coughs, barely managing to turn her head to keep from covering D'ven with the mouthful of spirits she tried to drink. Wracking coughs that seem to go on for a time before she manages to recover. Some of it stayed down, and it burns all the way from her mouth to her stomach where it sits like liquid fire. Her eyes are wide and she can't quite take a breath without shaking. But it's warm! "C-cl ..." She tries again, gasping for another breath. "C-clo ... thes ..." she finally manages on the third try. And then Vanya swallows and breathes. And then takes a smaller bit from the bottle, coughing again, but now at least her throat is a bit number and it stays down.
D'ven makes a sound of understanding. "Clothes." He echoes, finding them, placing them at the edge of his bed, then shutting the back and placing it beside them. "There you are." He murmurs, watching approvingly as she manages to drink some of the spirits.
The other dress is damp, as is the blanket inside the bag, but far less than what she's wearing. Vanya thrusts the bottle to him, taking careful steps to the bed, since the floor is unsteady again -- only this time she knows why and is slow. At the bed, she stops and fumbles now with lacings and belts and whatnot, fingers chilled and maybe a little confused. Vanya whimpers in frustration as the knots don't want to cooperate, no longer caring if anyone hears her cursing, using language no hold-bred lady should know. Finally, she manages to get everything loosened and strips. No time or caring for modesty now, just wanting something dry, something warmer than the wet things she now wears.
D'ven takes the bottle and holds onto it, smiling slightly at the language that comes out of Vanya's mouth. Once she's changed the bronzerider approaches and drapes the blanket over her shoulders if allowed, before offering the bottle again. "Want anymore of this?"
Her sodden dress is kicked away and oh, yes, Vanya accepts the damp blanket. Indeed, Vanya accepts anything from D'ven that will make her warm, the blanket, the bottle, his body, /anything/. Without question. Without any sign of wariness. She takes the bottle from him, hands shaking less now, but she's far from being comfortable. She's healer enough to know her body is far too lethargic and unresponsive to be in a healthy state. And her feet are like blocks of ice. The blanket is drawn up over her head. "F-feet ... c-cold ..." She says, taking another drink, this time swallowing slower, letting the alcohol slide down, warming her as it does. Bottle handed back. "N-no more ... ca-can't g-get s-sleepy ... stay aw-aw-awake. Must ... awake." Vanya looks up at the rider, and there's a slightly unfocused look in her eyes. "Keep m-me awake... till I'm ... w-warmer..."
"Keep you awake, huh?" D'ven murmurs, putting the bottle away. Then he returns to her side. "Come on, why don't we climb into bed and cuddle? I promise I won't take advantadge of you unless you ask me to, but it's going to be the easiest way to warm you up. As for keeping you awake...we can talk?"
Vanya isn't going to argue. It makes sense, and body heat is a way to warm up. She'd shared a bed with her parents for that very reason when she was a child. And, her memories of /this/ very bed are shoved aside for the very practical purpose it will now serve. She nods to both, standing up, then very awkwardly climbs into the bed, sinking into the softness of the mattress without hesitation. "Y-yes... talk ..." Vanya agrees. At this point, her body is growing far too used to the cold-warm sensations it's feeling, and even the fear she felt at seeing him is dulled by practicality.
Slipping into bed beside her, D'ven puts his arms around her and snuggles close in an attempt to warm her up. "So, talk." He muses thoughtfully. "Maybe you can tell me now what it is that made you so unwilling to come out of the water when you saw me?"
There's no unwillingness now. Not even a moment's hesitation, and even through his clothes, he can feel how cold her feet are. "W-was afraid y-you were angry w-with me," Vanya says, teeth still chattering a bit. "Y-you saw m-me when ... in ... when y-you came t-to ... " She really doesn't need to finish, and tries again. "Was afraid ... I got in ... in your way ... stopped E'ssssere from d-dying." It takes a bit for her to get it all out. The talk he gave her, how she tried to warn E'sere, but he was poisoned. How she was afraid he and Vey were working together. And then how he wouldn't look at her when he saw her in E'sere's weyr. It comes out slowly. Even her thoughts that he'd set her up, too, because she wouldn't listen to him and leave. Each word is almost painfully pulled from Vanya, reluctantly.
There's a long silence at the end, and then D'ven finally laughs. There's no humor in it, though. "So, you think I did it?" He summarises, in a slightly suprised tone. "You think it's me, who was behind all this? And thus I'm angry with you, because you've thwarted my evil plans?" He dosn't seem to know quite what to say to that.
"Was...n't going to s-say anything to anyone," Vanya says, head buried against D'ven's chest, huddled there like some small, terrified child, trying not to shiver. She's gradually warming up, body absorbing warmth from the rider slowly. "I don't th-think they would believe me and ... and I was afraid ... didn't want to think it was y-you. I don't know what to th-think anym-more. It was ... you were so ... didn't t-tell me anything but ... to l-leave and to stay out of your w-way." Vanya's voice is small and soft, almost fading out at several points as she begins to drift on sensations of warmth and alcohol.
D'ven shakes his head slowly. "Of course I was distracted, and rambly, and vague. I was hardly sleeping, drinking too much, and about to bring charges against the man I always believed was going to be our solution to all these problems. For causing them." He sighs. "Vanya, I assure you, if I was going to kill someone I'd do it with a knife. Like a man. And I'd more than likely want them to be armed as well, and aware I was trying to kill them." A pause. "But, if you truly believe this, and think it's worth it being investigated, you must tell the Weyrleader."
"C-can't," Vanya says, moving her head from side to side in vehement denial. "No one w-will believe me, n-not now," she adds, perfect misery in her tone and expression. "J-j'cor ... you left b-before he ... he made me get another healer to take c-care of E'sere because he ... D-dara said it was b-because he and I are ... I'm too ... involved. And ... n-now ... Oh, I can't," she moans and buries her head harder against D'ven's chest, hurt and cold and the picture of someone torn in too many directions. "It can't be y-you, either. I don't want to believe it. I don't want to!"
"I promise you it isn't." D'ven replies, before shaking his head. "You must, Vanya. If only for your own peace of mind. I will back your request to speak to J'cor, and recommend he has one of the queens question Teraneth. Not even bronzes can lie to a queen."
Again with the head shaking. "I ... I ... Aida," Vanya finally manages to get out. "I ... she ... she said I needed to talk b-before I exploded ..." Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, her hands balled into fists, her entire body reflexively wanting to form itself into a tiny, fetal shape that could disappear. "I didn't want to, and tried to not say who I felt it was. I ... tried to be vague, like you were, but she kept saying if I knew who'd threatened her that I n-needed to tell her. I ... I knew she was your f-friend, and ... and ..." The rest is lost in a strangled, inarticulate string of words that make very little sense. There's mention of rumors about why he went to fort, about E'sere being poisoned with aconite, a derivative of the anodyne plant that grows around Fort, and about distilling herbs being nearly the same as what he knows as a brewer. How it all made a twisted sort of sense. There's more, too, about how she remembered him being a Caucus, and something about hearing he had trouble at Benden. All kinds of bits and pieces that make very little cohrence. "And she ... called me s-stupid, and insane, and now she ... hates m-me."
D'ven listens intently, and he's somewhat impressed when he finally speaks. "Wow...you really thought things through, huh. Admittedly you have no hard evidence, but you have a lot of things that would certainly make someone want to take a closer look." Aida's words are left uncommented on, though he does wince slightly. "It does sound like you should tell J'cor."
"No ... she said I was insane, and that ... I was colossally stupid for thinking it, and I saw the look on J'cor's face when he saw m-me in the weyr with --" Vanya seems much warmer and a little more coherent, and very determined that she not speak to the Weyrleader. "I know what people are saying about ... about m-me now, D'ven." And she almost reluctantly tells him about the encounter with Jiann, and how it was that, as much as the urging of Aida which finally broke her. And what happened, what J'cor looked like and said the morning E'sere took her and the evidence of Yevide's death to the Weyrleader's office. "So... between the rumors, what I spouted off to Aida, and ... and what J'cor suspects about me, I can't, I /dare/ not say anything. For all I know, they're just waiting to brand me an instigator along with E'sere. Don't you see, D'ven? Aida is Br'ce's weyrmate and I ruined everything. All m-my hopes, all of what I wanted to do ... he's going to hate me, too, just like Aida does, just l-like you probably do." There's a muffled sob, now. "I'd hate me, t-too, and think I'm ... insane."
D'ven sighs softly, silent for a small time. "Shhh." He murmurs finally. "I don't hate you, Vanya. I have to admit, it all does make a horrible kind of sense. And I'm used to being the subject of rumor and suspicion, though never anything as bad as this." Another pause. "I don't think Aida hates you. She was probably just angry. And Br'ce certainly isn't going to hate you. He's a very intelligent man, if he thinks what you're doing is good for the Wing then he'll let you keep doing it."
"But ... you don't understand, D'ven," Vanya whispers, trying to force her body to not tremble, this time for a very different reason. "I'm a healer, and much like Harpers, we're suppose to be ... oh, above all this. We are supposed keep our wits about us, be above reproach in our personal and professional lives. Ask Aida, or ... or Neiran. Healers who are ... sluts and break their oaths are ... they lose their rank, they lose all respect of the Hall and they /never/ get beyond it." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "If word gets out that I'm --" She pauses, licks her lips. "That I'm a drunk, or have low morals, or sleep with my patients, or have lost my mind, they can take it all away from me. Everything. My knot, my position, everything."
"Sleeping with a patient aside, who I'd note you were, if I'm right, sleeping with /before/ he became a patient..." D'ven begins, choosing his words carefully. "You're not a drunk. So you got drunk. People do that, occasionally. You're not a slut either, and your morals seem to be fairly well grounded. As for your mind...well, I understand they have ways of finding that out. I highly doubt they'd do anything based on heresay alone. Not to a Journeyman." He'll just keep quiet on his own experiences.
"You'd like to think that, yes, but it's not like that, D'ven. I don't know how it is for other crafthalls, but Healer Hall doesn't like women to begin with," Vanya says, calmer, all too horribly calm and rationa. "And I'm a woman who dared find a specialty that isn't simply brewing herbs and offering tender loving care while standing back and letting a /man/ do the intricate work. You have to be careful, you can't stand up and say, 'Hey, look at /me/, I'm just as good as your best male Journeyman,' even if you are. Do you know how many female Masters there are in the craft, D'ven? Five. Five out of ... how many /male/ Masters?" She shakes her head. "No, I have to be twice as good and three times as careful. And ... Aida has friends, powerful friends. Here, and ... and who knows where else? She's respected. Liked. I'm new and I've had the audacity to sleep with a man who now stands accused of ... of all kinds of things I don't even know anything about."
D'ven sighs. "He stands accused, with strong and substantial evidence, of a great many unpleasant things. As does Aivey, for that matter." A thoughtful pause. "I think once things have settled down, and calmed down, all of your fears will prove to be groundless." Another pause, before he comments. "You're sounding a lot better. How do you feel?"
"Warmer, less shakey, a little ... fuzzy, but all right," Vanya answers, yawning a little. "I'm not going to suffer any harm, I don't think. Just maybe need to stay where it's warm for a bit." And no, that wasn't a hint to stay in his bed, just a desire to let the last of the cold leave her. "My feet as still a little cold, but the rest of me, well, except for my hair, is dry and warmer." She takes a deep breath. "D'ven, I don't know who this Aivey is. The girl I mentioned to Aida told me her name was Vey. She said she knew E'sere, that he'd taken her to a party, once. She came to me in the infirmary with a cut hand. I treated her, that's all. It was ... oh, shortly after Yevide's death. She was upset about it, wanted to know if I knew anything." And then her brow knits. "She asked me a /lot/ of questions, wouldn't let me touch her hand until I promised to tell her things." Vanya's voice slows a bit. "I remember thinking it was odd, but just chalked it up to ... I don't know, curiosity, since word had got around I held the evidence."
"Well, I'm certainly not forcing you out." D'ven replies with a half smile, before laughing darkly. "Sounds like her, yes. And Aivey did indeed have an injured hand at one point." He then launches into a description of Aivey, quite detailed. "Is that your Vey, Vanya? Because if it is, and I suspect it is, I'm afraid you've been taken for a ride, so to speak."
Vanya nods slowly, a look of dismay slowly coming over her face, a look which is filled with horrifying realization. And hurt. Such a forlorn, deep hurt that she cannot keep her eyes open. Finally, "So ... you're telling me that --" A swallow, as if there's something large and painful caught in her throat. "-- that E'sere is ... was --" There's a tremble in her lower lip. "Was lying to me? That it was all an act?" Oh, there's pain inside her, but she's trying to accept this. There's so much of her that doesn't want to believe him. So much that says /this/ is the pretense, this is the act. "That he poisoned /himself/? -- because no rational man does that unless they /want/ to kill themselves, D'ven. And as logical as you're making this, you weren't there that night. You didn't see the surprise on his face, or watch him nearly die. If I'd shared that meal, I couldn't have saved him. He would have died. So could I have. I can't believe he would take that chance. Not after waiting turns to have a chance to prove himself."
D'ven clearly dosn't like the look on Vanya's face, but he presses on regardless. "When I finally captured Aivey, she was like a wild animal. Caged and angry. Tried to pull a dagger on me, in my weyr, with Teraneth on the ledge. Knowing she had no hope of escape." There's a pause. "Maybe he didn't poison himself. Maybe his pet turned on him, for one reason or another. E'sere is involved in this, Vanya. That is provable fact. And does not prevent the poisoning from also being genuine, and unexpected by him."
"But if he's capable of ... of --" Vanya cannot bear it. "I just can't believe he's guilty of killing a queen, D'ven. I just ... no. I /can't/ believe he did that. And ... I don't know this Aivey. Her ... well, yes, I can accept that because --" Because it wasn't Aivey who comforted her, protected her, shared moments of intimacy that went beyond mere sharing of bodies? Yes, yes, and oh, yes! "-- because she doesn't have a dragon who can act as her conscience. If nothing else, that was something that made me finally doubt what I thought about you. Teraneth. Morelenth -- I don't think they could allow their riders to do horrible things like murder, like killing baby dragons! Maybe they can't prevent you riders from hurting people's feelings, but ... no, D'ven. It couldn't be. Maybe death in self-defense, but not murder."
"I find it very hard to believe it, Vanya." D'ven admits with a sigh. "But...I can. I can believe it. You have to understand that dragons don't have that level of control over their riders. It's the other way around. Though they do change and influence us." There's another sigh. "And maybe he didn't. But that dosn't mean he didn't order it."
"No ... no, it doesn't," Vanya says, voice now very soft, very hollow. "And it doesn't mean ... a lot of other things, either way." Her eyes remain closed for a long time, then open and she shifts a little, looking up at the roof overhead, staring into th e shadows. "It only means that I /am/ colossally stupid," she continues in that same tone, only just a little more ... lost. "That I was a fool." And her eyes close again, and she's very, very still for a long, long time.
D'ven shakes his head, leading her have her still silence for a while before intruding. "No, you weren't, Vanya. Or if you are, then so am I. And a great many people, come to that." There's a pause. "I was quite badly decieved by Aivey."
She doesn't say anything still, just lying there much like she did the night after E'sere was arrested, when Dara came to see her, to make sure she was all right then. She doesn't speak, just seems to lie there suddenly cold again, still as if death had her in its icy grasp. And, in some way, she is dying, only its the slow, agonized death of dreams, of hope that someone had found her worthy of something beyond just awareness. Maybe it's not easy to see in her face, but it's there in the empty stare of her eyes. "Being in good company doesn't make it hurt any less," she whispers at last. Emotionless, empty.
"No, I guess it dosn't." D'ven agrees with a sigh. "But, even though it hurts, don't let it convince you of things about you that simply arn't true." There's a pause. "I really am sorry about all of this, and sorrier still you had to be there when we came for him. But so much of the way you looked at me makes sense, now."
Vanya gives a shuddering sigh, still not moving. "I suppose it does." Still the quiet, almost too calm voice. The tiny tic near the eye nearest him the only movement other than her lips when she speaks. "And what should it convince me of, D'ven? Of my intellect? Of my knowledge of people's aches and pains and how to cure them? I have no doubt of my skills, my learning. Those were never in doubt once I knew people like you, Br'ce, Neiran were hearing what I said." But she says nothing of her worth as a person. Because she cannot.
"It shouldn't convince you of anything in those areas. But, given you were branding yourself colossaly stupid, I worry it might." D'ven reples, shifting slightly to prevent himself getting too comfortable and drifting towards sleep. "And just remember, you won't be the first person, or the last, to fall for good looks and the right words. Happens to people all the time."
"I suppose you're right about that, too," she admits, a faint quirk of her mouth lifting in a wry way so very much like E'sere. "But I wasn't the one who branded me colossally stupid. That was Aida. She was just right to point it out to me so I'd stop thinking so highly of myself." A little deeper irony to that quirk. "She did that the first night I met her, when I spouted off about being the one to help T'zen heal. Smart girl, that Aida. She can spot a counterfeit when she sees one, I'll give her points for that."
D'ven nods. "She is indeed very smart." He agrees fondly. "And maybe you didn't say it, but you claimed you were." He stops then, point made. "Anyway, it's like someone told me recently. Ain't no way we can go but forward, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other."
"Indeed. The only way," Vanya agrees once more. "No argument from me on that score, D'ven." Perhaps all to agreeable. Too tractable. As if she has no will to disagree anymore. Maybe she's been shown too many fact to argue, or maybe she's just tired. Being cold will sometimes do that, as if the thawing out process somehow robs a person of any fight. A shoulder moves, as if in an attempt to shrug, but she seems almost incapable of even that small movement. Then, "I'm all right, D'ven, and it's getting late. I know you have drills in the morning, unless anything's happened to change that. You should get Teraneth to call for the ferry dragon to take me down so you can rest." Still so very little emotion in her words. Just too quite. Too composed.
"I probably should, yes." D'ven agrees with a slow nod. "Or take you down myself. But...you don't seem in a very good state emotionally." He muses. "So, I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with letting you out of my sight just now."
She doesn't say anything to this last. Just lies there for another few moments, then Vanya asks, "What would you have me be? Joyously happy to discover the man I trusted, believed, turned out to be someone else entirely? To find out I was likely nothing more to him then the one thing I asked him not to make of me?" She pauses a second, takes a breath. "To know someone I care about, worried over for hours thinking he was dying lied to me? Lied when I kissed him, watched over while he slept, promised to help make his dreams come true?" Vanya's eyes close for a moment. "To know I've defended a man who planned, or at least knew about, murders, kidnappings, stabbings? Who I told my own hopes and dreams?" Her entire body shudders. "Who taught me to dance, and even ... Faranth, made me feel like someone worthy of being loved, even if I was afraid and scared?"
D'ven sighs deeply. "No, I don't expect you to be anything other than what you are, Vanya." He replies with a shake of his head. "But it dosn't mean I think you being that on your own right now is a good idea." He explains. "And in all honesty...you did what you thought best with the information you had. What you did makes total sense."
"Of course it did," Vanya agrees. "I know how to research an enigma. I've spent turns doing nothing more than following an intangible subject, searching records and talking to people, learning and watching. Observing. Experimenting. So, yes, what I thought was logical." A pause. "Wrong, but logical. Insane, but reasonable." What makes her words almost eerie is the composed, neutral tone of voice. The incredible serenity. She nods again, a little more noticeable this time. The rest of her body remains all too still. "And, I'm all right. I'll /be/ all right. My faith is iffy at the moment. But. I'll. Be. All. Right." Voice tight now, words clipped. "I just need to let you rest and move forward that one step at a time." And, with that, she sits almost bolt upright, swings her legs off the bed and discards the blanket in one movement. Rises and moves toward the entrance in a near dead run. Arms wrapped about herself, eyes staring straight at the entrance, the ledge beyond.
D'ven follows quite quickly, keeping a little behind her. "Calm down, Vanya. Calm. I'll take you home, if that's what you want. You arn't trapped here. Just calm."
As if she realizes she is, indeed, several dragon-lengths above the ground, Vanya checks her steps long before she reaches the outer ledge. Stops just beyond Teraneth, as a matter of fact. Close enough to the ledge that she can feel the wind, the rain still falling, lighter now. Stands there staring out across the darkened bowl with haunted, hurting eyes, lets the cold rain kiss her face, hide the hot tears that fall now. She makes no move to jump or escape, just standing there, holding herself while quiet pain rips into her, moaning softly, not crying in great wracking sobs. That's not her style.
D'ven steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around the girl and drawing her back against him. And there he stands, letting her get as much of it out as Vanya is able to do. "I think..." He murmurs softly. "You need a girly friend. Maybe that's where you should go tonight, if you have one you'd be able to talk to about this?"
And though that would probably be best, Vanya shakes her head, slowly, deliberately. Finally, she manages to say in soft, clear words, "There is no one but Dara, and she has another who needs her comfort." Quiet again. "You were right, I should have left." A pause. "I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I already did that." Letting herself be held, taking what comfort is offered. "What I need is to be so drunk I don't feel the pain. That I don't think, don't feel. That I don't care what people think or believe. That I wake up to find this is all a nightmare." Head leaning back against his chest. "So drunk I don't care what I do or who it's with."
"If you really want to do that...do it somewhere nobody might see you and spread rumors." D'ven suggests softly. "Stay here tonight. If you want me to promise I won't make any moves on you, I will. Personally, I can see the attraction...but I'm afraid everything will be still here when you get back. But everyone does need time away from the world sometimes."
"Promises," Vanya echoes with a chuckle, soft and tainted with bitterness. "I can't ask you to promise me anything, D'ven. Promises are easily made, easily broken."
D'ven nods slowly. "Then, I won't promise you." He replies, seeming to hold a lot of sympathy for her point of view. "And for all I know, you might want me to." He shrugs. "The choice is entirely yours. Just...don't let the need to get away from it all cause you even more problems."
"There will be talk. There's /always/ talk, and my own talk has caused me problems enough," Vanya says, her voice equally slow and soft. "There are those who've told me if I get drunk enough, and take advantage of people in weyrs and back rooms, I'll be very popular, have lots of friends. I don't even know who she was who said that, a girl in the living cavern ... last night? Yes." Vanya sighs. "I have an all to acute sense of what will be waiting for me when I get sober, D'ven. Just let me forget it for a little while. Let me be broken and cry, scream, rant, rage, then tie me to the bed and stuff a rag in my mouth when you get tired of hearing it. Just get me drunk and make me not hurt. Br'ce thinks you'll be good at massage, so do whatever you will with me, just so you make me not hurt. I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here."
D'ven's arms slip down from Vanya, one hand moving to take hers as he starts back inside. "Come back in then, and I will." He murmurs softly. "You can let it all out, and I'll get you drunk and take the pain away. And then we can deal with the morning when it comes."
Vanya nods, turning from the bowl and allows herself to be led back inside, the lack of resistance less a lack than a willingness, now. "There's only one problem with that," she says, her face wet now more from cooling, soothing rain and wind than tears. "When tomorrow gets here, it's always today..."
Players: Vanya, D'ven
Location: Mountain Waterfall, D'ven's Weyr
Synopsis: And the walls of Vanya's carefully constructed reality begin to crumble after her rather traumatic confrontation with Aida the night before. Caught in a storm, stranded in the small cave E'sere showed her, Vanya is rescued by a concerned D'ven who felt it was time they talked. His revelations are enough to begin the breakage he then has to help mend. (Warning: Mention of adult situations, serious psychologial breaking, and also long, but there just wasn't a place to cut it without losing the momentum. Kudos to D'ven for his sterling RP!)
Mountain Waterfall,
Near Dusk
A half-day's brisk-paced hike from the Weyr, this clearing may just be worth the time it takes to get there. Against the backdrop of the purple-grey mountains, this glade nestles a deep plunge pool churned by a waterfall plunging from a river high above. The river is clear and cold; it winds on through the wide meadow and into the woods, flowing swiftly down the mountainside. The plunge pool is deep enough for a dragon to swim in, though the thunder of the falls is loud and keeps the water forever chilly. Partway up the cliff face is situated a small outcropping of rock. The aesthetically minded may simply admire the little jut while the braver may use it as a diving launch. A dark overhang behind the waterfall suggests an alcove or opening, the presence of which is better known by common visitors.
The sky is still dark, but the worst of the storm has moved on, passing over the weyr and beyond, loosening its rage on forest and field, mountain and roadways. Winds have lessened, but the weather is still gloomy and the rain still falls. Sometimes it's heavy, but there are moments when it lessens, allows for some visibility over the meadow and the waterfall. There are no rainbows in the mist, just growing darkness, and a few limbs fallen from the few trees. The grass is beaten down somewhat, and so many of the flowers gone, blown into the pool to gather around the rocks in quieter places. There is promise of more rain to come, likely falling on into the night. Not a glimpse of the setting sun; it lies hidden behind pendulous clouds that hang ominously on every horizon. There is no sign of life in the meadow, save the rain and the falls. Only a pair of what look like water-soaked leather boots on one of the rocks near the edge of the pool. As if someone simply dropped them there, forgot them at some point.
D'ven, having had some spare time and feeling he'd left things long enough since that fateful day in E'sere's weyr, visited the infirmary to track down Vanya. Only to be told she'd gone out riding. When the storm broke, and there was still no sign of her, he wandered down to the stables. The news the healer's runner returned on its own gave him concern, especially given recent events. And so he and Teraneth land near the waterfall, since that's where the stablehand pointed him.
It's quieter in the small cave now the storm has passed. No more rolling thunder to nearly deafen her above and beyond what the waterfall muffled, and Vanya has curled into a ball on the floor, gathering what warmth she can from the blanket. She's eaten most of the food, even ventured close to the falls to catch a handful of water without getting too wet. Her clothes have lost their dampness from her body heat, and save for her feet -- which are bare, cursed luck forgetting her boots! -- she's fairly comfortable in the small enclosure. It would have been so nice if -- But, no, Vanya won't think about that anymore. She's done enough thinking for the day, and she knows what she /must/ do when she returns. Some internal clock tells her it's growing near dark now, and from all indications, she'll be here for the night. Well, the satchel makes a decent enough pillow, and at least she'll be out of the wind and rain. One night here won't kill her. Likely won't even make her sick.
As he wanders around, D'ven's gaze falls on the boots. With a frown, he looks down at them thoughtfully. A multude of theories pass through his head, none of them sitting quite right. "Vanya?" He yells, on the basis that she surely wouldn't have just wandered off without her boots. As he continues to yell, Teraneth bugles loudly to make things easier on his rider.
"Ah, shards, more thunder..." Vanya mutters, sighing as she lays her head down. "Will this storm /never/ end?" But then there's something familiar about the sound, even muffled as it is by the roaring falls. She sits up. Cocks her head toward the entrance. Frowns in concentration. Not thunder. No, something else. Something --! A dragon! That's a dragon bugling. A dragon! Well, thank someone for noticing she was overdue. Or, maybe the runner found his way home? Whatever! Vanya is upright and yelling back, wincing as her voice echoes in the small cave. Then she's grabbing her blanket, stuffing it back into the satchel, yelling again, this time toward the entrance, hoping maybe even if the rider can't hear her, the dragon can. Grabbing for her dress -- and stopping. There's /no/ way she's going out there naked. She's lost a lot of her modesty, but not that much. No, she'll just have to risk getting back in that swirling water with clothes on. Perhaps she can wrap in the blanket during the trip back to the weyr. So, once more she braves the falls, the icy water, shivering, but the dress offers some protection from the cold. It's only once she's through and peering into the near-darkness that she truly freezes when she recognizes the voice. Recognizes the rider. And the dragon. Her elation at being rescued ceases and she literally comes to a halt halfway to shore, caught like one of those proverbial herdbeasts the dragons so love to devour at the identity of her saviour. Eyes wide, and the shiver that runs over her is not just from the cold water and rain now.
"You were behind the..." D'ven shakes his head, not having known about the cave back there. "Huh." There's a pause as he notices the fact Vanya has stopped. "Well, come on out. Is something wrong?"
But Vanya can only stand there, staring, and since the day is darkening and rain is falling -- she can only get so wet, after all! -- it's hard to see her face. But, not so dark and rainy the expression of wariness cannot be missed. She doesn't move, not for a long time, and not until there's numbness beginning to creep up her legs. Then she comes forward, but slowly, reluctantly. Certainly not with the eagerness she showed when first emerging from behind the falls, and certainly not as she's greeted D'ven before. By the time she makes it to shore, the healer's teeth are chattering, and she's shaking with cold. At least, that's a good excuse for the goosebumps on her skin and the paleness of her skin. Hair is plastered to her head, and the dress weighs heavily on her body, clinging and making walking difficult. "D-d'ven..." she stammers, literally quaking with cold. At least, that's she hopes he thinks it is.
D'ven frowns thoughtfully. "You're freezing, Vanya. And yet, you suddenly seemed like you'd prefer to stay in that water." There's a long pause. "I think maybe we need to talk. But first we need to get you back to the Weyr, and into some dry clothes and a blanket." He points out, starting back towards Teraneth.
There's nothing Vanya can do but cling to that satchel she holds close to her chest and stumble forwards, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress. It may well be ruined, but what does that matter? She can't even talk now, she's so cold and shaking. A nod, if it could be called that. Just a movement of her head, eyes never leaving D'ven, wary and slightly unfocused, as if the water, the rain, the chill has leeched all her energy, all her will. The rain-slicked rocks are tricky, and she nearly slips, giving an inarticulate cry as she stumbles forward, heel catching on the hem. Her eyes close and she flings her arm out, finding the solidity of D'ven's arm and clinging to it, despite anything inside her that screams that could be dangerous. He's warm. Wet from the rain, but warm!
D'ven shakes his head as Vanya clings to his arm slightly. "Honestly, whatever made you...well, never mind that. Let's get you in the dry." Arms around her to try and keep her warm, the bronzerider steers her toward Teraneth. Time to head back.
++++Travel Cut++++
Teraneth's Ledge
This massive ledge is oddly shaped, jutting out like a fat stone tongue from the wall. Its surface has been deeply scored by the passage of countless dragons over the turns. While it doesn't receive the sunlight that many of the ledges higher along the wall do, the walls of the bowl do keep the wind from raking over its surface.
Once D'ven and Vanya get inside his weyr, he quickly finds a blanket and offers it to her. "You'll want to get out of those clothes fast, though I'm sure you know that." As he talks he heads towards his bottle rack. "Luckily, I have a bottle of something that will do the job for warming you up. Smooth, but firey. It'll heat you from the inside out."
There's only a moment of hesitation as Vanya watches him head toward that rack of bottles. She has all too clear of a memory of what those bottles hold, but even she knows the value of their contents in a case like this. And, she knows she has to strip off the dress, find something warm, something dry. Her other clothes are in the satchel, the satchel that is dropped as she fumbles to open it with fingers nearly numb from the cold. Thankfully, she was spared the icy, inky blackness of between, though even the short flight back to D'ven's weyr was enough to make her nearly lose feeling in her feet. "Th-th-ank y-ou..." is stuttered, and she stumbles again as she reaches for the leather bag on the floor.
"You're welcome. Here, let me do that." He replies, opening the bottle and holding it out to her as he attempts to pick the bag up and open it for her. "You medicate yourself, and I'll get whatever you want from here. You're in no fit state, and you shouldn't be standing."
It's not really easy for her to grasp that bottle. It takes all Vanya's effort to keep it from slipping out of both her hands. She lifts it, takes a mouthful, swallows. And coughs, barely managing to turn her head to keep from covering D'ven with the mouthful of spirits she tried to drink. Wracking coughs that seem to go on for a time before she manages to recover. Some of it stayed down, and it burns all the way from her mouth to her stomach where it sits like liquid fire. Her eyes are wide and she can't quite take a breath without shaking. But it's warm! "C-cl ..." She tries again, gasping for another breath. "C-clo ... thes ..." she finally manages on the third try. And then Vanya swallows and breathes. And then takes a smaller bit from the bottle, coughing again, but now at least her throat is a bit number and it stays down.
D'ven makes a sound of understanding. "Clothes." He echoes, finding them, placing them at the edge of his bed, then shutting the back and placing it beside them. "There you are." He murmurs, watching approvingly as she manages to drink some of the spirits.
The other dress is damp, as is the blanket inside the bag, but far less than what she's wearing. Vanya thrusts the bottle to him, taking careful steps to the bed, since the floor is unsteady again -- only this time she knows why and is slow. At the bed, she stops and fumbles now with lacings and belts and whatnot, fingers chilled and maybe a little confused. Vanya whimpers in frustration as the knots don't want to cooperate, no longer caring if anyone hears her cursing, using language no hold-bred lady should know. Finally, she manages to get everything loosened and strips. No time or caring for modesty now, just wanting something dry, something warmer than the wet things she now wears.
D'ven takes the bottle and holds onto it, smiling slightly at the language that comes out of Vanya's mouth. Once she's changed the bronzerider approaches and drapes the blanket over her shoulders if allowed, before offering the bottle again. "Want anymore of this?"
Her sodden dress is kicked away and oh, yes, Vanya accepts the damp blanket. Indeed, Vanya accepts anything from D'ven that will make her warm, the blanket, the bottle, his body, /anything/. Without question. Without any sign of wariness. She takes the bottle from him, hands shaking less now, but she's far from being comfortable. She's healer enough to know her body is far too lethargic and unresponsive to be in a healthy state. And her feet are like blocks of ice. The blanket is drawn up over her head. "F-feet ... c-cold ..." She says, taking another drink, this time swallowing slower, letting the alcohol slide down, warming her as it does. Bottle handed back. "N-no more ... ca-can't g-get s-sleepy ... stay aw-aw-awake. Must ... awake." Vanya looks up at the rider, and there's a slightly unfocused look in her eyes. "Keep m-me awake... till I'm ... w-warmer..."
"Keep you awake, huh?" D'ven murmurs, putting the bottle away. Then he returns to her side. "Come on, why don't we climb into bed and cuddle? I promise I won't take advantadge of you unless you ask me to, but it's going to be the easiest way to warm you up. As for keeping you awake...we can talk?"
Vanya isn't going to argue. It makes sense, and body heat is a way to warm up. She'd shared a bed with her parents for that very reason when she was a child. And, her memories of /this/ very bed are shoved aside for the very practical purpose it will now serve. She nods to both, standing up, then very awkwardly climbs into the bed, sinking into the softness of the mattress without hesitation. "Y-yes... talk ..." Vanya agrees. At this point, her body is growing far too used to the cold-warm sensations it's feeling, and even the fear she felt at seeing him is dulled by practicality.
Slipping into bed beside her, D'ven puts his arms around her and snuggles close in an attempt to warm her up. "So, talk." He muses thoughtfully. "Maybe you can tell me now what it is that made you so unwilling to come out of the water when you saw me?"
There's no unwillingness now. Not even a moment's hesitation, and even through his clothes, he can feel how cold her feet are. "W-was afraid y-you were angry w-with me," Vanya says, teeth still chattering a bit. "Y-you saw m-me when ... in ... when y-you came t-to ... " She really doesn't need to finish, and tries again. "Was afraid ... I got in ... in your way ... stopped E'ssssere from d-dying." It takes a bit for her to get it all out. The talk he gave her, how she tried to warn E'sere, but he was poisoned. How she was afraid he and Vey were working together. And then how he wouldn't look at her when he saw her in E'sere's weyr. It comes out slowly. Even her thoughts that he'd set her up, too, because she wouldn't listen to him and leave. Each word is almost painfully pulled from Vanya, reluctantly.
There's a long silence at the end, and then D'ven finally laughs. There's no humor in it, though. "So, you think I did it?" He summarises, in a slightly suprised tone. "You think it's me, who was behind all this? And thus I'm angry with you, because you've thwarted my evil plans?" He dosn't seem to know quite what to say to that.
"Was...n't going to s-say anything to anyone," Vanya says, head buried against D'ven's chest, huddled there like some small, terrified child, trying not to shiver. She's gradually warming up, body absorbing warmth from the rider slowly. "I don't th-think they would believe me and ... and I was afraid ... didn't want to think it was y-you. I don't know what to th-think anym-more. It was ... you were so ... didn't t-tell me anything but ... to l-leave and to stay out of your w-way." Vanya's voice is small and soft, almost fading out at several points as she begins to drift on sensations of warmth and alcohol.
D'ven shakes his head slowly. "Of course I was distracted, and rambly, and vague. I was hardly sleeping, drinking too much, and about to bring charges against the man I always believed was going to be our solution to all these problems. For causing them." He sighs. "Vanya, I assure you, if I was going to kill someone I'd do it with a knife. Like a man. And I'd more than likely want them to be armed as well, and aware I was trying to kill them." A pause. "But, if you truly believe this, and think it's worth it being investigated, you must tell the Weyrleader."
"C-can't," Vanya says, moving her head from side to side in vehement denial. "No one w-will believe me, n-not now," she adds, perfect misery in her tone and expression. "J-j'cor ... you left b-before he ... he made me get another healer to take c-care of E'sere because he ... D-dara said it was b-because he and I are ... I'm too ... involved. And ... n-now ... Oh, I can't," she moans and buries her head harder against D'ven's chest, hurt and cold and the picture of someone torn in too many directions. "It can't be y-you, either. I don't want to believe it. I don't want to!"
"I promise you it isn't." D'ven replies, before shaking his head. "You must, Vanya. If only for your own peace of mind. I will back your request to speak to J'cor, and recommend he has one of the queens question Teraneth. Not even bronzes can lie to a queen."
Again with the head shaking. "I ... I ... Aida," Vanya finally manages to get out. "I ... she ... she said I needed to talk b-before I exploded ..." Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, her hands balled into fists, her entire body reflexively wanting to form itself into a tiny, fetal shape that could disappear. "I didn't want to, and tried to not say who I felt it was. I ... tried to be vague, like you were, but she kept saying if I knew who'd threatened her that I n-needed to tell her. I ... I knew she was your f-friend, and ... and ..." The rest is lost in a strangled, inarticulate string of words that make very little sense. There's mention of rumors about why he went to fort, about E'sere being poisoned with aconite, a derivative of the anodyne plant that grows around Fort, and about distilling herbs being nearly the same as what he knows as a brewer. How it all made a twisted sort of sense. There's more, too, about how she remembered him being a Caucus, and something about hearing he had trouble at Benden. All kinds of bits and pieces that make very little cohrence. "And she ... called me s-stupid, and insane, and now she ... hates m-me."
D'ven listens intently, and he's somewhat impressed when he finally speaks. "Wow...you really thought things through, huh. Admittedly you have no hard evidence, but you have a lot of things that would certainly make someone want to take a closer look." Aida's words are left uncommented on, though he does wince slightly. "It does sound like you should tell J'cor."
"No ... she said I was insane, and that ... I was colossally stupid for thinking it, and I saw the look on J'cor's face when he saw m-me in the weyr with --" Vanya seems much warmer and a little more coherent, and very determined that she not speak to the Weyrleader. "I know what people are saying about ... about m-me now, D'ven." And she almost reluctantly tells him about the encounter with Jiann, and how it was that, as much as the urging of Aida which finally broke her. And what happened, what J'cor looked like and said the morning E'sere took her and the evidence of Yevide's death to the Weyrleader's office. "So... between the rumors, what I spouted off to Aida, and ... and what J'cor suspects about me, I can't, I /dare/ not say anything. For all I know, they're just waiting to brand me an instigator along with E'sere. Don't you see, D'ven? Aida is Br'ce's weyrmate and I ruined everything. All m-my hopes, all of what I wanted to do ... he's going to hate me, too, just like Aida does, just l-like you probably do." There's a muffled sob, now. "I'd hate me, t-too, and think I'm ... insane."
D'ven sighs softly, silent for a small time. "Shhh." He murmurs finally. "I don't hate you, Vanya. I have to admit, it all does make a horrible kind of sense. And I'm used to being the subject of rumor and suspicion, though never anything as bad as this." Another pause. "I don't think Aida hates you. She was probably just angry. And Br'ce certainly isn't going to hate you. He's a very intelligent man, if he thinks what you're doing is good for the Wing then he'll let you keep doing it."
"But ... you don't understand, D'ven," Vanya whispers, trying to force her body to not tremble, this time for a very different reason. "I'm a healer, and much like Harpers, we're suppose to be ... oh, above all this. We are supposed keep our wits about us, be above reproach in our personal and professional lives. Ask Aida, or ... or Neiran. Healers who are ... sluts and break their oaths are ... they lose their rank, they lose all respect of the Hall and they /never/ get beyond it." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "If word gets out that I'm --" She pauses, licks her lips. "That I'm a drunk, or have low morals, or sleep with my patients, or have lost my mind, they can take it all away from me. Everything. My knot, my position, everything."
"Sleeping with a patient aside, who I'd note you were, if I'm right, sleeping with /before/ he became a patient..." D'ven begins, choosing his words carefully. "You're not a drunk. So you got drunk. People do that, occasionally. You're not a slut either, and your morals seem to be fairly well grounded. As for your mind...well, I understand they have ways of finding that out. I highly doubt they'd do anything based on heresay alone. Not to a Journeyman." He'll just keep quiet on his own experiences.
"You'd like to think that, yes, but it's not like that, D'ven. I don't know how it is for other crafthalls, but Healer Hall doesn't like women to begin with," Vanya says, calmer, all too horribly calm and rationa. "And I'm a woman who dared find a specialty that isn't simply brewing herbs and offering tender loving care while standing back and letting a /man/ do the intricate work. You have to be careful, you can't stand up and say, 'Hey, look at /me/, I'm just as good as your best male Journeyman,' even if you are. Do you know how many female Masters there are in the craft, D'ven? Five. Five out of ... how many /male/ Masters?" She shakes her head. "No, I have to be twice as good and three times as careful. And ... Aida has friends, powerful friends. Here, and ... and who knows where else? She's respected. Liked. I'm new and I've had the audacity to sleep with a man who now stands accused of ... of all kinds of things I don't even know anything about."
D'ven sighs. "He stands accused, with strong and substantial evidence, of a great many unpleasant things. As does Aivey, for that matter." A thoughtful pause. "I think once things have settled down, and calmed down, all of your fears will prove to be groundless." Another pause, before he comments. "You're sounding a lot better. How do you feel?"
"Warmer, less shakey, a little ... fuzzy, but all right," Vanya answers, yawning a little. "I'm not going to suffer any harm, I don't think. Just maybe need to stay where it's warm for a bit." And no, that wasn't a hint to stay in his bed, just a desire to let the last of the cold leave her. "My feet as still a little cold, but the rest of me, well, except for my hair, is dry and warmer." She takes a deep breath. "D'ven, I don't know who this Aivey is. The girl I mentioned to Aida told me her name was Vey. She said she knew E'sere, that he'd taken her to a party, once. She came to me in the infirmary with a cut hand. I treated her, that's all. It was ... oh, shortly after Yevide's death. She was upset about it, wanted to know if I knew anything." And then her brow knits. "She asked me a /lot/ of questions, wouldn't let me touch her hand until I promised to tell her things." Vanya's voice slows a bit. "I remember thinking it was odd, but just chalked it up to ... I don't know, curiosity, since word had got around I held the evidence."
"Well, I'm certainly not forcing you out." D'ven replies with a half smile, before laughing darkly. "Sounds like her, yes. And Aivey did indeed have an injured hand at one point." He then launches into a description of Aivey, quite detailed. "Is that your Vey, Vanya? Because if it is, and I suspect it is, I'm afraid you've been taken for a ride, so to speak."
Vanya nods slowly, a look of dismay slowly coming over her face, a look which is filled with horrifying realization. And hurt. Such a forlorn, deep hurt that she cannot keep her eyes open. Finally, "So ... you're telling me that --" A swallow, as if there's something large and painful caught in her throat. "-- that E'sere is ... was --" There's a tremble in her lower lip. "Was lying to me? That it was all an act?" Oh, there's pain inside her, but she's trying to accept this. There's so much of her that doesn't want to believe him. So much that says /this/ is the pretense, this is the act. "That he poisoned /himself/? -- because no rational man does that unless they /want/ to kill themselves, D'ven. And as logical as you're making this, you weren't there that night. You didn't see the surprise on his face, or watch him nearly die. If I'd shared that meal, I couldn't have saved him. He would have died. So could I have. I can't believe he would take that chance. Not after waiting turns to have a chance to prove himself."
D'ven clearly dosn't like the look on Vanya's face, but he presses on regardless. "When I finally captured Aivey, she was like a wild animal. Caged and angry. Tried to pull a dagger on me, in my weyr, with Teraneth on the ledge. Knowing she had no hope of escape." There's a pause. "Maybe he didn't poison himself. Maybe his pet turned on him, for one reason or another. E'sere is involved in this, Vanya. That is provable fact. And does not prevent the poisoning from also being genuine, and unexpected by him."
"But if he's capable of ... of --" Vanya cannot bear it. "I just can't believe he's guilty of killing a queen, D'ven. I just ... no. I /can't/ believe he did that. And ... I don't know this Aivey. Her ... well, yes, I can accept that because --" Because it wasn't Aivey who comforted her, protected her, shared moments of intimacy that went beyond mere sharing of bodies? Yes, yes, and oh, yes! "-- because she doesn't have a dragon who can act as her conscience. If nothing else, that was something that made me finally doubt what I thought about you. Teraneth. Morelenth -- I don't think they could allow their riders to do horrible things like murder, like killing baby dragons! Maybe they can't prevent you riders from hurting people's feelings, but ... no, D'ven. It couldn't be. Maybe death in self-defense, but not murder."
"I find it very hard to believe it, Vanya." D'ven admits with a sigh. "But...I can. I can believe it. You have to understand that dragons don't have that level of control over their riders. It's the other way around. Though they do change and influence us." There's another sigh. "And maybe he didn't. But that dosn't mean he didn't order it."
"No ... no, it doesn't," Vanya says, voice now very soft, very hollow. "And it doesn't mean ... a lot of other things, either way." Her eyes remain closed for a long time, then open and she shifts a little, looking up at the roof overhead, staring into th e shadows. "It only means that I /am/ colossally stupid," she continues in that same tone, only just a little more ... lost. "That I was a fool." And her eyes close again, and she's very, very still for a long, long time.
D'ven shakes his head, leading her have her still silence for a while before intruding. "No, you weren't, Vanya. Or if you are, then so am I. And a great many people, come to that." There's a pause. "I was quite badly decieved by Aivey."
She doesn't say anything still, just lying there much like she did the night after E'sere was arrested, when Dara came to see her, to make sure she was all right then. She doesn't speak, just seems to lie there suddenly cold again, still as if death had her in its icy grasp. And, in some way, she is dying, only its the slow, agonized death of dreams, of hope that someone had found her worthy of something beyond just awareness. Maybe it's not easy to see in her face, but it's there in the empty stare of her eyes. "Being in good company doesn't make it hurt any less," she whispers at last. Emotionless, empty.
"No, I guess it dosn't." D'ven agrees with a sigh. "But, even though it hurts, don't let it convince you of things about you that simply arn't true." There's a pause. "I really am sorry about all of this, and sorrier still you had to be there when we came for him. But so much of the way you looked at me makes sense, now."
Vanya gives a shuddering sigh, still not moving. "I suppose it does." Still the quiet, almost too calm voice. The tiny tic near the eye nearest him the only movement other than her lips when she speaks. "And what should it convince me of, D'ven? Of my intellect? Of my knowledge of people's aches and pains and how to cure them? I have no doubt of my skills, my learning. Those were never in doubt once I knew people like you, Br'ce, Neiran were hearing what I said." But she says nothing of her worth as a person. Because she cannot.
"It shouldn't convince you of anything in those areas. But, given you were branding yourself colossaly stupid, I worry it might." D'ven reples, shifting slightly to prevent himself getting too comfortable and drifting towards sleep. "And just remember, you won't be the first person, or the last, to fall for good looks and the right words. Happens to people all the time."
"I suppose you're right about that, too," she admits, a faint quirk of her mouth lifting in a wry way so very much like E'sere. "But I wasn't the one who branded me colossally stupid. That was Aida. She was just right to point it out to me so I'd stop thinking so highly of myself." A little deeper irony to that quirk. "She did that the first night I met her, when I spouted off about being the one to help T'zen heal. Smart girl, that Aida. She can spot a counterfeit when she sees one, I'll give her points for that."
D'ven nods. "She is indeed very smart." He agrees fondly. "And maybe you didn't say it, but you claimed you were." He stops then, point made. "Anyway, it's like someone told me recently. Ain't no way we can go but forward, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other."
"Indeed. The only way," Vanya agrees once more. "No argument from me on that score, D'ven." Perhaps all to agreeable. Too tractable. As if she has no will to disagree anymore. Maybe she's been shown too many fact to argue, or maybe she's just tired. Being cold will sometimes do that, as if the thawing out process somehow robs a person of any fight. A shoulder moves, as if in an attempt to shrug, but she seems almost incapable of even that small movement. Then, "I'm all right, D'ven, and it's getting late. I know you have drills in the morning, unless anything's happened to change that. You should get Teraneth to call for the ferry dragon to take me down so you can rest." Still so very little emotion in her words. Just too quite. Too composed.
"I probably should, yes." D'ven agrees with a slow nod. "Or take you down myself. But...you don't seem in a very good state emotionally." He muses. "So, I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with letting you out of my sight just now."
She doesn't say anything to this last. Just lies there for another few moments, then Vanya asks, "What would you have me be? Joyously happy to discover the man I trusted, believed, turned out to be someone else entirely? To find out I was likely nothing more to him then the one thing I asked him not to make of me?" She pauses a second, takes a breath. "To know someone I care about, worried over for hours thinking he was dying lied to me? Lied when I kissed him, watched over while he slept, promised to help make his dreams come true?" Vanya's eyes close for a moment. "To know I've defended a man who planned, or at least knew about, murders, kidnappings, stabbings? Who I told my own hopes and dreams?" Her entire body shudders. "Who taught me to dance, and even ... Faranth, made me feel like someone worthy of being loved, even if I was afraid and scared?"
D'ven sighs deeply. "No, I don't expect you to be anything other than what you are, Vanya." He replies with a shake of his head. "But it dosn't mean I think you being that on your own right now is a good idea." He explains. "And in all honesty...you did what you thought best with the information you had. What you did makes total sense."
"Of course it did," Vanya agrees. "I know how to research an enigma. I've spent turns doing nothing more than following an intangible subject, searching records and talking to people, learning and watching. Observing. Experimenting. So, yes, what I thought was logical." A pause. "Wrong, but logical. Insane, but reasonable." What makes her words almost eerie is the composed, neutral tone of voice. The incredible serenity. She nods again, a little more noticeable this time. The rest of her body remains all too still. "And, I'm all right. I'll /be/ all right. My faith is iffy at the moment. But. I'll. Be. All. Right." Voice tight now, words clipped. "I just need to let you rest and move forward that one step at a time." And, with that, she sits almost bolt upright, swings her legs off the bed and discards the blanket in one movement. Rises and moves toward the entrance in a near dead run. Arms wrapped about herself, eyes staring straight at the entrance, the ledge beyond.
D'ven follows quite quickly, keeping a little behind her. "Calm down, Vanya. Calm. I'll take you home, if that's what you want. You arn't trapped here. Just calm."
As if she realizes she is, indeed, several dragon-lengths above the ground, Vanya checks her steps long before she reaches the outer ledge. Stops just beyond Teraneth, as a matter of fact. Close enough to the ledge that she can feel the wind, the rain still falling, lighter now. Stands there staring out across the darkened bowl with haunted, hurting eyes, lets the cold rain kiss her face, hide the hot tears that fall now. She makes no move to jump or escape, just standing there, holding herself while quiet pain rips into her, moaning softly, not crying in great wracking sobs. That's not her style.
D'ven steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around the girl and drawing her back against him. And there he stands, letting her get as much of it out as Vanya is able to do. "I think..." He murmurs softly. "You need a girly friend. Maybe that's where you should go tonight, if you have one you'd be able to talk to about this?"
And though that would probably be best, Vanya shakes her head, slowly, deliberately. Finally, she manages to say in soft, clear words, "There is no one but Dara, and she has another who needs her comfort." Quiet again. "You were right, I should have left." A pause. "I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I already did that." Letting herself be held, taking what comfort is offered. "What I need is to be so drunk I don't feel the pain. That I don't think, don't feel. That I don't care what people think or believe. That I wake up to find this is all a nightmare." Head leaning back against his chest. "So drunk I don't care what I do or who it's with."
"If you really want to do that...do it somewhere nobody might see you and spread rumors." D'ven suggests softly. "Stay here tonight. If you want me to promise I won't make any moves on you, I will. Personally, I can see the attraction...but I'm afraid everything will be still here when you get back. But everyone does need time away from the world sometimes."
"Promises," Vanya echoes with a chuckle, soft and tainted with bitterness. "I can't ask you to promise me anything, D'ven. Promises are easily made, easily broken."
D'ven nods slowly. "Then, I won't promise you." He replies, seeming to hold a lot of sympathy for her point of view. "And for all I know, you might want me to." He shrugs. "The choice is entirely yours. Just...don't let the need to get away from it all cause you even more problems."
"There will be talk. There's /always/ talk, and my own talk has caused me problems enough," Vanya says, her voice equally slow and soft. "There are those who've told me if I get drunk enough, and take advantage of people in weyrs and back rooms, I'll be very popular, have lots of friends. I don't even know who she was who said that, a girl in the living cavern ... last night? Yes." Vanya sighs. "I have an all to acute sense of what will be waiting for me when I get sober, D'ven. Just let me forget it for a little while. Let me be broken and cry, scream, rant, rage, then tie me to the bed and stuff a rag in my mouth when you get tired of hearing it. Just get me drunk and make me not hurt. Br'ce thinks you'll be good at massage, so do whatever you will with me, just so you make me not hurt. I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here."
D'ven's arms slip down from Vanya, one hand moving to take hers as he starts back inside. "Come back in then, and I will." He murmurs softly. "You can let it all out, and I'll get you drunk and take the pain away. And then we can deal with the morning when it comes."
Vanya nods, turning from the bowl and allows herself to be led back inside, the lack of resistance less a lack than a willingness, now. "There's only one problem with that," she says, her face wet now more from cooling, soothing rain and wind than tears. "When tomorrow gets here, it's always today..."