Not Any Time Soon
IC Date: Day 13, Month 8, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Vanya
Location: Lakeshore
Synopsis: Upon returning from the Gather, Vanya debates with herself about unanswered questions, and whether or not she wants to know the answers.
Southern Bowl,
Near Sundown
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
Here the lake dominates the bowl floor, wind-scattered waves lapping at the gravel shore. A few scrawny shrubs to the southeast mark the fenced-in enclosure of the feeding grounds, bordered on its southwestern edge by the lake itself. Following the wall here will lead to the entrance to the weyrling complex and, past that, the stairs that lead to the guest weyr. On the other side of the lake is a vast, yawning tunnel curving upwards slightly, connecting to the long road leading away from High Reaches Weyr. Adjoining the exit is the high arch of the infirmary entrance.
There is often disappointment in seeing something you remember as a child, and seeing the same thing as an adult. Vanya walks toward the lake, taking her time and debating whether or not to take E'sere the gifts she bought for him at the Gather. Whether she /should/ take him the books and the chess set she found for him. Reflecting a little, thinking too much.
//So that's a gather. Funny, I remember it so differently. Well, of course, silly. Your father was alive then, and you spent most of your time with him that time.//
This time Vanya went on her own, save for the short time with Miniyal at the bookseller's booth. That was kind of her, to offer suggestions of what E'sere might enjoy reading. And the chess set was nice enough, though likely far less expensive than his tastes ran. But it was hand-made, the board and pieces carved from light and dark wood, polished to a dull gleam in the afternoon sun. With just a touch of knotword around the edge stained darker as decoration. Nice enough for the very reasonable price.
//I don't even know if he plays chess. Likely he does; he seems the type who enjoys games. Like Uncle. Always watching for the right moment to make an advantageous move. Ah, gotta love politics.//
Catching a ride back to the weyr with L'pin on his blue was fortunate, otherwise it would take hours to get home. There was still a little daylight left, and Vanya's eyes scanned the walls surrounding the bowl. She didn't need to search hard for E'sere's weyr; she knew which one it was. Morelenth wasn't on the ledge, but even as she watched, a blue dragon landed on the ledge. One passenger dismounted.
//At least he gets visitors. Nice to know people remember him, especially when he stands a good chance of losing this case. Of being found guilty, likely facing exile. Will I want to go with him? Do I love him that much?//
And so Vanya stands there watching E'sere's weyr, and she's of two minds, now. So many people believe the wingleader -- former wingleader! -- guilty. Why does she cling to the hope he's innocent? She loves him, but is that enough if he's the one behind all the deaths, the threats, Aida's kidnapping? If E'sere's the one who aimed Aivey's knife at people like T'zen, Yevide, or any of a dozen other crimes rumor has him committing. So many questions. So many lies if he's really guilty.
//Are Aida, Dara and K'rom right about him? Or is E'sere a convenient target for whatever reason? Are they simply jealous? Are there political reasons to want rid of him? Is he in someone's way? Maybe not D'ven's, but someone else? J'cor, whose bronze doesn't seem to be healing properly? One of the Weyrwomen? Ganathon, who E'sere warned me about? R'vain? Who?//
Too many unanswered questions, and Vanya caught somewhere in the midst of this mess. Apparently not a target, just forced to watch from the sidelines. Just a healer with the bad luck to get involved with the wrong man at the wrong time. Or, is he the right man, and it's just bad timing? Is he just a good actor playing a convincing role, and she's the one who has to figure out who's playing what part? And for what reason?
//I can sit back and watch. I've done that most of my life. Standing on the outside looking in, watching, waiting. Pretending none of it hurts. I'm an expert at that. Nobody does it better. I'll know if he feels the same as I do when it's all over. If he does, well ... I'll know when it's over.//
The blue dragon lands in the bowl, not far from Vanya, two men on his back. One is the older gentleman she met in the hallway, the dragonless Ganathon. Once a very powerful man. Still a powerful man, according to many. Vanya wondered if the former weyrleader knew the answers. She was tempted to ask.
//No, I can wait. Waiting is better than knowing. Right now, ignorance is bliss. It'll hurt too much to know the truth.//
And so Vanya moved across to the blue dragon, asking the rider to take her up to E'sere's weyr, the wrapped gifts clutched in her hands. Would she mind waiting until after he'd eaten dinner? Of course she could, and thanked him for considering her request. She'd just wait over there while he ate. No, no, she wasn't hungry.
//I'm in no hurry. After all, neither E'sere or I are going anywhere. Not any time soon.//
Players: Vanya
Location: Lakeshore
Synopsis: Upon returning from the Gather, Vanya debates with herself about unanswered questions, and whether or not she wants to know the answers.
Southern Bowl,
Near Sundown
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
Here the lake dominates the bowl floor, wind-scattered waves lapping at the gravel shore. A few scrawny shrubs to the southeast mark the fenced-in enclosure of the feeding grounds, bordered on its southwestern edge by the lake itself. Following the wall here will lead to the entrance to the weyrling complex and, past that, the stairs that lead to the guest weyr. On the other side of the lake is a vast, yawning tunnel curving upwards slightly, connecting to the long road leading away from High Reaches Weyr. Adjoining the exit is the high arch of the infirmary entrance.
There is often disappointment in seeing something you remember as a child, and seeing the same thing as an adult. Vanya walks toward the lake, taking her time and debating whether or not to take E'sere the gifts she bought for him at the Gather. Whether she /should/ take him the books and the chess set she found for him. Reflecting a little, thinking too much.
//So that's a gather. Funny, I remember it so differently. Well, of course, silly. Your father was alive then, and you spent most of your time with him that time.//
This time Vanya went on her own, save for the short time with Miniyal at the bookseller's booth. That was kind of her, to offer suggestions of what E'sere might enjoy reading. And the chess set was nice enough, though likely far less expensive than his tastes ran. But it was hand-made, the board and pieces carved from light and dark wood, polished to a dull gleam in the afternoon sun. With just a touch of knotword around the edge stained darker as decoration. Nice enough for the very reasonable price.
//I don't even know if he plays chess. Likely he does; he seems the type who enjoys games. Like Uncle. Always watching for the right moment to make an advantageous move. Ah, gotta love politics.//
Catching a ride back to the weyr with L'pin on his blue was fortunate, otherwise it would take hours to get home. There was still a little daylight left, and Vanya's eyes scanned the walls surrounding the bowl. She didn't need to search hard for E'sere's weyr; she knew which one it was. Morelenth wasn't on the ledge, but even as she watched, a blue dragon landed on the ledge. One passenger dismounted.
//At least he gets visitors. Nice to know people remember him, especially when he stands a good chance of losing this case. Of being found guilty, likely facing exile. Will I want to go with him? Do I love him that much?//
And so Vanya stands there watching E'sere's weyr, and she's of two minds, now. So many people believe the wingleader -- former wingleader! -- guilty. Why does she cling to the hope he's innocent? She loves him, but is that enough if he's the one behind all the deaths, the threats, Aida's kidnapping? If E'sere's the one who aimed Aivey's knife at people like T'zen, Yevide, or any of a dozen other crimes rumor has him committing. So many questions. So many lies if he's really guilty.
//Are Aida, Dara and K'rom right about him? Or is E'sere a convenient target for whatever reason? Are they simply jealous? Are there political reasons to want rid of him? Is he in someone's way? Maybe not D'ven's, but someone else? J'cor, whose bronze doesn't seem to be healing properly? One of the Weyrwomen? Ganathon, who E'sere warned me about? R'vain? Who?//
Too many unanswered questions, and Vanya caught somewhere in the midst of this mess. Apparently not a target, just forced to watch from the sidelines. Just a healer with the bad luck to get involved with the wrong man at the wrong time. Or, is he the right man, and it's just bad timing? Is he just a good actor playing a convincing role, and she's the one who has to figure out who's playing what part? And for what reason?
//I can sit back and watch. I've done that most of my life. Standing on the outside looking in, watching, waiting. Pretending none of it hurts. I'm an expert at that. Nobody does it better. I'll know if he feels the same as I do when it's all over. If he does, well ... I'll know when it's over.//
The blue dragon lands in the bowl, not far from Vanya, two men on his back. One is the older gentleman she met in the hallway, the dragonless Ganathon. Once a very powerful man. Still a powerful man, according to many. Vanya wondered if the former weyrleader knew the answers. She was tempted to ask.
//No, I can wait. Waiting is better than knowing. Right now, ignorance is bliss. It'll hurt too much to know the truth.//
And so Vanya moved across to the blue dragon, asking the rider to take her up to E'sere's weyr, the wrapped gifts clutched in her hands. Would she mind waiting until after he'd eaten dinner? Of course she could, and thanked him for considering her request. She'd just wait over there while he ate. No, no, she wasn't hungry.
//I'm in no hurry. After all, neither E'sere or I are going anywhere. Not any time soon.//