Midnight Confessions
IC Date: Day 18, Month 6, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Vanya, Essdara
Location: Vanya's Room
Synopsis: Catharsis. After the emotional roller coaster that's been her day, Vanya has a bit of a meltdown, dragging Dara right along with her. Angst, thy name is Vanya.
Vanya's Room,
Near Midnight
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, a basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sitting on the floor beneath.
With T'ral gone, the bath winds down quickly; clean and approaching waterlogged, the two women make their exit from the pool and dress. As they exit the caverns, Dara falls into step with Vanya, walking with her in companionable silence back to her room. Once there, the door closed behind them, and Dara takes a few steps into the room with a wistful look around. "One thing I envy you for, Vanya, is a private room. Never had an ounce of space to call my own in my life, and there have been times I have sorely felt that lack."
"When you are head cook, you will have a place of your own, Dara, I'm sure," Vanya says, depositing her basket on the table, her hair wrapped turban-style in a purloined towel. She's a little subdued, but not morose. Just ... quiet. "Now, shall we dry your hair and see what the conditioner has done for it?" she suggests, leaving her own hair wrapped. "A place to call your own doesn't necessarily have to be physical. You can have a place inside yourself where you are always private, someplace of your very own that no one can ever take from you." She goes over to the chest, rumages for a moment, pulling out a comb, brush and the promised ribbons.
Essdara watches her. She, too, has a quiet air to her, a very neutral presence in the room. "Sure... Where do you want me to sit, that works best?" Is her query. "And I do try to have such a place, but it's not the same. Especially on those nights where you just... Don't want to be around people." A shrug. "I admit, though, I'm easilly effected by such things. Some nights, just sleep in the bowl, or the stores, or the hatching galleries... Not comfortable, but at least alone."
Vanya can certainly understand that. "Dara, when I have night shifts, you're welcome to sleep in here," she offers. "I, of all people, understand that need for aloneness when I sleep. I don't want you to ever think I'd mind. If you like, you can come down here and sleep even when I am here. The bed's too small for two, but we can make you a comfortable pallet, or snitch a mattress from stores and hide it under the bed." She's very sincere. "The chair is fine, dear. Just relax, and chalk up my quietness to ... to drinking earlier." A good enough excuse, and one that doesn't reveal that the fact D'ven has a girlfriend affected her far more than she expected. Or likes. He could have told her, after all. Instead, he -- It's there on her face, if someone knows to look. "Learning to play dragon poker will be fun, I think. It would be nice to surprise D'ven." And there's just a little coolness in her tone. "I hope the 'fall goes well tomorrow. I don't want to see them hurt. None of them."
Essdara is neither blind, nor a stranger to the effects such news can have. She watches her friend for a moment, a sad smile on her face. "He must be a very nice person, to have effected you so." She says, simply. Turning away, she moves to sit in the chair. "You... Will learn to live with Fall. Most people do." Gaze stays stright ahead. "It's... A very lovely offer, Vanya, but alas not one I can accept. You don't need the rumors that would bring - bad enough we are the friends we are." Another quiet pause. "I'm sure he didn't..." She starts to say, but bites it off, leaving whatever the full thought was unsaid.
Vanya also knows Dara is no silly girl who can be put off with pretty words. "It shouldn't have," she says, voice soft. "After all, I can't say he ever made any ... overtures that he'd like to see me other than as a friend. He's a tease, yes, and fun, but there was nothing else, believe me." She sighs softly. "I told you, I am not the kind of woman a man comes courting, Dara. And, yes, I suppose I will, but a healer must always be prepared for the worst, and pleasantly surprised by the best. It's our duty to worry for them, and we will, whether or not we learn to live with Thread or not. I've treated threadscore at the hall. It happens to everyone not just riders. They just take the brunt of the injuries." She begins to comb through the amazingly untangled hair. "The conditioner also has the side benefit of leaving fewer tangles. And, honestly, Dara, I don't care what people might say. You are welcome to sleep here when I am or am not here. That's your choice, and I don't care what they would think. You, I know the truth."
A soft laugh, though the headshake meant to go with it is quickly curtailed; head must stay still. "You are wrong, Vanya." She says, softly. "You don't see it, but you are very much the type of person that should be courted." A fidget of fingers in lap. "And while riders are often horrible teases, there is usually enough truth there to show reality. You are beautiful, intelligent, tender, and loyal. And as I've said before, I know at least one person who would consider themselves lucky to win your affections. And who doesn't want you to have to endure the rumors about that that will certainly form, because of her own reputation and past. So, no, I can't accept." Eyes do close then, with a soft sigh. "No, not only riders get scored, and that's easy for me to forget. But, most of my friends and family are riders, so, it's how I think. And Thread is the scariest thing in this world."
"There are actually scarier things, Dara, things inside us that can destroy us or leave scars that don't go away. Threadscore can heal, leave scars that are physical things. Other scores are deeper and never heal properly. Both Thread and those things can kill us if the cancer goes deep enough." Vanya continues to dry and comb her hair, her touch gentle, loving, that of a friend. "You have won my affection, sweet one. Your openness, your honesty -- those are things that I admire in you, and you've won my friendship. That's no easy thing. I've never had many friends, and I envy you the weyr. As disjointed as it may be, it's an extended family. One that quarrels and snarls at one another, but I dare say would unite against a common foe and fight to the death for one another. That is something I've never known." She smiles. "Yes, maybe I didn't look deeply enough at D'ven, but he's still a nice person you should meet. And I'm not looking for a husband like holder girls. Just ... maybe a friend or two."
"Friendship you have." Dara says, softly. "That, at least, I can offer you. But don't think so highly of the weyr, Vanya. We're proving perfectly well right now how nicely we can tear ourselves apart." A quiet pause. "I... Vanya, I am very familier with those scars, those dark places inside us. I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'm trying hard to heal them, not let them control my life anymore. It's not easy." A very slight shake of the head, careful not to disturb her hands. "Friendship, that's what helps the most. It's also the biggest risk, as I learned with Aida. It's far too easy to give too much of yourself, to hope for things that can never be, and to be wounded all the more when reality reminds you what your place in the world is."
Vanya's hand stills a moment, then ceases to work altogether. Vanya is silent for a long time, and if Dara turns, she'll see an odd expression on the healer's face. It's not anger, it's not despair. "Never let them see you bleed, Dara," she whispers. "Give of yourself, but never give all. Save something for yourself and yourself alone. Be as loving as you want, but never love anyone more than you love yourself. I don't mean be self-centered, but care for yourself, nurture what's inside and never, ever let them see you bleeding. When they do, they become like rabid predators and circle for the kill. They can smell the blood, and it's like a feeding frenzy." Her voice is haunted, almost hollow, devoid of emotion. "Guard yourself, and remember in the long haul the one person you can always depend upon most is yourself." A hand falls on the girl's shoulder, squeezes gently. "I'm not placing the weyr on a pedestal, I'm looking at what I've seen. Even ... even Aida, I think, would defend you against an outsider. You are her person to argue with, to be angry at. Not someone else's. People are funny that way."
Essdara lifts a hand to cover the one on her shoulder, with a soft squeeze. She turns in the chair to face her, as best she can. "Who are 'they'?" She asks, softly. "I let... Very few people see me inside. But I can't do what you say, Vanya. I don't love myself. I... Have come to like myself, more than I did. It's changed a lot for me. But I don't think I am there, yet. But I won't hold back from other people waiting for that. I won't pull away. I would rather be ripped to shreds and left to bleed out, than to live my life isolate." She looks up at the healer. "Sometimes... We have to trust. We have to know at least one person out there loves us, sees us as more than we see ourselves, and wants to show us what they see." She wraps her hand around the healers, gently lifting it from her shoulder to hold it. "Seems to me, you've lacked someone like that for far too long."
Vanya is quiet again. "It's a nebulous pronoun, they. It encompasses all and single, abstract and ... and maybe inappropriate for me to have used." She sounds tired and weary. Not just physically, but emotionally and maybe soul-weary somewhat. "I'm probably just a bit tired, maybe still a little affected by the mead." She sighs. "Essdara, liking can turn into love. Liking yourself is a good start. And, I don't mean turn away from everyone. I mean care for people, but don't give everything of yourself to them, because if you do, then what do you leave for yourself?" She moves around in front of the girl, wraps her arms around her, if permitted. "Where is the girl who lectured me on self-worth that first night? Where is hiding? We are all a work in progress, Dara dear. Some of us will succeed, others will fail. You will succeed, my dear friend. You have helped me succeed more than you know." She releases her, reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Someday we will look back on these days and laugh, and laughter is better than tears, unless they are tears of joy that we've succeeded where others have failed. Don't define yourself by what others think of you." She smiles then, reaching up to touch Essdara's nose with a fingertip. "Practice what you preach, young lady. A cook who feeds more than the stomach is beyond price."
Essdara accepts the hug - even welcomes it, pulling her in tighter with a soft smile. "She's... An illusion, if you will. A slight of soul to fool the people who don't know to look." Arms wrapped around Vanya, she rests her cheek on the healer's shoulder. "Knowing that we should all value ourselves, is not the same as being able to do so. But I am learning. Little things, like being diffrent, liking girls, standing up for myself, aren't wrong. Bit things, like knowing that not having children doesn't mean I have no purpose. No, I am learning, and making that illusion solid... Slowly." She lifts her head, then, and her gaze seeks out Vanya's, eyes trying to hold hers. "And whether I succeed or fail, is irrelevant. I won't give up, and I won't walk alone." One of her hands moves from it's place about Vanya, lightly touching her cheek. "But I still think you have been alone too long, and that makes my heart hurt, and makes me want to stay here forever and never leave you to that darkness again. And who knows that you aren't right that like can become love, and we might wake up one day to realise how happy we really are?" Her smile takes on an almost shy edge, "And, as you say... A healer who heals the heart is a precious thing."
Part of what Dara says is a little beyond Vanya's understanding, but she can recognize hope when she sees it. "None of us know what lies in store for us around the next corner, or beneath the next rock we lift. It might be anything, but if we don't look, we'll never know, and may miss the greatest joy on Pern. As long as you keep that outlook, you will succeed, Dara. You're already miles beyond many. I wish for you all the joy and happiness, maybe tears and sorrow that is a voyage of self-discovery. You speak far wiser than your years, Dara. There are adults who are not as level-headed as you. Embrace your differences, revel in them. They're yours and yours alone. Treasure them as your greatest gift to Pern. Faranth knows if you were younger, I'd sponsor you myself to Healer Hall, and beg Master Simbum to work with you. To teach you how to give this gift of yours to the rest of us." She smiles and holds the girl, if that's what Dara wants. "As for me, I'm no longer alone. I have a true friend, one that I can trust. You've no idea how that touches me. I only pray I prove worthy of it, Dara, for I lack that faith in me that you see. I hope that reflection of me I see through your eyes proves even halfway true."
Essdara smiles more, cheeks going deep red. "I'd make a lousy healer, Vanya, but your meaning is clear and very much appreciated." Her thumb lightly strokes Vanya's cheek a moment, before reluctantly pulling back. "I lack the faith in me you see. But when I lack that... I will rely on your vision to guide me, and hope that you can do the same. As for how true it is... Time will answer that, but I am sure enough of what I see. I don't think you are any more duplicitous than I am." A fond gaze for a moment, and then a sigh, and she is wiggling away and to her feet, "I think, Vanya, it is best we call it a night... And I will visit again soon for you to try out your ribbons. I think you will find me readily available, when you have the time for me." Backing towards the door. "Sleep well, dearheat. I'll see you at breakfast, and hope that the soreness forgotten with you, hasn't returned."
Players: Vanya, Essdara
Location: Vanya's Room
Synopsis: Catharsis. After the emotional roller coaster that's been her day, Vanya has a bit of a meltdown, dragging Dara right along with her. Angst, thy name is Vanya.
Vanya's Room,
Near Midnight
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, a basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sitting on the floor beneath.
With T'ral gone, the bath winds down quickly; clean and approaching waterlogged, the two women make their exit from the pool and dress. As they exit the caverns, Dara falls into step with Vanya, walking with her in companionable silence back to her room. Once there, the door closed behind them, and Dara takes a few steps into the room with a wistful look around. "One thing I envy you for, Vanya, is a private room. Never had an ounce of space to call my own in my life, and there have been times I have sorely felt that lack."
"When you are head cook, you will have a place of your own, Dara, I'm sure," Vanya says, depositing her basket on the table, her hair wrapped turban-style in a purloined towel. She's a little subdued, but not morose. Just ... quiet. "Now, shall we dry your hair and see what the conditioner has done for it?" she suggests, leaving her own hair wrapped. "A place to call your own doesn't necessarily have to be physical. You can have a place inside yourself where you are always private, someplace of your very own that no one can ever take from you." She goes over to the chest, rumages for a moment, pulling out a comb, brush and the promised ribbons.
Essdara watches her. She, too, has a quiet air to her, a very neutral presence in the room. "Sure... Where do you want me to sit, that works best?" Is her query. "And I do try to have such a place, but it's not the same. Especially on those nights where you just... Don't want to be around people." A shrug. "I admit, though, I'm easilly effected by such things. Some nights, just sleep in the bowl, or the stores, or the hatching galleries... Not comfortable, but at least alone."
Vanya can certainly understand that. "Dara, when I have night shifts, you're welcome to sleep in here," she offers. "I, of all people, understand that need for aloneness when I sleep. I don't want you to ever think I'd mind. If you like, you can come down here and sleep even when I am here. The bed's too small for two, but we can make you a comfortable pallet, or snitch a mattress from stores and hide it under the bed." She's very sincere. "The chair is fine, dear. Just relax, and chalk up my quietness to ... to drinking earlier." A good enough excuse, and one that doesn't reveal that the fact D'ven has a girlfriend affected her far more than she expected. Or likes. He could have told her, after all. Instead, he -- It's there on her face, if someone knows to look. "Learning to play dragon poker will be fun, I think. It would be nice to surprise D'ven." And there's just a little coolness in her tone. "I hope the 'fall goes well tomorrow. I don't want to see them hurt. None of them."
Essdara is neither blind, nor a stranger to the effects such news can have. She watches her friend for a moment, a sad smile on her face. "He must be a very nice person, to have effected you so." She says, simply. Turning away, she moves to sit in the chair. "You... Will learn to live with Fall. Most people do." Gaze stays stright ahead. "It's... A very lovely offer, Vanya, but alas not one I can accept. You don't need the rumors that would bring - bad enough we are the friends we are." Another quiet pause. "I'm sure he didn't..." She starts to say, but bites it off, leaving whatever the full thought was unsaid.
Vanya also knows Dara is no silly girl who can be put off with pretty words. "It shouldn't have," she says, voice soft. "After all, I can't say he ever made any ... overtures that he'd like to see me other than as a friend. He's a tease, yes, and fun, but there was nothing else, believe me." She sighs softly. "I told you, I am not the kind of woman a man comes courting, Dara. And, yes, I suppose I will, but a healer must always be prepared for the worst, and pleasantly surprised by the best. It's our duty to worry for them, and we will, whether or not we learn to live with Thread or not. I've treated threadscore at the hall. It happens to everyone not just riders. They just take the brunt of the injuries." She begins to comb through the amazingly untangled hair. "The conditioner also has the side benefit of leaving fewer tangles. And, honestly, Dara, I don't care what people might say. You are welcome to sleep here when I am or am not here. That's your choice, and I don't care what they would think. You, I know the truth."
A soft laugh, though the headshake meant to go with it is quickly curtailed; head must stay still. "You are wrong, Vanya." She says, softly. "You don't see it, but you are very much the type of person that should be courted." A fidget of fingers in lap. "And while riders are often horrible teases, there is usually enough truth there to show reality. You are beautiful, intelligent, tender, and loyal. And as I've said before, I know at least one person who would consider themselves lucky to win your affections. And who doesn't want you to have to endure the rumors about that that will certainly form, because of her own reputation and past. So, no, I can't accept." Eyes do close then, with a soft sigh. "No, not only riders get scored, and that's easy for me to forget. But, most of my friends and family are riders, so, it's how I think. And Thread is the scariest thing in this world."
"There are actually scarier things, Dara, things inside us that can destroy us or leave scars that don't go away. Threadscore can heal, leave scars that are physical things. Other scores are deeper and never heal properly. Both Thread and those things can kill us if the cancer goes deep enough." Vanya continues to dry and comb her hair, her touch gentle, loving, that of a friend. "You have won my affection, sweet one. Your openness, your honesty -- those are things that I admire in you, and you've won my friendship. That's no easy thing. I've never had many friends, and I envy you the weyr. As disjointed as it may be, it's an extended family. One that quarrels and snarls at one another, but I dare say would unite against a common foe and fight to the death for one another. That is something I've never known." She smiles. "Yes, maybe I didn't look deeply enough at D'ven, but he's still a nice person you should meet. And I'm not looking for a husband like holder girls. Just ... maybe a friend or two."
"Friendship you have." Dara says, softly. "That, at least, I can offer you. But don't think so highly of the weyr, Vanya. We're proving perfectly well right now how nicely we can tear ourselves apart." A quiet pause. "I... Vanya, I am very familier with those scars, those dark places inside us. I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'm trying hard to heal them, not let them control my life anymore. It's not easy." A very slight shake of the head, careful not to disturb her hands. "Friendship, that's what helps the most. It's also the biggest risk, as I learned with Aida. It's far too easy to give too much of yourself, to hope for things that can never be, and to be wounded all the more when reality reminds you what your place in the world is."
Vanya's hand stills a moment, then ceases to work altogether. Vanya is silent for a long time, and if Dara turns, she'll see an odd expression on the healer's face. It's not anger, it's not despair. "Never let them see you bleed, Dara," she whispers. "Give of yourself, but never give all. Save something for yourself and yourself alone. Be as loving as you want, but never love anyone more than you love yourself. I don't mean be self-centered, but care for yourself, nurture what's inside and never, ever let them see you bleeding. When they do, they become like rabid predators and circle for the kill. They can smell the blood, and it's like a feeding frenzy." Her voice is haunted, almost hollow, devoid of emotion. "Guard yourself, and remember in the long haul the one person you can always depend upon most is yourself." A hand falls on the girl's shoulder, squeezes gently. "I'm not placing the weyr on a pedestal, I'm looking at what I've seen. Even ... even Aida, I think, would defend you against an outsider. You are her person to argue with, to be angry at. Not someone else's. People are funny that way."
Essdara lifts a hand to cover the one on her shoulder, with a soft squeeze. She turns in the chair to face her, as best she can. "Who are 'they'?" She asks, softly. "I let... Very few people see me inside. But I can't do what you say, Vanya. I don't love myself. I... Have come to like myself, more than I did. It's changed a lot for me. But I don't think I am there, yet. But I won't hold back from other people waiting for that. I won't pull away. I would rather be ripped to shreds and left to bleed out, than to live my life isolate." She looks up at the healer. "Sometimes... We have to trust. We have to know at least one person out there loves us, sees us as more than we see ourselves, and wants to show us what they see." She wraps her hand around the healers, gently lifting it from her shoulder to hold it. "Seems to me, you've lacked someone like that for far too long."
Vanya is quiet again. "It's a nebulous pronoun, they. It encompasses all and single, abstract and ... and maybe inappropriate for me to have used." She sounds tired and weary. Not just physically, but emotionally and maybe soul-weary somewhat. "I'm probably just a bit tired, maybe still a little affected by the mead." She sighs. "Essdara, liking can turn into love. Liking yourself is a good start. And, I don't mean turn away from everyone. I mean care for people, but don't give everything of yourself to them, because if you do, then what do you leave for yourself?" She moves around in front of the girl, wraps her arms around her, if permitted. "Where is the girl who lectured me on self-worth that first night? Where is hiding? We are all a work in progress, Dara dear. Some of us will succeed, others will fail. You will succeed, my dear friend. You have helped me succeed more than you know." She releases her, reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Someday we will look back on these days and laugh, and laughter is better than tears, unless they are tears of joy that we've succeeded where others have failed. Don't define yourself by what others think of you." She smiles then, reaching up to touch Essdara's nose with a fingertip. "Practice what you preach, young lady. A cook who feeds more than the stomach is beyond price."
Essdara accepts the hug - even welcomes it, pulling her in tighter with a soft smile. "She's... An illusion, if you will. A slight of soul to fool the people who don't know to look." Arms wrapped around Vanya, she rests her cheek on the healer's shoulder. "Knowing that we should all value ourselves, is not the same as being able to do so. But I am learning. Little things, like being diffrent, liking girls, standing up for myself, aren't wrong. Bit things, like knowing that not having children doesn't mean I have no purpose. No, I am learning, and making that illusion solid... Slowly." She lifts her head, then, and her gaze seeks out Vanya's, eyes trying to hold hers. "And whether I succeed or fail, is irrelevant. I won't give up, and I won't walk alone." One of her hands moves from it's place about Vanya, lightly touching her cheek. "But I still think you have been alone too long, and that makes my heart hurt, and makes me want to stay here forever and never leave you to that darkness again. And who knows that you aren't right that like can become love, and we might wake up one day to realise how happy we really are?" Her smile takes on an almost shy edge, "And, as you say... A healer who heals the heart is a precious thing."
Part of what Dara says is a little beyond Vanya's understanding, but she can recognize hope when she sees it. "None of us know what lies in store for us around the next corner, or beneath the next rock we lift. It might be anything, but if we don't look, we'll never know, and may miss the greatest joy on Pern. As long as you keep that outlook, you will succeed, Dara. You're already miles beyond many. I wish for you all the joy and happiness, maybe tears and sorrow that is a voyage of self-discovery. You speak far wiser than your years, Dara. There are adults who are not as level-headed as you. Embrace your differences, revel in them. They're yours and yours alone. Treasure them as your greatest gift to Pern. Faranth knows if you were younger, I'd sponsor you myself to Healer Hall, and beg Master Simbum to work with you. To teach you how to give this gift of yours to the rest of us." She smiles and holds the girl, if that's what Dara wants. "As for me, I'm no longer alone. I have a true friend, one that I can trust. You've no idea how that touches me. I only pray I prove worthy of it, Dara, for I lack that faith in me that you see. I hope that reflection of me I see through your eyes proves even halfway true."
Essdara smiles more, cheeks going deep red. "I'd make a lousy healer, Vanya, but your meaning is clear and very much appreciated." Her thumb lightly strokes Vanya's cheek a moment, before reluctantly pulling back. "I lack the faith in me you see. But when I lack that... I will rely on your vision to guide me, and hope that you can do the same. As for how true it is... Time will answer that, but I am sure enough of what I see. I don't think you are any more duplicitous than I am." A fond gaze for a moment, and then a sigh, and she is wiggling away and to her feet, "I think, Vanya, it is best we call it a night... And I will visit again soon for you to try out your ribbons. I think you will find me readily available, when you have the time for me." Backing towards the door. "Sleep well, dearheat. I'll see you at breakfast, and hope that the soreness forgotten with you, hasn't returned."