I Only Suggested, Not Demanded
IC Date: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Vanya, H'kon
Location: Hatching Galleries
Synopsis: Vanya and H'kon get together to discuss their invention, and end up getting to know each other a little better. Well, at least get to know what pushes each other's buttons.
Hatching Galleries,
Late Afternoon
Countless rows of benches have been carved directly into the rock face of this immense cavern. The stone itself is dark grey and smooth, and warm to the touch due to its proximity to the sands. The galleries follow a curve, extending out on either side of the sands. A black-painted wooden railing that looks sturdy enough to keep the hatchlings away from the people and the people away from the hatchlings separates the two areas. Baskets of glows have been raised on intricately carved poles that line the aisles, ensuring that there is ample light to see by.
Avoiding the snow, Vanya has chosen a place both warm and likely to be deserted to meet H'kon while Arekoth soaks in the hot springs of the dragon baths. That's the advantage of the Hatching Galleries, too. They're always warm. With winter fully wrapping its arms around High Reaches, sitting in the Galleries is ... well, it's nice. Warm nice. Well lighted, too, and it's here that Vanya sits, her hides spread out on the seats, mostly drawings and sketches of the "device" she's trying to design with the brownrider's help. "I'm not certain if you can get what I'm going for here, but this is the best I can do," she says, tapping one of the hides. "It's big, yes, but if we can find the components, I'm fairly certain it will work." What she's meaning is a large, wooden frame with two sections a few inches apart, adjustable for tightness, through which a dragon's front leg can go. Pressure is set by a series of wing-like fixtures on the sides that tighten and loosen what looks like wires or ropes that run through a set of wide, flattish wheels.
Having laid his winter gear - jacket, toque (he's managed to knit himself a new one, albeit an ugly one), and the glove and mitt that have been tag-teamed for the duration of the bandaging on his hand, H'kon is sat alongside Vanya. The brownrider leans over to peer at the hides, idly poking at the inside of his hand, tracing along where he knows the stitches to be with his fingertips. "We could talk to the shipbuilders. They would know where to get large materials like this. My father knows a few." His head cants a little as he inspects the tightening devices along the sides. "These are going to have to be exceptionally durable. The whole structure, yes, but these will have to deal with added pull, especially when the dragon is running his foot through."
Vanya nods. "I know, and that will have to be your department, H'kon," she says, looking at him. "I have no idea how to do this. I finally settled on this design after discarding about a dozen other concepts. I will, of course, help where I can, but I've never shown much aptitude for mechanics or construction." She shakes her head. "I haven't even any idea what /kind/ of materials to use. It has to be heavy enough to actually do some good, but can't be so heavy it can't be operated by a human. And, it'll have to be a permanent structure, I'm thinking. Something that big can't be moved, and will need to be set in the ground so it doesn't move."
"I agree that it will need to be anchored... Accessibility is something that we'll have to consider." A glance down to his bandaged hand, and he gives the wound an especially hard poke, eyebrows shooting downward, though there's no other clear evidence of pain. "We should talk to shipbuilders," he repeats. "And the smiths as well. There is surely a difference between wind force and dragon force." Hand is being rubbed gently by his thumb now, as he looks back to her sketches. "If I can take those back with me, I'm sure I can start working on models soon." Fingers of the left hand are flexed.
"I was thinking along that line, too," Vanya admits. "The shipbuilders will know which woods are sturdiest, though we may have to try a couple of different kinds. Also, we probably won't need posts as tall as masts, since this will be limited to relatively smaller portions of dragons." She looks at the hide drawing once more, brow creased in thought. "I'd toyed with metal wheels, but those may be /too/ heavy for what we need. They'll have to roll smoothly, though, and whatever they're mounted on will have to be flexible. Rope isn't going to work. I'm thinking we may have to use cable of some kind, or wire-enforced rope? I'm not even certain that kind of thing exists on Pern." She glances over at H'kon. "Are we insane for even thinking of trying this? I'm beginning to wonder."
H'kon shakes his head, though it's a move of agreement. "Rope tends to cause friction. Could be countered by casings, though. I saw a necklace like that once; metal tubes instead of a chain, around just basic string. If there's a smith who can draw out long enough wires, that we could get weaved into rope, then if we were to case it... it might take care of the friction. Though if we're going to increase the tension, the rope will be shortened..." His eyes have drifted closed for the imagery, and his forehead is harshly creased. This concentration is brought to an end for her final question - whether it's rhetorical or not. Icy eyes are opened, and turned to healer. "We're thinking it out. The problem would be if we were to just make it and waste material. As is, the planning should keep us from being too foolish."
"Well, there'll be those who think we're foolish to begin with," Vanya counters. "I've no doubt of that, and I'm sure we're going to get more than our share of incredulous laughter. What we need is to bring this to those who aren't afraid of new ideas, new ways of doing things, and that can be ... dangerous. To so many, to think new thoughts is to be relegated to the ranks of Instigators." She takes a deep breath. "No, what we're going to have to do is ... maybe look toward the Caucus. They teach students to be innovative and to think. Maybe we can find someone there from the Smithcraft or the Fishercraft who won't laugh at something new and different." She purses her lips for a moment. "At least that's what they're supposed to be doing there. Creating leaders for tomorrow with vision."
H'kon stiffens noticeably as soon as the Instigators are mentioned. "This is not at all the same," he states rather firmly. "This is nothing to do with social order. This is just a form of treatment, and -you- are a journeyman healer." Once the hair on the back of his neck has had time to settle, and he's given a few more fierce pokes to his hand, he adds in a mutter, "We will look to the Caucus. And if they deny it, then we can give it up. But... I was certain part of the role of a journeyman is to research their craft, and further it. There is nothing illegal about this." At least he's not worried about people laughing.
Vanya's brow knits. "H'kon, I never said it was illegal!" she exclaims, blinking at his reaction. "I'm merely stating the obvious. Unless you speak to a craft /master/, most of your average crafters think along the same lines as they've always thought, do things the same way they've been done for centuries. Look at my own specialty. Physical therapy is a viable skill, yet many healers feel it's unorthodox and suspect. Neiran's surgical skills are innovative and desperately needed, but look how many Pernese feel about invasive surgery. They fear it, even though it saves lives." She shakes her head. "The only reason I was given a Journeyman's rank is because I spent five turns fighting to get my specialty recognized as viable. It doesn't matter, to many, any new way of doing things smacks of Instigators, social order aside." She gives a sigh. "But, yes, we'll try to see if there are those in the Caucus who will support the concept, and maybe help with ideas."
"Now that you mention it, you're almost right, though." He frowns, leaning forward a bit more, elbows resting on his knees. "It does seem strange. I'm not a bronzerider. I hold no special rank. I have no specific training in this..." The creases at the corner of his mouth deepen, and he lifts his hands to run his fingers through his short hair. "I've got no reason to think what I'm suggesting will be -right- even." Somewhat deflated, he gives a final, thorough scratch to his head. "I might be... exceeding my place. We definitely should look to those in Caucus."
Vanya's lips thin just a bit more. "No," she says, and this is emphatic. "What does the color of your dragon matter? Why does that have to dictate what you can and cannot do, or should do? Whether or not you even ride a dragon is immaterial. You have brains and skills and they're helpful. Do you think I could do this myself? No. I'd have to find someone to build it for me, like I had to find a carpenter with enough vision to see what I wanted with my table. Even then, he thought I was insane until I demonstrated it, and he saw the light, so to speak." She reaches out a hand and touches H'kon's arm. "I came to /you/ with this project because you believed in it, and believed in /me/ enough to let me try and help Arekoth. Stop thinking that way, right now. Even if we get some advice from the Caucus students, this is the product of our minds and skills. Not theirs."
You are now quiet on Public.
"Because, Vanya, people are born into certain things. Place is decided by it. You can't go against it. There has to be some innate qualities..." He seems about ready to go on, but the hand to his arm silences any further argument on the topic. That hand is eyed warily. "Look. We do need to be careful on what bounds might be overstepped. We should talk to Caucus. And to Roa - she was the one who you'd mentioned, right?" And H'kon looks sobered, somewhat. "We should talk to her again, maybe."
From afar, H'kon gahs! His arguments are painfully... bad. *shudders* The academic in me is reeling.
Vanya's hand remains on his arm. "Maybe some things need to just be done, not debated," she says slowly. "Maybe it's time people just did things. I'm not under the jurisdiction of the Caucus. I'm a Journeyman, like you said, and this /is/ research in my field of special interest. I was only suggesting we might consider asking some of the Caucus students because they're /supposed/ to be learning how to be the leaders of tomorrow. I don't need their approval for this." She pauses. "Now, I admit I'd like to consult with Neiran, perhaps, mainly because of his knowledge. Roa, yes, possibly, since she was the one who initially put the idea in my head for such a device. But --!" And here she gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "-- I did /not/ want you to get to thinking we're doing anything illegal or immoral or anything like that. It's just that some crafters are, well, hidebound. /Too/ hidebound for the good of the craft, in my not so humble opinion. If this device works, well, I'll fight for it. I'm not afraid to stand up for what I think is good and right, no matter the cost. Some times new ideas /work/, and /should/ be pursued."
H'kon studies Vanya carefully, cautiously moving a hand across to rest lightly on top of hers. The brownrider is quiet for a long moment, slight twitches at the corner of his mouth evidence of whatever thoughts occur. And finally, there's a slow nod. "That... makes sense. I think." He runs the tip of his tongue over the cutting edge of his front teeth. "But... So this idea isn't..." Further conflict evident on his face, nose wrinkling. "I don't... /know/ things like this. I'll do what I can, but you /must/ make sure that everything's fine otherwise." Not quite over the panic her observations had prompted, H'kon doesn't quite move to go back to the plotting. In fact, he doesn't quite move at all, looking expectantly to her.
"I will take every precaution, test every theory and make certain this works before I even allow Arekoth near it," Vanya promises. "I like Arekoth, and I wouldn't risk endangering him in any fashion, H'kon. If you believe nothing else about me, please believe that." Her words are earnest and her expression is serious. "What I was only trying to do was caution you that some people don't stop to consider facts, they merely look at things from a narrow perspective. For there to be a future, there must be people brave enough to not think about what /is/, but what /could/ be. Vision. Innovation. Inventiveness. Not hidebound people who hold others back because of blood, birth or gender." She falls silent a moment, then adds, "I earned my knot because I worked hard, and stood up for what I felt. I'm not going to stop believing in what I do because it might be unpopular."
"I didn't mean that," H'kon notes softly. His fingers twitch overtop of hers. "I know you won't hurt his leg any more than it is. I mean, if the leaders like... if anything we do goes against something it's not supposed to, I don't want part of it. I mean, like, seriously against... I mean if someone says something to you I want to know about it." His face goes a bit more stoney. "I don't doubt you earned what you've got. But blood and birth -do- have a place. The world needs order somehow."
Vanya's face relaxes. "Yes, they do, but being born to position doesn't always mean you deserve that position, either. That's something I know for a fact, believe me. My mother is blooded, but my father wasn't. She married him because she loved him, and has been punished for it ever since. Being blooded doesn't mean a person has either the knowledge or the skill to run a hold properly." She finally removes her hand, shaking her head. "Being born a woman doesn't mean you lack the intelligence needed to do something, yet look how many Crafts bar women, or allow them to advance only so far. Healercraft is one of the few where women /can/ attain master status, but even then she must work ten times harder, and is held to a higher standard than any man." Her eyes close. "Do you honestly think they'd have put me on administrative leave if I'd been a /man/?" A beat. "No, they wouldn't have. A man who sleeps around? He's just sowing wild oats. A woman? Well, she's a whore."
"It's not a just system," H'kon murmurs. "But it is necessary. At least," and H'kon is willing to give in just a little, "somewhat necessary." His own hand returns to rest on his knee, when Vanya withdraws hers. The talk of her personal experiences has the man looking distinctly uncomfortable, and his words following it are tentative: "There... are things that men are better at than women, I think. And things that women are better at then men." There's a slow, soft smile next, and his voice is almost a whisper as he pledges, "And I promise if I ever hear anyone calling you a whore, I'd make them stop. Might... might have to go get my other hand sewn up for it, but I would." An expectant glance - this time to see how an attempted joke was received.
There's a moment when Vanya's expression hovers between horror and startlement, but then it slides all the way over into amusement. "Well, I appreciate that, but I don't like the idea of anyone getting hurt in my name," she says, her own voice soft. "That's a sweet thing to say, nonetheless I hope it never comes to pass." The smile she turns on him is genuine, though, there's no doubt of that. "Be that as it may, yes, some things come easier for women than men, and vice versa -- yet, should a woman be barred from even trying if she shows talent or skill in that thing? A good example are female riders. I've yet to see one who isn't as well trained as a male rider, yet the prejudice exists, even in the weyrs. Life may not be fair, and I don't expect it to be, but there should be some way they can advance as well as a male rider." She regards H'kon for a long time. "You yourself said it a few minutes ago when you said you weren't a bronzerider. So what? Can you tell me you and Arekoth are less trained to fight Thread than any bronzerider?"
H'kon doesn't have to think on this question posed to him quite so long. "I didn't say Arekoth and I are any worse at Threadfighting. But we're different. Arekoth's not a big brown. He tires sooner than some of the bigger ones. And a green dragon's the same; won't fly so long. Doesn't mean she's not good, just means she's suited for different things. And neither me nor some greenrider are going to be Weyrleader. And a woman greenrider's never going to be Weyrwoman. Just how things are in a Weyr. I don't know much about all the crafts or holds. I've never known any woman who wants to join up with the fishercraft. And if she's not as strong on a boat, then maybe she shouldn't join, 'cause she'd put everyone else in danger." And he twitches. "I don't know about other things, but there are reasons people have to prove themselves, too. And I can't make things more fair than they already are."
Vanya still smiles, and nods. "There are reasons, /good/ reasons for everything you say, but there are always exceptions, and just because everything has been done the same way for turns, doesn't mean the exceptions should be ignored. Now, the weyr is different, yes, and I'm not saying things should change," she says, her points made calmly and quietly. "But, it would seem to me that a good weyrleader will listen to /all/ his riders, no matter what color dragon they ride. What if you have a bronzerider who is not so good at being a wingleader? What if a brownrider is better at strategy and tactics. Should the brownrider be ignored? Should his ideas and suggestions be worth less because he rides a brown and not a bronze?" She shakes her head. "It's all in how a leader uses their people to the best advantage. A brownrider may never be weyrleader, or a green a weyrwoman, but if they're useful and have good ideas, they shouldn't be ignored."
H'kon shifts forward in his seat as she continues on, almost ready to stand. "Well... that's the point of Caucus, right? To get the people who /should/ be leaders," he pauses briefly after this statement to peer at Vanya from just beneath his eyebrows, before continuing, "to know the skills of their people. But to use them -properly- right? Otherwise, you get blueriders who start to think about changing things on their own." There's a bit of a growl/grunt, as his head is given a harsh shake. "So let's stop talking about this now." That's said with a distinct finality..
"Yes, it is, which is why I thought of talking to some of the Caucus students. I'm sure both the Fishercraft and Minecraft have sent representatives, and I know the Healercraft has. So, we start talking to these future leaders, and see if we can pique some interest in the research," Vanya says, content to let the controversial subject drop. "There are new discoveries every day, and one of them might know something we don't. It never hurts to experiment, but a little judicial planning saves time and resources. You were quite right about that, H'kon. We have an idea, and what we need now is to figure out how to build it. A model will help, I'm sure. If you can build that, well, we're more than half-way home," she says with a smile.
H'kon settles a little as Vanya sums up her suggestions, leaning back into his seat, stance widening a little as whatever alert had been sounded in his brain is put aside. "Right," is said at the end. He reaches now to scratch the fingers of his right hand across his head once more. "Shards," is finally said. "My brain hurts now, you know?"
Vanya chuckles softly. "Well, I've been told I talk much," she says, gathering the hides together and stacking them neatly. "I'm sorry to go off on such a tangent. I did't mean to start a debate on reorganizing the planet." She smiles almost embarrassed at the rider. "Next time, just stuff a glove in my mouth or something." There's a bit of a sparkle in her eyes as she looks over at H'kon. "How's Arekoth doing, by the way? I should, I suppose, go over there an check on him, but it's nice in here. Warm and quiet." She looks out over the empty sands. "I just wish there was a clutch of eggs on the sands. It doesn't matter which queen rises first -- though my preference is, naturally, Sinopa -- just as long as one rises soon. I think people will be a lot more settled and happy when there're new leaders in place."
"You do talk a lot," H'kon admits, not unhappily. "You got me going too, for a while," the man adds with a little bit of a blush beneath the stubbly beard. "I will do my best to bring a spare glove with me." His eyes flutter closed, and he gets a bit of a smirk on his face. "Arekoth is doing well. He doesn't mind if you want to wait here longer." He glances quickly to the sands next, and then to Vanya. "No more talk about leaders."
"All right, no more talk about leaders," Vanya agrees, settling back in her seat and even going so far as to prop her booted feet up on the row of seats in front of her. She doesn't say anything for a long time, letting her head rest on the back of her seat, folding her hands on her abdomen. Then, "How's the hand? Caused you any pain or discomfort since it was stitched up?" she inquires. "If so, you'd best be getting yourself back down to the Infirmary, or else." The warning is said in a friendly voice, but she leaves the "or else" up to his own interpretation.
H'kon finds himself leaned forward once more, again propping his elbows on his knees. He allows his head to hang, eyes closed for a moment merely for the rest than for any thought or debate. "It hurts a little," drifts up from the bowed head. "I tried working up a pair of straps this morning... and that was probably bad." His shoulders twitch in something of a shrug. "I think I'm overdue for getting bandages changed. But I'll just go after we're done with Arekoth."
"I can take a look, if you like," Vanya offers, opening her eyes, but not making a move to sit up. She won't force the issue, if H'kon prefers to take his injury back to the Infirmary. "You shouldn't over-do it, no, and let it heal a bit before trying anything really strenuous. Exercise is good, but you don't want to risk tearing the stitches." She still doesn't move, but shifts her head to one side to regard the rider. "If you want to keep busy, I suggest something like your knitting. It will keep your fingers flexible without straining the palm."
H'kon looks over his shoulder to the healer, hesitates a moment, and then turns to sit somewhat sideways, one leg pulling up onto the seat with him. "I was just getting bored," he notes. "I did some knitting," and he nods to the toque. "But I ran out of wool. And the straps needed fixing." The hand is then held out to the healer, palm-upward. His fingers are straightened to make the wound more accessible. "I should get to be back on duty though, so it won't be so bad."
Vanya sits up then, reaching for the hand. With expert movements, she unwraps the bandage, careful to note any sign of putrefaction on the cloth. Examining the wound doesn't take long, and she seems pleased by what she sees. "Looks good," she remarks, lightly touching the skin around the stitches, probing gently and checking for discoloration and redness. "You've managed not to tear the stitches, and it appears to be healing well." Then she leans forward, bringing H'kon's hand to her nose, sniffing. "No sign of infection I can see or smell, which is very good." She sits up, nodding. "Get them to change the dressing, yes, but the stitches won't come out for at least another few days, I'd say. Once that happens, you'll still need to keep the hand clean and not use it without some kind of protection over the wound."
H'kon watches as Vanya does this, looking almost embarrassed for her praise of the healing. "Arekoth helped. Keeps helping." He has to laugh just a little as she sniffs it. "I'll go to the infirmary after you help Arekoth," he repeats. The leg that is up on the seat threatens to fall, and he readjusts it with his right hand, seeing as the left is otherwise occupied. "So just like bandages still? To protect it? Later?"
Vanya works on re-bandaging the hand, careful to make sure it isn't wrapped too tight. "Yes, or later on, maybe a glove. My old instructor used to recommend cloth gloves with the fingers cut off. That way, the fingers are free, but the palm is still protected." She re-ties the cloth, then returns his hand to him. "The main thing is to keep the wound clean, even after it looks as if it's healed. By that, I mean washing it at least once a day, and keeping it protected for at least a couple of seven days. At that point, it's likely as healed as it's going to get." She sits back again, smiling. "You're lucky. It was a clean cut. Could have been much worse."
"A glove." He settles his heand in his lap, still, for the time, keeping his leg up, and his torso twisted toward Vanya. "That's a long time to be wearing a glove," he notes. "I don't think Arekoth will remember it that long," is added with a touch of humour. Remembering himself more full, legs is dropped from the bench, and he sits facing forward again, eyes falling to the empty sands.
"Well, it won't be Arekoth who's wearing it, will it?" Vanya remarks with a soft chuckle. "Besides, the time will pass quickly, I've no doubt. You just have to be careful, not stop doing everything. Be aware of your hand and take care of it. Once it's fully healed, you shouldn't have any trouble with it." She grins at him, turning her own head back to regard the sands. "It's peaceful in here, you know? I like to come here and read, or play my gittern. Only rarely have I seen anyone else in here, though I'm sure it's crowded during clutching and hatching." She sighs. "I've never seen either one of those. I hope to someday."
H'kon shakes his head, a touch of a smile gracing his face, even if it's that awkward one. "Arekoth is probably the reason the stitches aren't pulled out." He's started to trace over the cut, against the bandages, again, chewing a few bits of dried skin off his lips. "The first Hatching I got to go to was the one where Arekoth found me," is murmured after some thought. "I don't think it's the same, watching it up here as it is down there."
"You know, I have some lip balm that will help that," Vanya says, watching H'kon chewing his lips from the corner of her eyes. "It's very good, and I use it myself during winter, or if I'm going to be out in the wind. It has no color and no particular flavor, though there is a bit of mint in it for the healing properties." She grins. "There's also lotion for hands and salves that will help wind burned skin. Would you like to try some?" she offers generously. "I'll be having to make more up, soon, but I still have a bit left."
H'kon's lips are tucked in, mouth turning into only a line on his face. There's a shake of his head, before he's willing to free his lips from hiding to offer, "They're fine as they are." His hands are flexed next, and he peers to them. "The hands are fine, too," is added to this. His shoulders tuck in almost defensively. A slight wince at a mental jab prompts, "I mean, thank you. For offering. Your... mint."
"You really don't much care for medicines, do you, H'kon?" Vanya remarks. It's mostly a rhetorical question, but she turns her head slightly. "I mean, I'm not upset, it's just that I've noticed your wariness when I mention things like lotions, liniment, tea -- any herbal concoction that might remotely resemble something medicinal." She sounds more curious than anything else, really. "They really aren't harmful, you know, and not at all girly. Many riders use the lip balm to protect their lips from chapping in winter." She chuckles. "I get the impression you really don't trust healers all that much." A beat. "Not that many people do, really. I mean why trust someone who's going to cause them pain in the name of curing them." Some touch of bitterness there, but not aimed at H'kon.
"It's not..." H'kon has to pause, eyes closing for consultation, as he attempts to find a less harsh way of wording his thoughts. "I don't distrust healers. Or medicines." He looks directly to Vanya now, this time tracing the lines of the bandages with his fingers, rather than the cut beneath them. "But if they aren't necessary... then they're a waste." His head cants a little, and he attempts further explanation with, "I don't need soft lips. And soft hands will actually be worse."
"Do you like the taste of blood when your lips crack?" Vanya asks, her brows lift. "I've had chapped lips, and they're painful. It's not just to soften your lips, H'kon, but to alleviate the pain. I don't consider it a waste at all, if it helps." She shakes her head gently. "Soft hands? No -- but skin that's abraded by wind and cold can crack just like dragon hide. Oiling your dragon prevents that, right? So, just think of it like oiling your own skin," she reasons. "I use it, and you wouldn't exactly call my hands Lady Holder soft, would you?" She holds out a hand, and there are a few rough places on her fingertips. "I play a stringed instrument, you see, and calluses are inevitable."
H'kon looks a bit affronted as she fires off those questions and comparisons to him, and finds himself almost stuttering over his response. "It's... I... don't mind it. They don't hurt too much, either." His lips are licked, self-consciously now. "Usually have gloves on anyone. They don't get too cold or cracked by the wind..." And now he straightens his shoulders, sits up straight, and turns to her. "How come you try so hard to get me to put mint on myself and my dragon?"
Vanya blinks. "Because it will help?" she says, taken slightly aback. "Why do you worry about it?" she shoots back. "I don't have any ulterior motives, H'kon. It's not always the mint, either. It's the salve itself. Mint generally makes the more odious concoctions smell better, is all, and helps draw it into the skin. Faranth, why are you so suspicious of me? I was only offering, and I wasn't offended you didn't want it. You made it sound frivolous, though, and that's why I pointed out what I did." She sighs. "All right, this is another subject best dropped. Sorry."
"Well, mint or not... you say it's not frivolous, but people got by fine without that kind of stuff before," H'kon points out. "I'm not suspicious," he adds. "I just don't... get it, I guess. You're always pushing something new every time I see you. Maybe it is best to drop it." And he looks away from her. His upper lip is chewed this time, the lower having been mostly cleared already of skin-bits. "I didn't mean it like I don't trust you," is apologised now. "I just don't like..." And that's replaced with, "Sorry."
"You don't like ... what?" Vanya asks, her voice quiet. "You might as well tell me, H'kon, that way I'll know what /not/ to do. If we're going to work together, then I need to know what will and won't upset you. If I'm constantly upsetting you -- and I'm not saying you sound upset -- then we'll get no where. I just happened to notice you chewing on the dried skin of your lips, and mentioned the balm. It was a suggestion, not a demand. I don't force things on anyone unless it's something serious."
H'kon is quiet for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line once more. His hands are clasped together before him, and he shakes his head. "It's probably just that I'm restless," the brownrider finally admits. "Even I can't just knit all day." He gives a bit of a snort now, shaking his head, and rubbing his beard against either shoulder. "We should probably go see to Arekoth. He'll be a dragon sponge by now."
"Perhaps that would be best," Vanya agrees, rising. "I'll join you as soon as I grab something warm to drink, how's that? I didn't get a chance to eat dinner, but that can wait." She picks up the sketches and hands them to H'kon. "Here, you keep these and see what you can come up with for a model. That should help a bit in the restless department. I'll grab you something while I'm in the living cavern and see you in the hot springs." She grabs her jacket, putting it on and buttoning it up the front. Scarf and gloves are added as proof against the snow and cold outside. "Shouldn't take me all that long. See you shortly," she says, making her way down the stairs and out of the Galleries.
Players: Vanya, H'kon
Location: Hatching Galleries
Synopsis: Vanya and H'kon get together to discuss their invention, and end up getting to know each other a little better. Well, at least get to know what pushes each other's buttons.
Hatching Galleries,
Late Afternoon
Countless rows of benches have been carved directly into the rock face of this immense cavern. The stone itself is dark grey and smooth, and warm to the touch due to its proximity to the sands. The galleries follow a curve, extending out on either side of the sands. A black-painted wooden railing that looks sturdy enough to keep the hatchlings away from the people and the people away from the hatchlings separates the two areas. Baskets of glows have been raised on intricately carved poles that line the aisles, ensuring that there is ample light to see by.
Avoiding the snow, Vanya has chosen a place both warm and likely to be deserted to meet H'kon while Arekoth soaks in the hot springs of the dragon baths. That's the advantage of the Hatching Galleries, too. They're always warm. With winter fully wrapping its arms around High Reaches, sitting in the Galleries is ... well, it's nice. Warm nice. Well lighted, too, and it's here that Vanya sits, her hides spread out on the seats, mostly drawings and sketches of the "device" she's trying to design with the brownrider's help. "I'm not certain if you can get what I'm going for here, but this is the best I can do," she says, tapping one of the hides. "It's big, yes, but if we can find the components, I'm fairly certain it will work." What she's meaning is a large, wooden frame with two sections a few inches apart, adjustable for tightness, through which a dragon's front leg can go. Pressure is set by a series of wing-like fixtures on the sides that tighten and loosen what looks like wires or ropes that run through a set of wide, flattish wheels.
Having laid his winter gear - jacket, toque (he's managed to knit himself a new one, albeit an ugly one), and the glove and mitt that have been tag-teamed for the duration of the bandaging on his hand, H'kon is sat alongside Vanya. The brownrider leans over to peer at the hides, idly poking at the inside of his hand, tracing along where he knows the stitches to be with his fingertips. "We could talk to the shipbuilders. They would know where to get large materials like this. My father knows a few." His head cants a little as he inspects the tightening devices along the sides. "These are going to have to be exceptionally durable. The whole structure, yes, but these will have to deal with added pull, especially when the dragon is running his foot through."
Vanya nods. "I know, and that will have to be your department, H'kon," she says, looking at him. "I have no idea how to do this. I finally settled on this design after discarding about a dozen other concepts. I will, of course, help where I can, but I've never shown much aptitude for mechanics or construction." She shakes her head. "I haven't even any idea what /kind/ of materials to use. It has to be heavy enough to actually do some good, but can't be so heavy it can't be operated by a human. And, it'll have to be a permanent structure, I'm thinking. Something that big can't be moved, and will need to be set in the ground so it doesn't move."
"I agree that it will need to be anchored... Accessibility is something that we'll have to consider." A glance down to his bandaged hand, and he gives the wound an especially hard poke, eyebrows shooting downward, though there's no other clear evidence of pain. "We should talk to shipbuilders," he repeats. "And the smiths as well. There is surely a difference between wind force and dragon force." Hand is being rubbed gently by his thumb now, as he looks back to her sketches. "If I can take those back with me, I'm sure I can start working on models soon." Fingers of the left hand are flexed.
"I was thinking along that line, too," Vanya admits. "The shipbuilders will know which woods are sturdiest, though we may have to try a couple of different kinds. Also, we probably won't need posts as tall as masts, since this will be limited to relatively smaller portions of dragons." She looks at the hide drawing once more, brow creased in thought. "I'd toyed with metal wheels, but those may be /too/ heavy for what we need. They'll have to roll smoothly, though, and whatever they're mounted on will have to be flexible. Rope isn't going to work. I'm thinking we may have to use cable of some kind, or wire-enforced rope? I'm not even certain that kind of thing exists on Pern." She glances over at H'kon. "Are we insane for even thinking of trying this? I'm beginning to wonder."
H'kon shakes his head, though it's a move of agreement. "Rope tends to cause friction. Could be countered by casings, though. I saw a necklace like that once; metal tubes instead of a chain, around just basic string. If there's a smith who can draw out long enough wires, that we could get weaved into rope, then if we were to case it... it might take care of the friction. Though if we're going to increase the tension, the rope will be shortened..." His eyes have drifted closed for the imagery, and his forehead is harshly creased. This concentration is brought to an end for her final question - whether it's rhetorical or not. Icy eyes are opened, and turned to healer. "We're thinking it out. The problem would be if we were to just make it and waste material. As is, the planning should keep us from being too foolish."
"Well, there'll be those who think we're foolish to begin with," Vanya counters. "I've no doubt of that, and I'm sure we're going to get more than our share of incredulous laughter. What we need is to bring this to those who aren't afraid of new ideas, new ways of doing things, and that can be ... dangerous. To so many, to think new thoughts is to be relegated to the ranks of Instigators." She takes a deep breath. "No, what we're going to have to do is ... maybe look toward the Caucus. They teach students to be innovative and to think. Maybe we can find someone there from the Smithcraft or the Fishercraft who won't laugh at something new and different." She purses her lips for a moment. "At least that's what they're supposed to be doing there. Creating leaders for tomorrow with vision."
H'kon stiffens noticeably as soon as the Instigators are mentioned. "This is not at all the same," he states rather firmly. "This is nothing to do with social order. This is just a form of treatment, and -you- are a journeyman healer." Once the hair on the back of his neck has had time to settle, and he's given a few more fierce pokes to his hand, he adds in a mutter, "We will look to the Caucus. And if they deny it, then we can give it up. But... I was certain part of the role of a journeyman is to research their craft, and further it. There is nothing illegal about this." At least he's not worried about people laughing.
Vanya's brow knits. "H'kon, I never said it was illegal!" she exclaims, blinking at his reaction. "I'm merely stating the obvious. Unless you speak to a craft /master/, most of your average crafters think along the same lines as they've always thought, do things the same way they've been done for centuries. Look at my own specialty. Physical therapy is a viable skill, yet many healers feel it's unorthodox and suspect. Neiran's surgical skills are innovative and desperately needed, but look how many Pernese feel about invasive surgery. They fear it, even though it saves lives." She shakes her head. "The only reason I was given a Journeyman's rank is because I spent five turns fighting to get my specialty recognized as viable. It doesn't matter, to many, any new way of doing things smacks of Instigators, social order aside." She gives a sigh. "But, yes, we'll try to see if there are those in the Caucus who will support the concept, and maybe help with ideas."
"Now that you mention it, you're almost right, though." He frowns, leaning forward a bit more, elbows resting on his knees. "It does seem strange. I'm not a bronzerider. I hold no special rank. I have no specific training in this..." The creases at the corner of his mouth deepen, and he lifts his hands to run his fingers through his short hair. "I've got no reason to think what I'm suggesting will be -right- even." Somewhat deflated, he gives a final, thorough scratch to his head. "I might be... exceeding my place. We definitely should look to those in Caucus."
Vanya's lips thin just a bit more. "No," she says, and this is emphatic. "What does the color of your dragon matter? Why does that have to dictate what you can and cannot do, or should do? Whether or not you even ride a dragon is immaterial. You have brains and skills and they're helpful. Do you think I could do this myself? No. I'd have to find someone to build it for me, like I had to find a carpenter with enough vision to see what I wanted with my table. Even then, he thought I was insane until I demonstrated it, and he saw the light, so to speak." She reaches out a hand and touches H'kon's arm. "I came to /you/ with this project because you believed in it, and believed in /me/ enough to let me try and help Arekoth. Stop thinking that way, right now. Even if we get some advice from the Caucus students, this is the product of our minds and skills. Not theirs."
You are now quiet on Public.
"Because, Vanya, people are born into certain things. Place is decided by it. You can't go against it. There has to be some innate qualities..." He seems about ready to go on, but the hand to his arm silences any further argument on the topic. That hand is eyed warily. "Look. We do need to be careful on what bounds might be overstepped. We should talk to Caucus. And to Roa - she was the one who you'd mentioned, right?" And H'kon looks sobered, somewhat. "We should talk to her again, maybe."
From afar, H'kon gahs! His arguments are painfully... bad. *shudders* The academic in me is reeling.
Vanya's hand remains on his arm. "Maybe some things need to just be done, not debated," she says slowly. "Maybe it's time people just did things. I'm not under the jurisdiction of the Caucus. I'm a Journeyman, like you said, and this /is/ research in my field of special interest. I was only suggesting we might consider asking some of the Caucus students because they're /supposed/ to be learning how to be the leaders of tomorrow. I don't need their approval for this." She pauses. "Now, I admit I'd like to consult with Neiran, perhaps, mainly because of his knowledge. Roa, yes, possibly, since she was the one who initially put the idea in my head for such a device. But --!" And here she gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "-- I did /not/ want you to get to thinking we're doing anything illegal or immoral or anything like that. It's just that some crafters are, well, hidebound. /Too/ hidebound for the good of the craft, in my not so humble opinion. If this device works, well, I'll fight for it. I'm not afraid to stand up for what I think is good and right, no matter the cost. Some times new ideas /work/, and /should/ be pursued."
H'kon studies Vanya carefully, cautiously moving a hand across to rest lightly on top of hers. The brownrider is quiet for a long moment, slight twitches at the corner of his mouth evidence of whatever thoughts occur. And finally, there's a slow nod. "That... makes sense. I think." He runs the tip of his tongue over the cutting edge of his front teeth. "But... So this idea isn't..." Further conflict evident on his face, nose wrinkling. "I don't... /know/ things like this. I'll do what I can, but you /must/ make sure that everything's fine otherwise." Not quite over the panic her observations had prompted, H'kon doesn't quite move to go back to the plotting. In fact, he doesn't quite move at all, looking expectantly to her.
"I will take every precaution, test every theory and make certain this works before I even allow Arekoth near it," Vanya promises. "I like Arekoth, and I wouldn't risk endangering him in any fashion, H'kon. If you believe nothing else about me, please believe that." Her words are earnest and her expression is serious. "What I was only trying to do was caution you that some people don't stop to consider facts, they merely look at things from a narrow perspective. For there to be a future, there must be people brave enough to not think about what /is/, but what /could/ be. Vision. Innovation. Inventiveness. Not hidebound people who hold others back because of blood, birth or gender." She falls silent a moment, then adds, "I earned my knot because I worked hard, and stood up for what I felt. I'm not going to stop believing in what I do because it might be unpopular."
"I didn't mean that," H'kon notes softly. His fingers twitch overtop of hers. "I know you won't hurt his leg any more than it is. I mean, if the leaders like... if anything we do goes against something it's not supposed to, I don't want part of it. I mean, like, seriously against... I mean if someone says something to you I want to know about it." His face goes a bit more stoney. "I don't doubt you earned what you've got. But blood and birth -do- have a place. The world needs order somehow."
Vanya's face relaxes. "Yes, they do, but being born to position doesn't always mean you deserve that position, either. That's something I know for a fact, believe me. My mother is blooded, but my father wasn't. She married him because she loved him, and has been punished for it ever since. Being blooded doesn't mean a person has either the knowledge or the skill to run a hold properly." She finally removes her hand, shaking her head. "Being born a woman doesn't mean you lack the intelligence needed to do something, yet look how many Crafts bar women, or allow them to advance only so far. Healercraft is one of the few where women /can/ attain master status, but even then she must work ten times harder, and is held to a higher standard than any man." Her eyes close. "Do you honestly think they'd have put me on administrative leave if I'd been a /man/?" A beat. "No, they wouldn't have. A man who sleeps around? He's just sowing wild oats. A woman? Well, she's a whore."
"It's not a just system," H'kon murmurs. "But it is necessary. At least," and H'kon is willing to give in just a little, "somewhat necessary." His own hand returns to rest on his knee, when Vanya withdraws hers. The talk of her personal experiences has the man looking distinctly uncomfortable, and his words following it are tentative: "There... are things that men are better at than women, I think. And things that women are better at then men." There's a slow, soft smile next, and his voice is almost a whisper as he pledges, "And I promise if I ever hear anyone calling you a whore, I'd make them stop. Might... might have to go get my other hand sewn up for it, but I would." An expectant glance - this time to see how an attempted joke was received.
There's a moment when Vanya's expression hovers between horror and startlement, but then it slides all the way over into amusement. "Well, I appreciate that, but I don't like the idea of anyone getting hurt in my name," she says, her own voice soft. "That's a sweet thing to say, nonetheless I hope it never comes to pass." The smile she turns on him is genuine, though, there's no doubt of that. "Be that as it may, yes, some things come easier for women than men, and vice versa -- yet, should a woman be barred from even trying if she shows talent or skill in that thing? A good example are female riders. I've yet to see one who isn't as well trained as a male rider, yet the prejudice exists, even in the weyrs. Life may not be fair, and I don't expect it to be, but there should be some way they can advance as well as a male rider." She regards H'kon for a long time. "You yourself said it a few minutes ago when you said you weren't a bronzerider. So what? Can you tell me you and Arekoth are less trained to fight Thread than any bronzerider?"
H'kon doesn't have to think on this question posed to him quite so long. "I didn't say Arekoth and I are any worse at Threadfighting. But we're different. Arekoth's not a big brown. He tires sooner than some of the bigger ones. And a green dragon's the same; won't fly so long. Doesn't mean she's not good, just means she's suited for different things. And neither me nor some greenrider are going to be Weyrleader. And a woman greenrider's never going to be Weyrwoman. Just how things are in a Weyr. I don't know much about all the crafts or holds. I've never known any woman who wants to join up with the fishercraft. And if she's not as strong on a boat, then maybe she shouldn't join, 'cause she'd put everyone else in danger." And he twitches. "I don't know about other things, but there are reasons people have to prove themselves, too. And I can't make things more fair than they already are."
Vanya still smiles, and nods. "There are reasons, /good/ reasons for everything you say, but there are always exceptions, and just because everything has been done the same way for turns, doesn't mean the exceptions should be ignored. Now, the weyr is different, yes, and I'm not saying things should change," she says, her points made calmly and quietly. "But, it would seem to me that a good weyrleader will listen to /all/ his riders, no matter what color dragon they ride. What if you have a bronzerider who is not so good at being a wingleader? What if a brownrider is better at strategy and tactics. Should the brownrider be ignored? Should his ideas and suggestions be worth less because he rides a brown and not a bronze?" She shakes her head. "It's all in how a leader uses their people to the best advantage. A brownrider may never be weyrleader, or a green a weyrwoman, but if they're useful and have good ideas, they shouldn't be ignored."
H'kon shifts forward in his seat as she continues on, almost ready to stand. "Well... that's the point of Caucus, right? To get the people who /should/ be leaders," he pauses briefly after this statement to peer at Vanya from just beneath his eyebrows, before continuing, "to know the skills of their people. But to use them -properly- right? Otherwise, you get blueriders who start to think about changing things on their own." There's a bit of a growl/grunt, as his head is given a harsh shake. "So let's stop talking about this now." That's said with a distinct finality..
"Yes, it is, which is why I thought of talking to some of the Caucus students. I'm sure both the Fishercraft and Minecraft have sent representatives, and I know the Healercraft has. So, we start talking to these future leaders, and see if we can pique some interest in the research," Vanya says, content to let the controversial subject drop. "There are new discoveries every day, and one of them might know something we don't. It never hurts to experiment, but a little judicial planning saves time and resources. You were quite right about that, H'kon. We have an idea, and what we need now is to figure out how to build it. A model will help, I'm sure. If you can build that, well, we're more than half-way home," she says with a smile.
H'kon settles a little as Vanya sums up her suggestions, leaning back into his seat, stance widening a little as whatever alert had been sounded in his brain is put aside. "Right," is said at the end. He reaches now to scratch the fingers of his right hand across his head once more. "Shards," is finally said. "My brain hurts now, you know?"
Vanya chuckles softly. "Well, I've been told I talk much," she says, gathering the hides together and stacking them neatly. "I'm sorry to go off on such a tangent. I did't mean to start a debate on reorganizing the planet." She smiles almost embarrassed at the rider. "Next time, just stuff a glove in my mouth or something." There's a bit of a sparkle in her eyes as she looks over at H'kon. "How's Arekoth doing, by the way? I should, I suppose, go over there an check on him, but it's nice in here. Warm and quiet." She looks out over the empty sands. "I just wish there was a clutch of eggs on the sands. It doesn't matter which queen rises first -- though my preference is, naturally, Sinopa -- just as long as one rises soon. I think people will be a lot more settled and happy when there're new leaders in place."
"You do talk a lot," H'kon admits, not unhappily. "You got me going too, for a while," the man adds with a little bit of a blush beneath the stubbly beard. "I will do my best to bring a spare glove with me." His eyes flutter closed, and he gets a bit of a smirk on his face. "Arekoth is doing well. He doesn't mind if you want to wait here longer." He glances quickly to the sands next, and then to Vanya. "No more talk about leaders."
"All right, no more talk about leaders," Vanya agrees, settling back in her seat and even going so far as to prop her booted feet up on the row of seats in front of her. She doesn't say anything for a long time, letting her head rest on the back of her seat, folding her hands on her abdomen. Then, "How's the hand? Caused you any pain or discomfort since it was stitched up?" she inquires. "If so, you'd best be getting yourself back down to the Infirmary, or else." The warning is said in a friendly voice, but she leaves the "or else" up to his own interpretation.
H'kon finds himself leaned forward once more, again propping his elbows on his knees. He allows his head to hang, eyes closed for a moment merely for the rest than for any thought or debate. "It hurts a little," drifts up from the bowed head. "I tried working up a pair of straps this morning... and that was probably bad." His shoulders twitch in something of a shrug. "I think I'm overdue for getting bandages changed. But I'll just go after we're done with Arekoth."
"I can take a look, if you like," Vanya offers, opening her eyes, but not making a move to sit up. She won't force the issue, if H'kon prefers to take his injury back to the Infirmary. "You shouldn't over-do it, no, and let it heal a bit before trying anything really strenuous. Exercise is good, but you don't want to risk tearing the stitches." She still doesn't move, but shifts her head to one side to regard the rider. "If you want to keep busy, I suggest something like your knitting. It will keep your fingers flexible without straining the palm."
H'kon looks over his shoulder to the healer, hesitates a moment, and then turns to sit somewhat sideways, one leg pulling up onto the seat with him. "I was just getting bored," he notes. "I did some knitting," and he nods to the toque. "But I ran out of wool. And the straps needed fixing." The hand is then held out to the healer, palm-upward. His fingers are straightened to make the wound more accessible. "I should get to be back on duty though, so it won't be so bad."
Vanya sits up then, reaching for the hand. With expert movements, she unwraps the bandage, careful to note any sign of putrefaction on the cloth. Examining the wound doesn't take long, and she seems pleased by what she sees. "Looks good," she remarks, lightly touching the skin around the stitches, probing gently and checking for discoloration and redness. "You've managed not to tear the stitches, and it appears to be healing well." Then she leans forward, bringing H'kon's hand to her nose, sniffing. "No sign of infection I can see or smell, which is very good." She sits up, nodding. "Get them to change the dressing, yes, but the stitches won't come out for at least another few days, I'd say. Once that happens, you'll still need to keep the hand clean and not use it without some kind of protection over the wound."
H'kon watches as Vanya does this, looking almost embarrassed for her praise of the healing. "Arekoth helped. Keeps helping." He has to laugh just a little as she sniffs it. "I'll go to the infirmary after you help Arekoth," he repeats. The leg that is up on the seat threatens to fall, and he readjusts it with his right hand, seeing as the left is otherwise occupied. "So just like bandages still? To protect it? Later?"
Vanya works on re-bandaging the hand, careful to make sure it isn't wrapped too tight. "Yes, or later on, maybe a glove. My old instructor used to recommend cloth gloves with the fingers cut off. That way, the fingers are free, but the palm is still protected." She re-ties the cloth, then returns his hand to him. "The main thing is to keep the wound clean, even after it looks as if it's healed. By that, I mean washing it at least once a day, and keeping it protected for at least a couple of seven days. At that point, it's likely as healed as it's going to get." She sits back again, smiling. "You're lucky. It was a clean cut. Could have been much worse."
"A glove." He settles his heand in his lap, still, for the time, keeping his leg up, and his torso twisted toward Vanya. "That's a long time to be wearing a glove," he notes. "I don't think Arekoth will remember it that long," is added with a touch of humour. Remembering himself more full, legs is dropped from the bench, and he sits facing forward again, eyes falling to the empty sands.
"Well, it won't be Arekoth who's wearing it, will it?" Vanya remarks with a soft chuckle. "Besides, the time will pass quickly, I've no doubt. You just have to be careful, not stop doing everything. Be aware of your hand and take care of it. Once it's fully healed, you shouldn't have any trouble with it." She grins at him, turning her own head back to regard the sands. "It's peaceful in here, you know? I like to come here and read, or play my gittern. Only rarely have I seen anyone else in here, though I'm sure it's crowded during clutching and hatching." She sighs. "I've never seen either one of those. I hope to someday."
H'kon shakes his head, a touch of a smile gracing his face, even if it's that awkward one. "Arekoth is probably the reason the stitches aren't pulled out." He's started to trace over the cut, against the bandages, again, chewing a few bits of dried skin off his lips. "The first Hatching I got to go to was the one where Arekoth found me," is murmured after some thought. "I don't think it's the same, watching it up here as it is down there."
"You know, I have some lip balm that will help that," Vanya says, watching H'kon chewing his lips from the corner of her eyes. "It's very good, and I use it myself during winter, or if I'm going to be out in the wind. It has no color and no particular flavor, though there is a bit of mint in it for the healing properties." She grins. "There's also lotion for hands and salves that will help wind burned skin. Would you like to try some?" she offers generously. "I'll be having to make more up, soon, but I still have a bit left."
H'kon's lips are tucked in, mouth turning into only a line on his face. There's a shake of his head, before he's willing to free his lips from hiding to offer, "They're fine as they are." His hands are flexed next, and he peers to them. "The hands are fine, too," is added to this. His shoulders tuck in almost defensively. A slight wince at a mental jab prompts, "I mean, thank you. For offering. Your... mint."
"You really don't much care for medicines, do you, H'kon?" Vanya remarks. It's mostly a rhetorical question, but she turns her head slightly. "I mean, I'm not upset, it's just that I've noticed your wariness when I mention things like lotions, liniment, tea -- any herbal concoction that might remotely resemble something medicinal." She sounds more curious than anything else, really. "They really aren't harmful, you know, and not at all girly. Many riders use the lip balm to protect their lips from chapping in winter." She chuckles. "I get the impression you really don't trust healers all that much." A beat. "Not that many people do, really. I mean why trust someone who's going to cause them pain in the name of curing them." Some touch of bitterness there, but not aimed at H'kon.
"It's not..." H'kon has to pause, eyes closing for consultation, as he attempts to find a less harsh way of wording his thoughts. "I don't distrust healers. Or medicines." He looks directly to Vanya now, this time tracing the lines of the bandages with his fingers, rather than the cut beneath them. "But if they aren't necessary... then they're a waste." His head cants a little, and he attempts further explanation with, "I don't need soft lips. And soft hands will actually be worse."
"Do you like the taste of blood when your lips crack?" Vanya asks, her brows lift. "I've had chapped lips, and they're painful. It's not just to soften your lips, H'kon, but to alleviate the pain. I don't consider it a waste at all, if it helps." She shakes her head gently. "Soft hands? No -- but skin that's abraded by wind and cold can crack just like dragon hide. Oiling your dragon prevents that, right? So, just think of it like oiling your own skin," she reasons. "I use it, and you wouldn't exactly call my hands Lady Holder soft, would you?" She holds out a hand, and there are a few rough places on her fingertips. "I play a stringed instrument, you see, and calluses are inevitable."
H'kon looks a bit affronted as she fires off those questions and comparisons to him, and finds himself almost stuttering over his response. "It's... I... don't mind it. They don't hurt too much, either." His lips are licked, self-consciously now. "Usually have gloves on anyone. They don't get too cold or cracked by the wind..." And now he straightens his shoulders, sits up straight, and turns to her. "How come you try so hard to get me to put mint on myself and my dragon?"
Vanya blinks. "Because it will help?" she says, taken slightly aback. "Why do you worry about it?" she shoots back. "I don't have any ulterior motives, H'kon. It's not always the mint, either. It's the salve itself. Mint generally makes the more odious concoctions smell better, is all, and helps draw it into the skin. Faranth, why are you so suspicious of me? I was only offering, and I wasn't offended you didn't want it. You made it sound frivolous, though, and that's why I pointed out what I did." She sighs. "All right, this is another subject best dropped. Sorry."
"Well, mint or not... you say it's not frivolous, but people got by fine without that kind of stuff before," H'kon points out. "I'm not suspicious," he adds. "I just don't... get it, I guess. You're always pushing something new every time I see you. Maybe it is best to drop it." And he looks away from her. His upper lip is chewed this time, the lower having been mostly cleared already of skin-bits. "I didn't mean it like I don't trust you," is apologised now. "I just don't like..." And that's replaced with, "Sorry."
"You don't like ... what?" Vanya asks, her voice quiet. "You might as well tell me, H'kon, that way I'll know what /not/ to do. If we're going to work together, then I need to know what will and won't upset you. If I'm constantly upsetting you -- and I'm not saying you sound upset -- then we'll get no where. I just happened to notice you chewing on the dried skin of your lips, and mentioned the balm. It was a suggestion, not a demand. I don't force things on anyone unless it's something serious."
H'kon is quiet for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line once more. His hands are clasped together before him, and he shakes his head. "It's probably just that I'm restless," the brownrider finally admits. "Even I can't just knit all day." He gives a bit of a snort now, shaking his head, and rubbing his beard against either shoulder. "We should probably go see to Arekoth. He'll be a dragon sponge by now."
"Perhaps that would be best," Vanya agrees, rising. "I'll join you as soon as I grab something warm to drink, how's that? I didn't get a chance to eat dinner, but that can wait." She picks up the sketches and hands them to H'kon. "Here, you keep these and see what you can come up with for a model. That should help a bit in the restless department. I'll grab you something while I'm in the living cavern and see you in the hot springs." She grabs her jacket, putting it on and buttoning it up the front. Scarf and gloves are added as proof against the snow and cold outside. "Shouldn't take me all that long. See you shortly," she says, making her way down the stairs and out of the Galleries.