Walking & Talking
IC Date: Day 26, Month 8, Turn 3, 7th Pass
Players: H'kon, Vanya
Location: Road Outside the Weyr
Synopsis: H'kon decides he's waited long enough to have a chat with Vanya, so he takes matters into his own hands and meets her on the road back to the weyr. They talk -- again mostly at cross purposes. (NOTE: This scene is actually forward-dated to the end of Vanya's next circuit.)
Road to High Reaches Weyr,
Afternoon
The road to High Reaches Weyr passes into a tunnel that is tall and wide enough to accommodate tithe wagons driven two abreast. Glowbaskets are stationed at regular intervals along the smooth rock of the walls, keeping the darkness at bay. Near the exit to the bowl, a narrow tunnel branches off. This side tunnel leads up to the Weyr's lower caverns and is suitable only for foot traffic.
It is currently late summer. It's a clear summer day and the sky above is a canvas of pristine blue brushed with wisps of white. It's not quite hot but the sun is bright enough to give that illusion.
The late summer has brought with it a pleasant enough day for traveling, though Vanya is tired enough to be glad she's on the last leg of her circuit. Having left the Darkwater cothold that morning, she's only a few miles from High Reaches Weyr and will see home by sunset. The runner and pack animal are behaving themselves; perhaps both recognize their stalls and food are waiting. The sky overhead is a beautiful shade of blue, not too many clouds. The only thing she can see up there is a dragon, a brown, from the looks of it. She lifts a hand to shade her eyes, but he's too far up to really recognize dragon or rider. The runner, as if sensing draconic nearness, tosses its head, which brings Vanya's attention back to earth, since the thought of a fall right now is not to her liking. And, besides, the animal settles down as the road winds its way back into a forested area, not too far from the cut off which leads up to the waterfall. For a moment, she's tempted to make a side trip, but decides against it at the last second. No sense in reliving old memories in that place. That just leads to more problems.
The dragon overhead is indeed a brown; one who slows his flight as he moves overtop the figure of a woman on the path. Vanya surely can't see it, but those mutli-faceted eyes seem to whirl with a changed focus, and, at a silent mental word given, this dragon makes to turn around, spiraling down toward the earth. It will be a ways yet, until the road is wide enough for the winged beast to have landed, before Vanya's trek homeward is interrupted. And when it is, it is not by the brown, out of courtesy to the runner, but rather by a short, if broad-shouldered, man standing, arms crossed, in the middle of the road, and wearing a stern enough expression on his face. An expression of intent, albeit an intent that has him looking not fully pleased.
The first expression on Vanya's face is surprise. The runner snorts, doing a sort of sideways dance across the road, but she hauls back on the reins and soon has the mare under control. She doesn't say anything for a few moments, simply staring -- a little dumbstruck, to be honest -- at the lone rider blocking her path. The runner, quite naturally, isn't too comfortable with this new human, especially since he smells like dragon, and drags at the reins to let this be known -- or to try and reach that tasty looking grass on the roadside. Either way, Vanya lets the reins slip a little looser, and when the runner doesn't seem ready to bolt, she prepares to dismount. "H'kon." There's no real emotion in the name; in fact, neither pleasure nor displeasure, concern nor doubt. She dusts off the legs of her trousers, then turns to pull a waterskin from off her saddle. Taking a large swig, she wipes her mouth, and turns back to the rider. "There any particular reason you're standing in the middle of the road looking like you're ready to bite someone's head off, or is this just a coincidence?"
H'kon's head lifts, watching the runner's dance more than that of the woman controlling it. Even after the healer has dismounted, he's still watching that beast. Things that are foreign always catch one's eye. The greeting, however, brings a sideways twist of his mouth; nearly a smirk, though without any readable emotion behind it - except perhaps detached amusement. His shoulders roll back, stretching out, and all the while taking full advantage of the width of his frame. "I will not wait any longer." Simple statement of fact.
Well, that was certainly succinct. "Very well," she says, the reins still dangling from her hands as she offers the waterskin to him. "Want some? It's cool. Just refilled it from a stream down the road a piece." She isn't particularly upset, and seems almost calmer than his tone might expect. "Do you want to walk while I ride, both of us walk, or should I just plan on this taking a while and stop? Of course the latter means I likely won't get back to the weyr before sunset." But, she gives a shrug, and lets the runner and the pack animal browse amongst the grass at the side of the road without pulling them away. Obviously, she means this to be H'kon's decision.
H'kon shakes his head, a look, almost of annoyance, sent to the skin. Not to Vanya. "Perhaps it would be best to stop." Now he twists, peering behind him, down the road toward the weyr, and then, looking forward again, down the road from which Vanya came. "Wherever you see fit to stop, though there is room here." And his tone suggests he's not particularly wanting to take too long finding a good spot to take this repose. "Hopefully I will not keep you long."
Vanya gives a shrug, leading the runner and pack animal off the road a short distance, tying both of them to a tree limb with enough reins for them to be able to graze. "Here's fine," she says, dropping to the ground beneath another tree next to that one. "What's on your mind?" Still no animosity, no real emotion behind the question. In fact, Vanya seems rather complacent. She stretches her legs out in front of herself and leans back against the tree, relaxing. "Feels good to take a break. Been riding since around dawn." She removes the hat from her head, and lays it beside her, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She's waiting, since it's obvious H'kon has something to say.
H'kon follows after her, hesitating after Vanya has sat down, and only, after some sort of internal dispute, sitting down himself. Close enough to her to seem friendly enough (despite that maintained frown on his face), but certainly not with the proximity reserved for a lover. He sits rigidly, his legs crossed, his hands rested on his knees, though the muscles along his arms (bared in the summer warmth) are seen to twitch now and again. Her comment on the break is acknowledged with a nod. And then the floor is seemingly his, and, gaze turning downward quickly, he gathers his thoughts. The brownrider does look back up to Vanya when he speaks, and those pale eyes make a point of seeking hers out. "Tell me what it is you want from me."
Vanya doesn't answer for a long time. When she does speak, it's in the same calm, composed tone of voice as before. "Respect, friendship, companionship," she replies after that long silence. "Nothing you haven't been willing to give so far." She shrugs, then, reaching down to pull a blade of grass from the grown, study it for a few minutes. "Why? What do you think I want?"
H'kon considers the woman's answer for some time, looking idly off to the side, as one distracted. The plucking of the grass is observed. His arms have not ceased in their tensing fidgets. "Define companionship." Eyes on Vanya again. The question to him is ignored for the time, it would seem. There are things the man needs to understand, first.
"Someone to talk to and with," Vanya answers immediately, as if she might have anticipated the question. "Someone to share news with, to share problems with, someone to be with. Doesn't have to be a lover, doesn't have to even be deep friendship. Just needs to be someone you can trust."
H'kon's head sets to nodding. The movements are not over-emphasised - if anything he doesn't accord each one its full length - but there's a frequency to it that surely suggests unrest. The motion continues as her words are processed, stopping only when his brows are drawn down in a scowl. "And you say I give you this?"
"Most of the time," Vanya says, letting her own head loll back against the tree. Her eyes close for a moment. "You mostly listen, which is frustrating at times -- though I admit it's nice to know someone who will listen and not say anything." A pause. "Only it makes for a lousy conversation, when only one person talks. You never know what /they/ are thinking, what they feel about things, opinions and so on. There's no exchange, just one person talking while the other person sits there."
H'kon's mouth opens instinctively for a quick protest, but is wrestled closed before any possibly detrimental words might come out. Instead, a nod is given to her comments - just one this time - and surely they're filed away for later use. "And you want nothing beyond companionship from me. You want no deeper feelings on my part or yours." These aren't quite posed as questions; he's simply seeking verification to the statements.
There's no answer to this. Not for several minutes. "I don't know, H'kon," Vanya says, and there's a hint of weariness in her voice now. A hand reaches up and rubs at her eyes, perhaps smearing a bit of the dust on her face. "I can't really answer that one way or another. There're too many variables." She shakes her head, letting her hand drop into her lap, as she opens her eyes to watch the rider. "I know you're not E'sere, so we don't need to rehash that." A pause. "Ever burn yourself bad enough you think twice, even three or four times before you let yourself get even close to a fire again? Ever been hurt so badly by someone you trust that you're not willing to let down your guard even for a short while?" She knows he has, since he's told her some about his mother. "Just look at it that way. I can't go back to being closed up, but neither can I ... I can't forget what happened to me."
These quiet minutes are enough to have the brownrider moving from a mindset of dogged inquiry toward a more wary consideration. He turns his head so he isn't facing her fully, examining her anew from the corners of his eyes. A twitch of expression here or there hints at something more sympathetic, something softer. A cautious assessment. When she speaks, even, this expression doesn't leave his face fully. The questions are taken as rhetorical. "Fine." It isn't said harshly. It continues in the spirit of assessment. "You seem sometimes to let it have firmer hold than it deserves. And... there are times when I would -like- to tell you more. But accept that it is as a means of giving you what you want that I do not." And here, the brownrider is uncrossing his legs, moving up onto one knee, the foot of the opposite leg flat on the ground, bent, ready to push him upward. "I am not with you for the convenience of it. I am not certain how much sway I wish this mistake of a bronzerider," he can't help but put some emphasis on the consonants there, "to have over my life still. But until then, I do not wish to be caught in such a situation. So that is why. And if that is not enough, then perhaps best we end it." And he stands.
Vanya listens to what H'kon has to say, and then she nods. "I don't want you hurt, either, H'kon," she finally says, voice a little tired sounding. "And, most of the time I don't let E'sere affect me that much. It's just that I --" She turns her own head aside, looking off down the road toward the weyr. "I gave myself to him. I believe him, I loved him. I believe /in/ him. I'd never had anyone treat me as he did. He listened to me, and he taught me to dance, and he --" She stops talking, and bites her lower lip for a moment before almost growling out, "Don't you think I haven't kicked myself a million times for letting the memory of what he did manipulate me as much as the man did? Don't you know that I've tried and tried and tried to forget, to move on? Faranth knows the cost of me loving him was dear enough! I just -- I can't forget what he did. There was no closure, H'kon." And her hands ball into fists. "And even though he hurt me and a lot of other people, I --" She stops, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't have it in me to wish him harm. That's ... that's just the way I am. I don't want to hurt people."
H'kon had himself braced for something other than this. There's a distinguishable wince at the tone she uses, and any defensive positioning in him is gone. "Vanya." The name itself is laced with concern, and perhaps a degree more of understanding. The brownrider has dropped to one knee, but this time it's right up close to Vanya. And his hands are grabbing for those fists, in as comforting a manner as they can. If she'll let him, he means to bring his own hands together around hers. Properly cover them, as best he can. "Perhaps there does not need to be harm. But it is done, and he is gone, and all that /is/ over. Surely there... has been change." He's scrambling now. "You... why not just allow yourself to move on? Sharing is not so hard for you, surely. You have told me..." Faltering.
Vanya doesn't resist the offer of comfort, but neither does she stop clenching her fists. "I know, H'kon. Don't think I don't know what I'm doing. I /should/ move on. I should be able to stand up, give my head a toss and just go on with life -- but I can't, don't you see? Look at what I have left of my life, and you'll see why it's there in my face each and every day. I'm a healer, and the Hall doesn't have any faith in my ability to heal anymore. If they did, they wouldn't have removed me from my posting. Look at what loving E'sere cost me, and try to see that I'm reminded of him /daily/. If I seek another posting elsewhere, it just means I --" Her eyes close again. "It means I failed. I didn't do anything wrong, H'kon, but I was punished right along with E'sere and Aivey for ... for doing nothing more than falling in love with the wrong man." And she takes a breath, biting hard on her lip. "I knew I was worthless, but I let him convince me I ... I wasn't. I should have known anyone who would say they loved me was lying."
H'kon shifts a bit closer, until his upraised knee is positioned rather near the healer's shoulder, a sort of reassurance, should she collapse, perhaps. Or simply a means to be closer, so that her hands - fists - might be brought in toward his chest. He's leaned over a bit, peering at the woman with that same concern on his face, jaw occasionally moving with thoughts of possible comforts, but never enough to actually bring his mouth open. "No, if..." A quick huff of air through his nose. "You... if you speak of trust, then trust /me/. Vanya." This time, the name is an attempt to rouse her to awareness. "I... If you were worthless, then I would not spend the time. I - do you understand?" The tone, the look in his eye, can't deny that it's more a question of self-doubt than of her mental capacities. "Don't look to be posted elsewhere. You're on your way already, you have said it yourself, for the Weyr. And..." another flustered exhalation, "if you wish to trust, then trust me." Repeated words, but said differently. "It... would be different."
Her eyes remain closed, but Vanya doesn't pull away. She listens, that much is obvious. "I'm tired, H'kon," she finally admits. "I'm just so ... tired. It's been a long circuit this time. Three children at one cothold had colic from eating too unripe fruit, and one of the hands at the first hold broke his wrist, and --" She swallows. "I was just looking forward to being back at the weyr where I could --" She stops, moistens her lips. "I was going to find you and see if we could talk." Her eyes reopen and she looks at him, her hands finally relaxing from the fists they formed. "I want to trust you, H'kon. I really do. It's just that I've lost so much this past turn, I'm afraid of losing even more. If I lose anything more, I -- I don't think I can --" And there she just stops.
H'kon takes advantage of the opening of those hands, adjusting his grip so that his fingers slide within hers. Holding her hands now, rather than simply holding onto them. His voice goes soft, and he doesn't take his eyes from her. "Well I cannot promise what I do not know." Sincere. "And beyond what I have said, I do not know." Earnest. "But it /would/ be different." And here, he transfers both her hands to one of his, the now-freed arm going to wrap around the woman's back. "Come." Though he himself isn't sure whether it's an invitation into an embrace, or an invitation to help her up.
Vanya is almost too weary to resist, but there's a look of complete and utter confusion on her face. "What do you mean, H'kon? What will be different? I'm not following this conversation." She doesn't try to get up, so hopefully he's wanting to embrace her. Although, if the rider uses that upper body power, he can pull her upright. "This is part of our problem. /You/ know what you're trying to say, but /I/ don't. Sometimes it's like you talk in half-finished statements, like you know what you mean, know what you're saying, but most of it stays inside your head and doesn't come out your mouth." She shakes her head. "I cannot read your mind like Arekoth can. I wish I could. It would simplify matters considerably."
H'kon is able to hide a frustrated expression by, indeed, hugging Vanya up against his chest. He doesn't push for her to stand, maintaining his balance in that one-knee'd kneel. "I am sorry," comes easier than an immediate explanation. "It is usually only Arekoth that I will speak with on such things." Hesitation brings further stalling. "Do not think you must pay attention to this now." Again, he waits. Organising his thoughts. Rubbing his hand quickly over Vanya's back. "I have told you I do not share some things with you, to avoid the risk of this going serious. But if it were... if you would allow it, and be with me -only me - I do not doubt it could. And that would be different than what you have had. That was not... honest. But nevermind," he's quick to ammend. "We can... go back. If you like, I will walk with you."
There's a moment when Vanya simply doesn't say anything. What can she say to that? "H'kon, are you ... is that what you want from me?" she finally asks. "Is that why we can't --" She stops, pushing slightly back from the man, trying to look him in the face now. "I don't ... know what to say." The healer is truly baffled by this. "I don't know if --" She shakes her head. "No, no -- I cannot do this. I need to think and I'm --" She stops again, her hands still held in H'kon's. "I need to think and I'm just too tired. I want to be thinking very clearly before we get into this any deeper. What you're saying --" She stops again, looking at him straight on. "Yes ... walk with me. Let me get home, take a bath, eat, relax. I don't want to make a mistake we'll both regret."
"Why we can't?" H'kon's turn, now, to be at a loss as to what Vanya is thinking. As she continues on talking, however, the man's face goes a bit pale. Even with the beard to cover it. "Nevermind," is repeated. There is no attempt to prevent her pushing away from him, and he isn't quite inspired to give further explanation. He gets to his feet, pulling Vanya up with him, and then promptly releasing her. The palor has been replaced by a flush to his cheeks as he turns to look at something of particular interest on the road. "Whenever you're ready to set out, then. If I can help with either of the beasts?" A twitch of his chin toward the two, tethered to that tree.
Vanya steadies herself against the tree with one hand, reaching down for her hat. She looks at H'kon for a long moment, then simply says, "Why we can't understand one another." Turning then to look at the beasts, she nods toward the pack animal. "If you'll lead him, I'll handle the mare. She doesn't like the scent of dragon on you. It scares her." Simple enough explanation. There's a glance to the sky, judging the time, most likely. "We should be back to the weyr a little after sundown, I'm guessing." She doesn't seem to be bothered by this. "It'll be nice to have company for the trip. It does get lonely out here."
H'kon sets to untying that burden beast, according him a distrustful look (which is surely returned, to the extent that it can be), and then attempting a few steps. Docile, the animal follows, and the dragonrider is reassured. "Right. Best get going, anyway. Nothing tonight, but drills tomorrow. We fly thread soon. And the last fall did not go well for the Weyr." A little frown, and then he's turning to Vanya, anxious for the walking to get underway. Awkward situations - or at least those that were recently awkward - call for movement.
Walking is good. It actually feels good after riding for all those hours, and Vanya is in good shape. She sets a pace which is easy for all of them, humans and animals. "You don't have to do this, H'kon," she says after about a half-mile. "I can handle them by myself, if you'd rather head on back to the weyr." But then she remembers what he said about the last 'fall, and takes a deep breath. "How bad was it?" The question is asked reluctantly, as if she's afraid to hear the answer.
The suggestion that he go ahead back to the Weyr brings the slightest grinding of his teeth. A distraction, even when dealing in bad threadfall, is welcome. "Four," the brownrider replies, tone somber, shoulders hunching a little for the report. "We lost four. And then there were injuries, among riders and groundcrew." A sidelong glance, and he adds, "My wing did not fly."
Vanya nods, and there's a bit of relief in her expression. "I'm glad it wasn't worse," she says, voice quiet. "It didn't fall anywhere near where I was, so thankfully there were no Thread scores to deal with." She's quiet for a moment, the only sound on the road that of footsteps and the animals. There's a pleasant breeze, at least, and the runner seems to have calmed down or grown used to H'kon's presence, even with the dragon scent on him. "I wasn't meaning I wanted you to leave," she says after a lengthy silence. "I just didn't want you to feel you /had/ to stay with me. I don't ever want anyone to feel they're forced to endure my company. I know I'm not always the easiest person to ... to be around. I'm ... I can be moody."
H'kon glances up as they walk, catching the occasional glimpse of Arekoth circling, high enough overhead to avoid spooking the runner, his mental link to H'kon not requiring a low survey flight to keep track of the progress being made along the road. When Vanya speaks, H'kon turns to her, frowning a little as the explanation goes along, and soon looking back to the ground where he's about to tread. "I would think I have made it obvious enough that I wish to be around you." A bit of a bite to the comment, yes, but surely his point can't be easily missed. Further reassurance is held back; again, H'kon is on the defensive.
Suitably chastized, Vanya doesn't offer much of anything else on the subject. A simple nod, and that's it. She goes back to being quiet, just walking along, occasionally glancing to the side of the road. It goes like this for at least a mile, with the extinct volcano that houses High Reaches Weyr looming ever closer on the horizon. The sun remains high in the sky, and it's only an hour or so after they begin the walk that Vanya even attempts to continue the conversation. "Does it have to be all or nothing, H'kon?" The question is softly asked, in an almost tired tone of voice. "Can't we go on being the way we are? I'm not trying to pry when I ask you questions about yourself or your family. It's only because I'm interested. I don't /have/ to ask those questions. I just -- you say you like me sharing my thoughts with you, but if I want you to do the same, it has to be serious between us. Why is that? Why must we --" A pause. "Why is it all or nothing?"
The first quarter of that hour is certainly a tense one for H'kon, half-expecting some sort of awkward or uncomfortable conversation. The brownrider settles in after a time, eased by the rhythmic footfalls of people and beasts alike, and surely also by the dragon circling lazily overhead. An hour of unladen flight isn't especially taxing on Arekoth, and he has remained in the air the entire time. When Vanya speaks, it startles the man, a bit of a jump heralding the wide-eyed look over to the healer. "All or... I didn't say it had to be that way, Vanya." The bit of leather with which he leads that beast is turned awkwardly between his hands. "I... Only, if I wanted just a friend, then there would be far easier ways to go about it. And sex is easy enough to find in the lower caverns, even for me." H'kon is well aware he's not the romantic type that the girls flock to.
Now it's Vanya's turn to look a little startled. "But ... that's what you made it sound like," she protests. "I heard you say it would be different if we were exclusive, if I saw no one else besides you. It sounded like that's what you wanted from me." She looks over at him, then back down at the road. "Apparently, we don't speak the same language," she finally says after a moment of silence. "I hear what I think you're saying, but then I'm wrong. If you would come out and tell me what you want from me, it would make this a lot easier. Is it that you want me to see you and only you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"No, you didn't misunderstand me. Just... it doesn't /have/ to be like that. If you would rather it... It's not important, Vanya. I should not have said. Only you made it sound as if you were... I just had the means to prove that you were underestimating your worth." A tug is given to the lead - that poor creature having to increase his pace over a few steps to keep up with H'kon, who has taken to walking a bit faster. "I will not say I won't want it. But it is not a necessity. And it should not have been said, anyway."
Vanya is quiet again, apparently deep in thought. "You would /want/ me to be with you as a ... as a weyrmate?" she asks, as if this is the most incredible thing she's ever heard. "I ... that's so hard for me to believe," she blurts. Perhaps not the most diplomatic thing to say, no, but she's never been known for tact when she's flabbergasted. Which she seems to be. "Even knowing what problems I have, you'd /want/ that with me?" It startles her so much she stops dead in her tracks, the runner actually moving past her until it reaches the end of the reins. "Not that that's a bad thing, but -- I'm just -- I wouldn't think anyone would -- not after --" And then she simply stops trying to talk. The runner turns to whicker at her, reminding her that home isn't far away, and there's a nice bag of oats waiting for her.
H'kon stops, too, once it's become apparent that Vanya won't be immediately resuming the pace. "Well it would not have to be called that," the dragonrider notes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times before he's settled. And then his hand sets to wringing away at that strip of leather he's holding. His own burden beast isn't quite so anxious to be home, though it emulates the brownrider, occasionally suffling its feet. "When I see you without that - then, more than..." He finally lifts his shoulders in a shrug, helpless, and sets to looking down the road himself, equally anxious to go as that mare.
"See me without -- what?" Vanya asks, still stopped, despite the urging from her mare. "When you don't finish things like that, I don't know what you're about to say. I try to read between the lines, but I'm not very good at that. Interpersonal relationships aren't a specialty of mine, in case you haven't figured that out." She glances again at the sky, perhaps finally catching sight of Arekoth in one of his passes. "Just once I wish we could say what we mean without confusing one another," she says, almost wistfully. "You get frustrated and clam up. I get frustrated and don't know when to shut up. There's /got/ to be a point where we can meet at least halfway. There simply /has/ to be."
"Without that whole E'sere thing hanging over you." This is pushed out quickly, as if to dupe that instinct to cut off when getting to near to a true thought by the sheer speed of the words. "You seem happier," he is willing to admit. "And when you question yourself it is... it does not seem right." Again, he shifts from foot to foot. But he will say nothing, waiting for Vanya to be ready to move toward the Weyr again.
"Oh." It's a small word, and spoken very softly. "I ... yes, I understand what you mean," she adds, taking a couple of steps forward before pausing again. "I ..." A pause, then, "There are times I think I'm ready to set it all aside, ready to move on, but then something happens to slam my face in the mud and remind me. Someone will look at me and smirk, or sneer, or ask if I'm not the one who --" She breaks off. "It doesn't happen as often as it did, but it still happens. I try, H'kon. I really do."
H'kon seems relieved at the initial expression of understanding, and even more so as Vanya starts to walk. He's just got the animal be's leading moving again when the healer has paused, and all must once more come to a halt. "Well... I suppose nothing much can be done for other people." Now he hesitates, studying her for a moment, that more sympathetic, softer expression hinted at, though not fully realised. "If you will let me, I will do what I can to help," is finally offered. Then a firm nod in the direction of the road. "We will be back late if we do not continue." It's evident that H'kon has had his fill of walking and talking, and they are close enough to the Weyr now that the rest of the journey can be completed in a comfortable enough silence, both Vanya and H'kon sharing in the decision to keep more serious discussion for a later time.
Players: H'kon, Vanya
Location: Road Outside the Weyr
Synopsis: H'kon decides he's waited long enough to have a chat with Vanya, so he takes matters into his own hands and meets her on the road back to the weyr. They talk -- again mostly at cross purposes. (NOTE: This scene is actually forward-dated to the end of Vanya's next circuit.)
Road to High Reaches Weyr,
Afternoon
The road to High Reaches Weyr passes into a tunnel that is tall and wide enough to accommodate tithe wagons driven two abreast. Glowbaskets are stationed at regular intervals along the smooth rock of the walls, keeping the darkness at bay. Near the exit to the bowl, a narrow tunnel branches off. This side tunnel leads up to the Weyr's lower caverns and is suitable only for foot traffic.
It is currently late summer. It's a clear summer day and the sky above is a canvas of pristine blue brushed with wisps of white. It's not quite hot but the sun is bright enough to give that illusion.
The late summer has brought with it a pleasant enough day for traveling, though Vanya is tired enough to be glad she's on the last leg of her circuit. Having left the Darkwater cothold that morning, she's only a few miles from High Reaches Weyr and will see home by sunset. The runner and pack animal are behaving themselves; perhaps both recognize their stalls and food are waiting. The sky overhead is a beautiful shade of blue, not too many clouds. The only thing she can see up there is a dragon, a brown, from the looks of it. She lifts a hand to shade her eyes, but he's too far up to really recognize dragon or rider. The runner, as if sensing draconic nearness, tosses its head, which brings Vanya's attention back to earth, since the thought of a fall right now is not to her liking. And, besides, the animal settles down as the road winds its way back into a forested area, not too far from the cut off which leads up to the waterfall. For a moment, she's tempted to make a side trip, but decides against it at the last second. No sense in reliving old memories in that place. That just leads to more problems.
The dragon overhead is indeed a brown; one who slows his flight as he moves overtop the figure of a woman on the path. Vanya surely can't see it, but those mutli-faceted eyes seem to whirl with a changed focus, and, at a silent mental word given, this dragon makes to turn around, spiraling down toward the earth. It will be a ways yet, until the road is wide enough for the winged beast to have landed, before Vanya's trek homeward is interrupted. And when it is, it is not by the brown, out of courtesy to the runner, but rather by a short, if broad-shouldered, man standing, arms crossed, in the middle of the road, and wearing a stern enough expression on his face. An expression of intent, albeit an intent that has him looking not fully pleased.
The first expression on Vanya's face is surprise. The runner snorts, doing a sort of sideways dance across the road, but she hauls back on the reins and soon has the mare under control. She doesn't say anything for a few moments, simply staring -- a little dumbstruck, to be honest -- at the lone rider blocking her path. The runner, quite naturally, isn't too comfortable with this new human, especially since he smells like dragon, and drags at the reins to let this be known -- or to try and reach that tasty looking grass on the roadside. Either way, Vanya lets the reins slip a little looser, and when the runner doesn't seem ready to bolt, she prepares to dismount. "H'kon." There's no real emotion in the name; in fact, neither pleasure nor displeasure, concern nor doubt. She dusts off the legs of her trousers, then turns to pull a waterskin from off her saddle. Taking a large swig, she wipes her mouth, and turns back to the rider. "There any particular reason you're standing in the middle of the road looking like you're ready to bite someone's head off, or is this just a coincidence?"
H'kon's head lifts, watching the runner's dance more than that of the woman controlling it. Even after the healer has dismounted, he's still watching that beast. Things that are foreign always catch one's eye. The greeting, however, brings a sideways twist of his mouth; nearly a smirk, though without any readable emotion behind it - except perhaps detached amusement. His shoulders roll back, stretching out, and all the while taking full advantage of the width of his frame. "I will not wait any longer." Simple statement of fact.
Well, that was certainly succinct. "Very well," she says, the reins still dangling from her hands as she offers the waterskin to him. "Want some? It's cool. Just refilled it from a stream down the road a piece." She isn't particularly upset, and seems almost calmer than his tone might expect. "Do you want to walk while I ride, both of us walk, or should I just plan on this taking a while and stop? Of course the latter means I likely won't get back to the weyr before sunset." But, she gives a shrug, and lets the runner and the pack animal browse amongst the grass at the side of the road without pulling them away. Obviously, she means this to be H'kon's decision.
H'kon shakes his head, a look, almost of annoyance, sent to the skin. Not to Vanya. "Perhaps it would be best to stop." Now he twists, peering behind him, down the road toward the weyr, and then, looking forward again, down the road from which Vanya came. "Wherever you see fit to stop, though there is room here." And his tone suggests he's not particularly wanting to take too long finding a good spot to take this repose. "Hopefully I will not keep you long."
Vanya gives a shrug, leading the runner and pack animal off the road a short distance, tying both of them to a tree limb with enough reins for them to be able to graze. "Here's fine," she says, dropping to the ground beneath another tree next to that one. "What's on your mind?" Still no animosity, no real emotion behind the question. In fact, Vanya seems rather complacent. She stretches her legs out in front of herself and leans back against the tree, relaxing. "Feels good to take a break. Been riding since around dawn." She removes the hat from her head, and lays it beside her, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She's waiting, since it's obvious H'kon has something to say.
H'kon follows after her, hesitating after Vanya has sat down, and only, after some sort of internal dispute, sitting down himself. Close enough to her to seem friendly enough (despite that maintained frown on his face), but certainly not with the proximity reserved for a lover. He sits rigidly, his legs crossed, his hands rested on his knees, though the muscles along his arms (bared in the summer warmth) are seen to twitch now and again. Her comment on the break is acknowledged with a nod. And then the floor is seemingly his, and, gaze turning downward quickly, he gathers his thoughts. The brownrider does look back up to Vanya when he speaks, and those pale eyes make a point of seeking hers out. "Tell me what it is you want from me."
Vanya doesn't answer for a long time. When she does speak, it's in the same calm, composed tone of voice as before. "Respect, friendship, companionship," she replies after that long silence. "Nothing you haven't been willing to give so far." She shrugs, then, reaching down to pull a blade of grass from the grown, study it for a few minutes. "Why? What do you think I want?"
H'kon considers the woman's answer for some time, looking idly off to the side, as one distracted. The plucking of the grass is observed. His arms have not ceased in their tensing fidgets. "Define companionship." Eyes on Vanya again. The question to him is ignored for the time, it would seem. There are things the man needs to understand, first.
"Someone to talk to and with," Vanya answers immediately, as if she might have anticipated the question. "Someone to share news with, to share problems with, someone to be with. Doesn't have to be a lover, doesn't have to even be deep friendship. Just needs to be someone you can trust."
H'kon's head sets to nodding. The movements are not over-emphasised - if anything he doesn't accord each one its full length - but there's a frequency to it that surely suggests unrest. The motion continues as her words are processed, stopping only when his brows are drawn down in a scowl. "And you say I give you this?"
"Most of the time," Vanya says, letting her own head loll back against the tree. Her eyes close for a moment. "You mostly listen, which is frustrating at times -- though I admit it's nice to know someone who will listen and not say anything." A pause. "Only it makes for a lousy conversation, when only one person talks. You never know what /they/ are thinking, what they feel about things, opinions and so on. There's no exchange, just one person talking while the other person sits there."
H'kon's mouth opens instinctively for a quick protest, but is wrestled closed before any possibly detrimental words might come out. Instead, a nod is given to her comments - just one this time - and surely they're filed away for later use. "And you want nothing beyond companionship from me. You want no deeper feelings on my part or yours." These aren't quite posed as questions; he's simply seeking verification to the statements.
There's no answer to this. Not for several minutes. "I don't know, H'kon," Vanya says, and there's a hint of weariness in her voice now. A hand reaches up and rubs at her eyes, perhaps smearing a bit of the dust on her face. "I can't really answer that one way or another. There're too many variables." She shakes her head, letting her hand drop into her lap, as she opens her eyes to watch the rider. "I know you're not E'sere, so we don't need to rehash that." A pause. "Ever burn yourself bad enough you think twice, even three or four times before you let yourself get even close to a fire again? Ever been hurt so badly by someone you trust that you're not willing to let down your guard even for a short while?" She knows he has, since he's told her some about his mother. "Just look at it that way. I can't go back to being closed up, but neither can I ... I can't forget what happened to me."
These quiet minutes are enough to have the brownrider moving from a mindset of dogged inquiry toward a more wary consideration. He turns his head so he isn't facing her fully, examining her anew from the corners of his eyes. A twitch of expression here or there hints at something more sympathetic, something softer. A cautious assessment. When she speaks, even, this expression doesn't leave his face fully. The questions are taken as rhetorical. "Fine." It isn't said harshly. It continues in the spirit of assessment. "You seem sometimes to let it have firmer hold than it deserves. And... there are times when I would -like- to tell you more. But accept that it is as a means of giving you what you want that I do not." And here, the brownrider is uncrossing his legs, moving up onto one knee, the foot of the opposite leg flat on the ground, bent, ready to push him upward. "I am not with you for the convenience of it. I am not certain how much sway I wish this mistake of a bronzerider," he can't help but put some emphasis on the consonants there, "to have over my life still. But until then, I do not wish to be caught in such a situation. So that is why. And if that is not enough, then perhaps best we end it." And he stands.
Vanya listens to what H'kon has to say, and then she nods. "I don't want you hurt, either, H'kon," she finally says, voice a little tired sounding. "And, most of the time I don't let E'sere affect me that much. It's just that I --" She turns her own head aside, looking off down the road toward the weyr. "I gave myself to him. I believe him, I loved him. I believe /in/ him. I'd never had anyone treat me as he did. He listened to me, and he taught me to dance, and he --" She stops talking, and bites her lower lip for a moment before almost growling out, "Don't you think I haven't kicked myself a million times for letting the memory of what he did manipulate me as much as the man did? Don't you know that I've tried and tried and tried to forget, to move on? Faranth knows the cost of me loving him was dear enough! I just -- I can't forget what he did. There was no closure, H'kon." And her hands ball into fists. "And even though he hurt me and a lot of other people, I --" She stops, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't have it in me to wish him harm. That's ... that's just the way I am. I don't want to hurt people."
H'kon had himself braced for something other than this. There's a distinguishable wince at the tone she uses, and any defensive positioning in him is gone. "Vanya." The name itself is laced with concern, and perhaps a degree more of understanding. The brownrider has dropped to one knee, but this time it's right up close to Vanya. And his hands are grabbing for those fists, in as comforting a manner as they can. If she'll let him, he means to bring his own hands together around hers. Properly cover them, as best he can. "Perhaps there does not need to be harm. But it is done, and he is gone, and all that /is/ over. Surely there... has been change." He's scrambling now. "You... why not just allow yourself to move on? Sharing is not so hard for you, surely. You have told me..." Faltering.
Vanya doesn't resist the offer of comfort, but neither does she stop clenching her fists. "I know, H'kon. Don't think I don't know what I'm doing. I /should/ move on. I should be able to stand up, give my head a toss and just go on with life -- but I can't, don't you see? Look at what I have left of my life, and you'll see why it's there in my face each and every day. I'm a healer, and the Hall doesn't have any faith in my ability to heal anymore. If they did, they wouldn't have removed me from my posting. Look at what loving E'sere cost me, and try to see that I'm reminded of him /daily/. If I seek another posting elsewhere, it just means I --" Her eyes close again. "It means I failed. I didn't do anything wrong, H'kon, but I was punished right along with E'sere and Aivey for ... for doing nothing more than falling in love with the wrong man." And she takes a breath, biting hard on her lip. "I knew I was worthless, but I let him convince me I ... I wasn't. I should have known anyone who would say they loved me was lying."
H'kon shifts a bit closer, until his upraised knee is positioned rather near the healer's shoulder, a sort of reassurance, should she collapse, perhaps. Or simply a means to be closer, so that her hands - fists - might be brought in toward his chest. He's leaned over a bit, peering at the woman with that same concern on his face, jaw occasionally moving with thoughts of possible comforts, but never enough to actually bring his mouth open. "No, if..." A quick huff of air through his nose. "You... if you speak of trust, then trust /me/. Vanya." This time, the name is an attempt to rouse her to awareness. "I... If you were worthless, then I would not spend the time. I - do you understand?" The tone, the look in his eye, can't deny that it's more a question of self-doubt than of her mental capacities. "Don't look to be posted elsewhere. You're on your way already, you have said it yourself, for the Weyr. And..." another flustered exhalation, "if you wish to trust, then trust me." Repeated words, but said differently. "It... would be different."
Her eyes remain closed, but Vanya doesn't pull away. She listens, that much is obvious. "I'm tired, H'kon," she finally admits. "I'm just so ... tired. It's been a long circuit this time. Three children at one cothold had colic from eating too unripe fruit, and one of the hands at the first hold broke his wrist, and --" She swallows. "I was just looking forward to being back at the weyr where I could --" She stops, moistens her lips. "I was going to find you and see if we could talk." Her eyes reopen and she looks at him, her hands finally relaxing from the fists they formed. "I want to trust you, H'kon. I really do. It's just that I've lost so much this past turn, I'm afraid of losing even more. If I lose anything more, I -- I don't think I can --" And there she just stops.
H'kon takes advantage of the opening of those hands, adjusting his grip so that his fingers slide within hers. Holding her hands now, rather than simply holding onto them. His voice goes soft, and he doesn't take his eyes from her. "Well I cannot promise what I do not know." Sincere. "And beyond what I have said, I do not know." Earnest. "But it /would/ be different." And here, he transfers both her hands to one of his, the now-freed arm going to wrap around the woman's back. "Come." Though he himself isn't sure whether it's an invitation into an embrace, or an invitation to help her up.
Vanya is almost too weary to resist, but there's a look of complete and utter confusion on her face. "What do you mean, H'kon? What will be different? I'm not following this conversation." She doesn't try to get up, so hopefully he's wanting to embrace her. Although, if the rider uses that upper body power, he can pull her upright. "This is part of our problem. /You/ know what you're trying to say, but /I/ don't. Sometimes it's like you talk in half-finished statements, like you know what you mean, know what you're saying, but most of it stays inside your head and doesn't come out your mouth." She shakes her head. "I cannot read your mind like Arekoth can. I wish I could. It would simplify matters considerably."
H'kon is able to hide a frustrated expression by, indeed, hugging Vanya up against his chest. He doesn't push for her to stand, maintaining his balance in that one-knee'd kneel. "I am sorry," comes easier than an immediate explanation. "It is usually only Arekoth that I will speak with on such things." Hesitation brings further stalling. "Do not think you must pay attention to this now." Again, he waits. Organising his thoughts. Rubbing his hand quickly over Vanya's back. "I have told you I do not share some things with you, to avoid the risk of this going serious. But if it were... if you would allow it, and be with me -only me - I do not doubt it could. And that would be different than what you have had. That was not... honest. But nevermind," he's quick to ammend. "We can... go back. If you like, I will walk with you."
There's a moment when Vanya simply doesn't say anything. What can she say to that? "H'kon, are you ... is that what you want from me?" she finally asks. "Is that why we can't --" She stops, pushing slightly back from the man, trying to look him in the face now. "I don't ... know what to say." The healer is truly baffled by this. "I don't know if --" She shakes her head. "No, no -- I cannot do this. I need to think and I'm --" She stops again, her hands still held in H'kon's. "I need to think and I'm just too tired. I want to be thinking very clearly before we get into this any deeper. What you're saying --" She stops again, looking at him straight on. "Yes ... walk with me. Let me get home, take a bath, eat, relax. I don't want to make a mistake we'll both regret."
"Why we can't?" H'kon's turn, now, to be at a loss as to what Vanya is thinking. As she continues on talking, however, the man's face goes a bit pale. Even with the beard to cover it. "Nevermind," is repeated. There is no attempt to prevent her pushing away from him, and he isn't quite inspired to give further explanation. He gets to his feet, pulling Vanya up with him, and then promptly releasing her. The palor has been replaced by a flush to his cheeks as he turns to look at something of particular interest on the road. "Whenever you're ready to set out, then. If I can help with either of the beasts?" A twitch of his chin toward the two, tethered to that tree.
Vanya steadies herself against the tree with one hand, reaching down for her hat. She looks at H'kon for a long moment, then simply says, "Why we can't understand one another." Turning then to look at the beasts, she nods toward the pack animal. "If you'll lead him, I'll handle the mare. She doesn't like the scent of dragon on you. It scares her." Simple enough explanation. There's a glance to the sky, judging the time, most likely. "We should be back to the weyr a little after sundown, I'm guessing." She doesn't seem to be bothered by this. "It'll be nice to have company for the trip. It does get lonely out here."
H'kon sets to untying that burden beast, according him a distrustful look (which is surely returned, to the extent that it can be), and then attempting a few steps. Docile, the animal follows, and the dragonrider is reassured. "Right. Best get going, anyway. Nothing tonight, but drills tomorrow. We fly thread soon. And the last fall did not go well for the Weyr." A little frown, and then he's turning to Vanya, anxious for the walking to get underway. Awkward situations - or at least those that were recently awkward - call for movement.
Walking is good. It actually feels good after riding for all those hours, and Vanya is in good shape. She sets a pace which is easy for all of them, humans and animals. "You don't have to do this, H'kon," she says after about a half-mile. "I can handle them by myself, if you'd rather head on back to the weyr." But then she remembers what he said about the last 'fall, and takes a deep breath. "How bad was it?" The question is asked reluctantly, as if she's afraid to hear the answer.
The suggestion that he go ahead back to the Weyr brings the slightest grinding of his teeth. A distraction, even when dealing in bad threadfall, is welcome. "Four," the brownrider replies, tone somber, shoulders hunching a little for the report. "We lost four. And then there were injuries, among riders and groundcrew." A sidelong glance, and he adds, "My wing did not fly."
Vanya nods, and there's a bit of relief in her expression. "I'm glad it wasn't worse," she says, voice quiet. "It didn't fall anywhere near where I was, so thankfully there were no Thread scores to deal with." She's quiet for a moment, the only sound on the road that of footsteps and the animals. There's a pleasant breeze, at least, and the runner seems to have calmed down or grown used to H'kon's presence, even with the dragon scent on him. "I wasn't meaning I wanted you to leave," she says after a lengthy silence. "I just didn't want you to feel you /had/ to stay with me. I don't ever want anyone to feel they're forced to endure my company. I know I'm not always the easiest person to ... to be around. I'm ... I can be moody."
H'kon glances up as they walk, catching the occasional glimpse of Arekoth circling, high enough overhead to avoid spooking the runner, his mental link to H'kon not requiring a low survey flight to keep track of the progress being made along the road. When Vanya speaks, H'kon turns to her, frowning a little as the explanation goes along, and soon looking back to the ground where he's about to tread. "I would think I have made it obvious enough that I wish to be around you." A bit of a bite to the comment, yes, but surely his point can't be easily missed. Further reassurance is held back; again, H'kon is on the defensive.
Suitably chastized, Vanya doesn't offer much of anything else on the subject. A simple nod, and that's it. She goes back to being quiet, just walking along, occasionally glancing to the side of the road. It goes like this for at least a mile, with the extinct volcano that houses High Reaches Weyr looming ever closer on the horizon. The sun remains high in the sky, and it's only an hour or so after they begin the walk that Vanya even attempts to continue the conversation. "Does it have to be all or nothing, H'kon?" The question is softly asked, in an almost tired tone of voice. "Can't we go on being the way we are? I'm not trying to pry when I ask you questions about yourself or your family. It's only because I'm interested. I don't /have/ to ask those questions. I just -- you say you like me sharing my thoughts with you, but if I want you to do the same, it has to be serious between us. Why is that? Why must we --" A pause. "Why is it all or nothing?"
The first quarter of that hour is certainly a tense one for H'kon, half-expecting some sort of awkward or uncomfortable conversation. The brownrider settles in after a time, eased by the rhythmic footfalls of people and beasts alike, and surely also by the dragon circling lazily overhead. An hour of unladen flight isn't especially taxing on Arekoth, and he has remained in the air the entire time. When Vanya speaks, it startles the man, a bit of a jump heralding the wide-eyed look over to the healer. "All or... I didn't say it had to be that way, Vanya." The bit of leather with which he leads that beast is turned awkwardly between his hands. "I... Only, if I wanted just a friend, then there would be far easier ways to go about it. And sex is easy enough to find in the lower caverns, even for me." H'kon is well aware he's not the romantic type that the girls flock to.
Now it's Vanya's turn to look a little startled. "But ... that's what you made it sound like," she protests. "I heard you say it would be different if we were exclusive, if I saw no one else besides you. It sounded like that's what you wanted from me." She looks over at him, then back down at the road. "Apparently, we don't speak the same language," she finally says after a moment of silence. "I hear what I think you're saying, but then I'm wrong. If you would come out and tell me what you want from me, it would make this a lot easier. Is it that you want me to see you and only you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
"No, you didn't misunderstand me. Just... it doesn't /have/ to be like that. If you would rather it... It's not important, Vanya. I should not have said. Only you made it sound as if you were... I just had the means to prove that you were underestimating your worth." A tug is given to the lead - that poor creature having to increase his pace over a few steps to keep up with H'kon, who has taken to walking a bit faster. "I will not say I won't want it. But it is not a necessity. And it should not have been said, anyway."
Vanya is quiet again, apparently deep in thought. "You would /want/ me to be with you as a ... as a weyrmate?" she asks, as if this is the most incredible thing she's ever heard. "I ... that's so hard for me to believe," she blurts. Perhaps not the most diplomatic thing to say, no, but she's never been known for tact when she's flabbergasted. Which she seems to be. "Even knowing what problems I have, you'd /want/ that with me?" It startles her so much she stops dead in her tracks, the runner actually moving past her until it reaches the end of the reins. "Not that that's a bad thing, but -- I'm just -- I wouldn't think anyone would -- not after --" And then she simply stops trying to talk. The runner turns to whicker at her, reminding her that home isn't far away, and there's a nice bag of oats waiting for her.
H'kon stops, too, once it's become apparent that Vanya won't be immediately resuming the pace. "Well it would not have to be called that," the dragonrider notes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times before he's settled. And then his hand sets to wringing away at that strip of leather he's holding. His own burden beast isn't quite so anxious to be home, though it emulates the brownrider, occasionally suffling its feet. "When I see you without that - then, more than..." He finally lifts his shoulders in a shrug, helpless, and sets to looking down the road himself, equally anxious to go as that mare.
"See me without -- what?" Vanya asks, still stopped, despite the urging from her mare. "When you don't finish things like that, I don't know what you're about to say. I try to read between the lines, but I'm not very good at that. Interpersonal relationships aren't a specialty of mine, in case you haven't figured that out." She glances again at the sky, perhaps finally catching sight of Arekoth in one of his passes. "Just once I wish we could say what we mean without confusing one another," she says, almost wistfully. "You get frustrated and clam up. I get frustrated and don't know when to shut up. There's /got/ to be a point where we can meet at least halfway. There simply /has/ to be."
"Without that whole E'sere thing hanging over you." This is pushed out quickly, as if to dupe that instinct to cut off when getting to near to a true thought by the sheer speed of the words. "You seem happier," he is willing to admit. "And when you question yourself it is... it does not seem right." Again, he shifts from foot to foot. But he will say nothing, waiting for Vanya to be ready to move toward the Weyr again.
"Oh." It's a small word, and spoken very softly. "I ... yes, I understand what you mean," she adds, taking a couple of steps forward before pausing again. "I ..." A pause, then, "There are times I think I'm ready to set it all aside, ready to move on, but then something happens to slam my face in the mud and remind me. Someone will look at me and smirk, or sneer, or ask if I'm not the one who --" She breaks off. "It doesn't happen as often as it did, but it still happens. I try, H'kon. I really do."
H'kon seems relieved at the initial expression of understanding, and even more so as Vanya starts to walk. He's just got the animal be's leading moving again when the healer has paused, and all must once more come to a halt. "Well... I suppose nothing much can be done for other people." Now he hesitates, studying her for a moment, that more sympathetic, softer expression hinted at, though not fully realised. "If you will let me, I will do what I can to help," is finally offered. Then a firm nod in the direction of the road. "We will be back late if we do not continue." It's evident that H'kon has had his fill of walking and talking, and they are close enough to the Weyr now that the rest of the journey can be completed in a comfortable enough silence, both Vanya and H'kon sharing in the decision to keep more serious discussion for a later time.