Log: Connotations and Meanings
Who: Lachai, P'draig, NPCs: Palia, Jaivery and Dylan
When: 13/1/19
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Lachai's having a nice serene moment on the beach where it's cooler. Paddy's passel of kids wreck that but there's an interesting conversation at least.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It's either the blessing of the day, or advice well-taken, but Lachai has found the relief from humidity he was looking for. The leather-woodworker list-maker is nestled into the black sand as if he's been there a while. He's sitting, his legs half-stretched lazily in front of him with arms slung over knees. Shoes and glasses are nowhere to be seen, and once in a while he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and breathes deep. Still, in this scene of otherwise relaxation, he seems like he's thinking hard about something. Some people never stop.
Woe to thinkers, P'draig and his gaggle of kids have arrived. A toddler sits perched atop the brownrider's shoulders, while a girl who looks to be about five with a wild head of curly brown hair and a sturdy little boy, like-wise dark-haired run just ahead of Paddy towards the water, letting out happy whoops. "Careful kids!" P'draig calls out. "Don't forget the rules, stay behind Jekzith!" Said motley brown is just setting down and wading out to form a 'pool' in the surface that lets waves wash over his tail, but provides some containment and protection from the tides. "Whoa there," the brownrider says as little Dylan on his shoulders kicks his feet and covers his father's eyes. "All right you, down," and so Paddy sets the toddler down and starts to set up 'camp' from the roll of blankets and gear tucked into the bag he holds. It's while he's straightening the blanket that he notes Lachai over there, lost in thought. "Nicer down here, isn't it?" he calls over.
'Whoa!', too. It actually takes the sudden increase in noise a fair amount of time to penetrate whatever Lachai's got going on in there, but once it does he startles and sits up straighter. To him, it's like the whole squad appeared out of thin air. (At least it /is/ thin). The gaggle is watched a second before P'draig's greeting pulls an absent half-smile from the younger man, "A notable improvement." His attention trails from the father down to the children and then to the handy operation that brown dragon has going on. He glances over to P'draig once more but seems to reconsider something. Instead, he pushes out of his little sand-pit, and, brushing his hands off on his pants, wanders closer to the other. "He seems good with them," he notes once he's in normal talking volume range.
Blanket set out, towels lining it like pillows along one side and a bunch of sand gear, including pails, shovels and small pie and cake pans for making shapes out of wet sand, is tucked over to one side for when the older kids want it. Dylan, unsteady on his chubby little feet, toddles forward to claim a shovel and sits down in the sand with a soft thump and without uttering so much as a word, starts to dig. P'draig beams over at Lachai, nodding. "Yeah, breeze is pretty stiff down here and comes in off the water. Sometimes I think about building a cothold on one of the other smaller beaches down that way," he gestures. "It'd be a lot cooler than a weyr, even with ours high and on the outside of the Weyr," he describes and nudges a basket to the side. Probably snacks and the like. "Jekzith?" a look towards the dragon. "Yeah, he loves them. He's a really upbeat dragon."
"Hmm. Seems like a nice thought. Even to just have, ah, a place to nip off to for a small break." Lachai glances in the direction away to the smaller beaches, perhaps already envisioning the housing there. "Jekzith... that must be nice. Did he, uh, think of that living corral or did you?" He gestures towards the way the dragon keeps the children from going too far and then shuffles a couple more steps towards the toddler still nearby, himself. Though he crouches down and doesn't seem distinctly /un/comfortable around children, he also doesn't offer any words of greeting to the young'un.
"Exactly, near the Weyr but not in it. And with it being Interval, wouldn't even have to build Threadproof," P'draig says with a chuckle and hunkers down to remove a sandy fist from Dylan's mouth. A look is shot towards the surf where Palia and Jaivery are splashing each other happily. "He did, actually. He's been herding Palia since she was a wee thing, making sure she didn't fall down too much or drown in the lake at Fort," Paddy describes. Dylan makes a face at Paddy briefly as sand is brushed free of his mouth then he considers Lachai for a moment, digs up a shovelful of the stuff and holds it out on offer to the leatherworker. Yum. Lunch?
"Always a plus," Lachai agrees, very matter-of-fact against P'draig's more relaxed behavior. "How... interesting. Dragons are intelligent, obviously, I just find the interaction between large creatures and those much smaller than them to be uniquely fascinating." Speaking of which, he's distracted by movement nearby and that offered sand. Ah.. hmm. Wasn't that hand just in a mouth? Still, no need to be rude. Lachai shifts to strengthen his position crouching and then leans forward, both hands cupped in front of him should any toddlers feel like dumping things in them. Hopefully, just sand.
"Not all dragons are like that," P'draig notes with a nod. "Jekzith is just -- he's always really been into everything that I do. So when I started a family he threw himself into it too," the brownrider explains further. Dylan turns the shovel a little and the sand trickles off of its surface towards Lachai's cupped palms. He doesn't quite get it all into the leatherworker's hands though, much of it spilling to the sides. "Heh, sharing, that's good," Paddy notes with a laugh and ruffles the boy's breeze-tossed head of light hair.
"Not all dragons are like that," P'draig notes with a nod. "Jekzith is just -- he's always really been into everything that I do. So when I started a family he threw himself into it too," the brownrider explains further. Dylan turns the shovel a little and the sand trickles off of its surface towards Lachai's cupped palms. He doesn't quite get it all into the leatherworker's hands though, much of it spilling to the sides. "Heh, sharing, that's good," Paddy notes with a laugh and ruffles the boy's breeze-tossed head of light hair.
"Always, huh?" Lachai picks out the word, "So, even when he was, ah, a hatchling, it is." Now, though, it becomes unclear what to /do/ with a handful of sand once he has it. He starts to just toss it all but reconsiders, instead pulling his hands towards him and separating them slowly to put what's left of the offering in a small triangle-like pile. Pushing to his feet again, he head towards the water edge. Making sure to skirt around the other playing children, the leatherworker bends to collect a sturdier handful of wet sand. This is brought back to the spot by the blankets, dropped in a clump and then, promptly shaped into a tower. Or, well, a sort of rising shape of unsteady sand.
"Mmhm, even when he was a hatchling," P'draig says with a wry little smile. "Into /everything/," he elaborates. "Literally, /everything/. He's still very ... present in my head? We don't have much separation between us, except for the awareness of it. It was rough when he was little, always hearing his dreams, that kind of thing. But we've grown into it?" Dylan watches the piling up and cackles cheerily like toddlers are wont to do and digs some more. When Lachai returns with the water though, he pauses, stares at the man and reaches forward trying to catch at the water while it spills, then trying to shove stubby fingers into the tower. "Hey, hey, let him finish, Dyl," Paddy sits behind his son and reaches around to draw his hands away a little, guides the forming of a pile between the kid's chubby knees. "See, you can do it too. We can get you some water in a pail."
Someone is poking holes in his tower! That is not structurally sound! Luckily, the interference is handled and Lachai patches up all of the glaring weak spots. Gathering some more sand, he begins building off of the first - a wall to go with the tower. His first attempt at giving the wall small merlons for proper defensive maneuvering fails as the sand is far too slippery. "That sounds quite invasive," he mentions as he watches the tiny battlement fall apart, "And I can't imagine what it's like." He thinks back. "Have you? Grown into it? You seemed to end a little uncertain there."
"Impressing is a pretty invasive experience, really, though not a bad one," P'draig explains while re-directing Dylan's efforts again. He gets to his feet after a moment to get one of the pails. "And no, not uncertain about it being all right, more about that being the right words for it. Weyrlinghood is all about adjustment, changes, learning to be something new. You're yourself, but you have to learn how to handle sharing your head with another person and them sharing their headspace with you. It's both the hardest thing most weyrlings have ever done and as easy as breathing at the same time." Some humor threads through Paddy's smile as he swings the pail by its handle. "Contradictory, I know. But a lot of stuff having to do with dragons is." And then he's off to the water's edge to fill up that pail for his son.
Lachai forgets about his sand structure to listen. Even once P'draig leaves, he's struck there, staring ahead and absorbing that all in. Then, suddenly, he bounds to his feet and follows after, a light grimace of concentration on his face. "Now wait, wait. You said it's the... hardest and /easiest/? Are you sure you don't mean that it's hard but especially rewarding anyway? I mean, that's what it seems to sound like - head invasion not included because, honestly, that's a little ---" A hand-wave substitutes for actual words, "But things are usually hard. When they're hard. That just doesn't always implicate them as bad, as well..." He seems to have lost his place.
The flood of words lifts P'draig's head as he dips the pail into the water and he blinks. "Uh --" and looks back up the sand quickly at Dylan to make sure the toddler hasn't done the typical one-year-old thing and decided to try to wander off. The pail is small and rapidly filled and Paddy heads back towards the blanket, eyes on the baby. "Sorry - can't take your eyes off them at this age," he notes with a grin. "No I meant both. It's easy as breathing to have that other mind with you, once you Impress in that moment, it feels like you've never known anything else. But at the same time, it's hard, because you have to adjust to a new way of thinking and having those other thoughts inside your head. At first there can also be a lot of confusion about the shared emotions. So yeah, it's weird it's something that feels both completely natural and like it /should be/ but it's also new and different."
You are breaking Lachai a little bit. Once again he hesitates too long at the former location and has to trot quickly to catch back up to P'draig's movements. Last minute, he remembers to dip down and get himself more of that pliable wet sand. "That's fine." About the kid, "But, no, uh." There are moments of silence where Lachai is obviously gathering his words so as best to make his case. "See, I'm having trouble with the part where something is both opposites. That's why they're different, to illustrate different sides of the scales. To say something's both... I'm having a bit of trouble with that." No, really? Plop. Meanwhile the sand is gliding contently through his fingers the longer he stands there doing nothing with it.
P'draig settles down behind Dylan again to pour water into the little pit he's digging and lets the little guy get his fingers all ooky goopy in his own space. Dyl is less about building towers and walls and more just about ... scrunching and smooshing. "Yeah, I know. I'm trying to think of a good way to explain it. Because in some ways it's just something you have to feel." He's quiet for a moment then wags a finger at Lachai. "Okay, how did you wind up working with leather?"
The explanation does nothing to ease the tense look off Lachai's face. At the idea that no words will let him in on this experience, he balks, frowns, and then is forced to swallow it when the topic changes. Awkwardly, he lowers himself back onto the sand to deposit what's left of his handful onto the waiting construct. The question goes unanswered for a bit of time where he shapes out the next, shorter tower at the end of the wall. "Ahh... I was good at it." Comes the final, simple fact. "It was both handy and rewarding."
"Okay, you were good at it. So you came to it naturally you could say," P'draig says while pouring a little more water into Dylan's sand pit. "So, you still had to learn the basic skills though right? The tools and stuff. And was that always easy? Every tool? Every kind of leather? Every kind of thing you could do with leather?"
Lachai begins to nod amiably at each of the questions and then he lets out a quick 'ah!', lifting his chin. "I think -- I think I know what you're getting at. The potential was there, but the formal training still required the work. I suppose I might suggest the substitution of the word 'natural' you just used instead of 'easy', perhaps. In most cases." After a second, he shifts a little awkwardly, brushing back his hair and cautiously eying the rider, "Thank you, P'draig. Putting up with all the..." He makes a wild hand gesture to demonstrate his rambling.
"Amounts to about the same thing though, right? Easy as breathing is what some people say," P'draig answers with a ready grin. Dark brows lift at that gesture and the brownrider shakes his head a little, flicking sand off of his thumb. "What? Oh -- well you know. I was Weyrlingmaster for eleven turns. Different personalities. Different dragons turn after turn. You get used to it."
"I like to make a small distinction here," Lachai explains carefully, "Between something coming natural to you and being easy for you. I know, I know, it isn't quite - I'm not /quite/ sure - but it seems to me that natural relates more easily to instinct. Ahh, I just used 'easy' in that description. Eh, nevermind. Perhaps it isn't important." Though it's clear Lachai isn't completely dismissing the idea, just pushing it aside for now. There's a wispy smile at the next part. "Eleven turns. I think I'd like to be settled into the same thing for a nice amount of time like that."
That just earns a small furrow in P'draig's brows. He's not quite getting it. "Okay," the brownrider says readily enough though. "I should introduce you to my brother sometime though. He'd like talking about word meanings with you. He's a harper. Archivist." Smile. Dylan makes a fussy sound and Paddy reaches over to snag one of those towels to wipe his hands off. "Hungry?" he asks the kid and Dylan headbutts him in the chest, mimes eating something. "Okay," Paddy agrees and snags the basket next to produce a banana and breaks off a piece to hand to the toddler. "Yeah. I was pretty settled. And then Mic came along. Made me move to Ista. If he didn't make me so happy, I'd complain," he jokes further.
Lachai perks up some at the sound of 'archivist' and he intones, "Hrm. I think I'd like that." His often-shy smile appears and widens at the sight of the toddler's behavior and the leatherworker absently glances away to see how the rest of the gaggle is doing. "Ah, Mic. T'mic. The one I'm supposed to talk to for the whole, ah, journal thing." He sounds more like he's reminding himself than anyone else. The following, "Don't I know a thing or two about being made to move..." is more conversational, if less excited, "Yes, at least yours is the happy kind. And T'mic was very nice when I met him - realized I knew him, actually. Maybe 'knew' is too familiar, but his name escaped me until a day ago."
"All right then, next time he's down this way, I'll see if I can track you down. I can just see the two of you spending hours talking about that kind of thing." P'draig folds up the rest of the banana into its peel and tucks it back into the basket. The rest of the crew is still splashing and kicking in the water and jumping up and down over waves. Jekzith apparently has that angle well in hand and Palia knows better than to wander off. Paddy nods though for confirmation about Mic. "His girl's birthday's come and gone, actually. But Mic's late with things sometimes." A grin there, fond. "Mm. He's a nice guy. Can be a little overwhelming sometimes. Did he try to get you into bed yet?" Blunt, that. "And um ... umm -- acquainted?" Paddy looks all hopeful puppy that he got that right.
Good for Jekzith and Palia, then. Lachai tilts his head back at P'draig carefully, "All he mentioned was this ba-- /excuse me/?" It took the question a second to get to Lachai, but now that it's there he sputters quite magnificently and brushes a hand quickly through his hair to fix it. Whether it needed fixing or not. "Noooo, no. There was, ah, none of /that/. But, ah... acquainted. Acquainted is probably the word I wanted before when I was saying I knew his name from before the turns when I left. Or, at least, I knew /of/ him, his name, I don't know if he knew... um, why did you just ask that?"
Lachai sputters and fumbles and P'draig just waits with a faintly amused expression on his face. "Because you're good-looking, presumably single and that's usually enough to get Mic started," the brownrider says candidly. "If he does ask, don't get offended. Sex is to Mic like shaking hands is to most people." Dylan keeps making a mess out of that banana, gnawing at it with all the teeth he has, which is about half the possible total and Palia and Jaivery continue on with their water games in blissful ignorance of their papa's bluntness.
For a second it's like Lachai thinks perhaps P'draig is joking, but the moment fades. "Ah, no - that is, I'm not offended. Surprised, yes. Offended... no. Um, I thought that /you/ two were presumably..." Lachai is neither quite so blunt nor comfortable with the territory. Though, he tries his honest best to not make a big deal out of things, what with P'draig looking so casual. The leatherworker casts a quick glance at Dylan, as if the toddler might somehow prematurely age into knowing what they're talking about, but gives that up, too.
"Exclusive? No," P'draig says with a shake of his head and fishes around in the basket to wipe Dylan's face and hands off as the last of the banana disappears. "Wa-wa," Dyl declares, pointing an imperious chubby finger at the waves and Paddy nods. "Sure buddy, go ahead. Right behind you," the brownrider says. Sturdy little legs carry Dylan off towards the water, a breeze ruffling his hair as he goes. His father has that dirtied napkin to deal with and the basket to flip shut. "So you know, don't be surprised if it does come up." And there Paddy's on his feet and tilts his head towards the surf. "Come for a swim? And I promise, I'll change the subject if you want to keep talking."
Lachai gives a firm enough nod at the short explanation, obviously settling down now that the surprise of the subject is over. "Thanks for the wa--" Thanking for talking about sex? "Er. Okay, noted." Feeling somewhat satisfactory, Lachai brushes his hands off again and gets up to follow P'draig to the water's edge. "So, late for the birthday, huh? I suppose the girl's used to this? Not expecting something large and expensive the longer it goes on?" He sounds a little bit joking, which helps cement that things are comfortable again. Once at the water, however, he hesitates, with barefeet just close enough for the largest waves to lap up and give a tiny temperature test.
Shedding his shirt, P'draig leaves the garment behind on the blanket and pads after Dylan who hasn't gotten very far, given how short his legs are and his wobbling walk a little unsteady still. "Yeah, a little late and yes, she's used to it, though I do try to keep him reminded. T'mic might empathize with the name thing. He forgets all the time." A friendly grin there and at the water's edge, P'draig's toes curl in the surf while Dylan squats down to pat at some washed up seafoam, making 'whee' noises. The water itself is perhaps surprisingly warm.
"Then I guess I'm still on for that," Lachai confirms absently, "After the wagon for miss weyrwoman, and the new slippers for Gran..." The water laps against the tips of Lachai's toes a few more times before he steps further in. This time, it wraps around his ankles before gliding away. A couple times of that and he steps again in about the same increment. "Ah, that reminds me. P'draig, you have kids," obviously, "Kids pull toys around, right? No need for a toy to conform to the standards of its functioning counterpart. See, a handle would be much easier than, say, rigging for four horses."
"The wagon?" P'draig inquires curiously with a headtilt towards Lachai. Dylan is giggling as water washes over his hands and Paddy bends to scoop him up. "Yeah sure, they pull their wagons and little runners on wheels around with all kinds of handles," the brownrider agrees and strides into the water, aiming for waist deep eventually, while Dylan wriggles a little in his arms. Palia goes swimming after and Jaivery just plain climbs onto Jekzith's tail and lets the brown swish him out deeper.
"Wait, you said handles /and/ runners. Unless the runners were part of the..." Lachai trails off, envisioning whatever it is he's thinking about in his head. His advance through the water stops as he does. When he looks back at P'draig, it's a bit woefully, "I can't remember playing with toys as a child. Gran tells me I got into everything else, instead, so I suppose that's a reason. Though I don't always trust what she says..."
"A toy runner, made of wood, with wheels for hooves," P'draig describes, grinning at Lachai. "You pull it along and if you have one big enough you can ride it too. Jaivery has one and Palia gives him rides." The waves slap a little at the brownrider as he gets out deeper, then he swings Dylan around and dips him carefully into the water, up and down, up and down, making the tot laugh. Palia dives under the water and comes up from between Paddy's legs giggling madly and apparenly, even Jaivery already knows how to swim, though it's a dog paddle and he gamely catches at his father's waistband after getting a helpful push from Jekzith. The brown glides on by, heading out a little deeper, again to stand watch and break the waves a little.
Lachai ahs a quick understanding, "I get what you're saying. I had something else going on up here." He taps his forehead with two fingers, then drops the hand to his pocket to watch the kids run about and play. Though he also backsteps once or twice to avoid the majority of any splashing. When he talks next, he raises his chin a little, as if the higher in the air he speaks the less the children will understand, "If I may-- the mother in this picture...?"
"Team instead of single?" P'draig questions as he dips Dylan again and grins down at clinging Jaivery. "Try to swim back to Jekzith, race your sister," he suggests to the kids and there's soon a chorus of '1-2-3 go' and they're off paddling back to the brown. The next question from the leatherworker earns a lopsided grin from the brownrider. "Mother/s/," is emphasized carefully. "Palia's mother, greenrider from Fort, transferred to Southern." His voice drops low: "She abandoned her. Didn't want to raise her or have much to do with her. Only wanted me." Breath out. "Jaivery was a post-flight oops, so was Dylan, but welcome oopses both. Jaivery's mother is -- well this is complicated. She's my brother's weyrmate now, though she wasn't at the time. We -- had a casual-ish sort of thing going for a bit. Dylan's mother is a wingmate of mine and we lost a flight together, helped each other out after and she's always wanted children, so."
Lachai's mouth forms the word 'oops' without saying it. He gets stuck on that one a second but then begins nodding rightfully to the rest. "That is a bit... complicated." He agrees whole-heartedly, "Nice of you to keep up with all of them. Palia, Jaivery, Dylan." At each name, he stretches out a hand and points to the matching child. This done successfully, he shoves his hands in his pockets again and simply stands where he is in the water, enjoying what breeze or spray of water may come. Jekzith is blocking off the harshest kind, but it does manage to lap with some passion against the sand.
"Dragonrider family trees tend to be that way. I have one full brother and two half-sisters that I was raised with and my father has a few other kids with other women than my mother. My papa, my mother's weyrmate, has one older daughter from a flight from before he met my mother so my sisters have a half-sister too. Flights tend to you know, make things ... interesting," P'draig says with a laugh and zooms Dylan through the water. "I like having a family. I love my kids. Jaivery isn't usually here, I visit a lot, but he's up at Telgar with his mother and my brother. He'll get fostered when he's a little older. Palia'll always be with me until she either apprentices, impresses, gets married or ... whatever she wants to do with her life after she's sixteen. Dyl here, he's mostly in the children's caverns now, after living with his mother in her weyr when he was little. We trade off on afternoons or evenings with him." Paddy shoots a curious glance at Lachai. "Let me know if it's all you know, too much," he says with another laugh.
"I remember a thing or two about those kinds of situations," Lachai assures him with a nod, shifting occasionally in the water so that his feet don't sink too far under the sand. "I was raised a bit communally when here, myself, then picked up by Gran. Still deciding whether that was a curse or a blessing." The rolling of his eyes is purely for show, though, because there's absolutely no malice in his voice when he says it. The next movement of his feet puts his toes down on something and he jumps out of the way with a short surprised noise. Bending down to scrape away the sand, he comes out with a miraculously complete shell. It gleams in what shows of Rukbat shining down. Thumbing the shell, Lachai eyes Dylan, "If I give this to him, is he going to put it in his mouth?"
"Curse how and blessing how?" P'draig inquires, settling his hand under Dylan's chest and letting him 'paddle' while held up out of the water mostly. The brownrider's gaze lifts to Lachai and he grins, nodding. "Yeah, it will. Palia or Jaivery would be a better bet. Pali likes pretty things."
Lachai shakes his head quickly, loosening his hair from behind his ears so that he ends up tucking it back again, "No, I only complain, but I do owe her a good deal. I just wish she hadn't... nah, it's nice here. I like it here." He flashes P'draig a quick smile and then holds up the shell in his palm, "Well, then, we won't disturb her while she's trying to win any races. It was very nice talking with you but, ah, I do have things I should be doing." He brightens his smile an ounce more as goodbye and then turns back up the beach, stopping only to carefully set the unique shell down on the blanket where it - hopefully - won't be crushed by overexcited kid feet. If it is... well, they probably won't even realize what they missed.
P'draig nods about the shell. "Sure, she'll be around again eventually." About his still splashing, swimming daughter. "And good talking to you Lachai. "I'll see you around." A wave follows the leatherworker out of the surf and Paddy goes back to being Daddy for a good long while until he packs sandy, tired kids up to go home.
When: 13/1/19
Where: Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Lachai's having a nice serene moment on the beach where it's cooler. Paddy's passel of kids wreck that but there's an interesting conversation at least.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. At the height of mid-day, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
It's either the blessing of the day, or advice well-taken, but Lachai has found the relief from humidity he was looking for. The leather-woodworker list-maker is nestled into the black sand as if he's been there a while. He's sitting, his legs half-stretched lazily in front of him with arms slung over knees. Shoes and glasses are nowhere to be seen, and once in a while he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and breathes deep. Still, in this scene of otherwise relaxation, he seems like he's thinking hard about something. Some people never stop.
Woe to thinkers, P'draig and his gaggle of kids have arrived. A toddler sits perched atop the brownrider's shoulders, while a girl who looks to be about five with a wild head of curly brown hair and a sturdy little boy, like-wise dark-haired run just ahead of Paddy towards the water, letting out happy whoops. "Careful kids!" P'draig calls out. "Don't forget the rules, stay behind Jekzith!" Said motley brown is just setting down and wading out to form a 'pool' in the surface that lets waves wash over his tail, but provides some containment and protection from the tides. "Whoa there," the brownrider says as little Dylan on his shoulders kicks his feet and covers his father's eyes. "All right you, down," and so Paddy sets the toddler down and starts to set up 'camp' from the roll of blankets and gear tucked into the bag he holds. It's while he's straightening the blanket that he notes Lachai over there, lost in thought. "Nicer down here, isn't it?" he calls over.
'Whoa!', too. It actually takes the sudden increase in noise a fair amount of time to penetrate whatever Lachai's got going on in there, but once it does he startles and sits up straighter. To him, it's like the whole squad appeared out of thin air. (At least it /is/ thin). The gaggle is watched a second before P'draig's greeting pulls an absent half-smile from the younger man, "A notable improvement." His attention trails from the father down to the children and then to the handy operation that brown dragon has going on. He glances over to P'draig once more but seems to reconsider something. Instead, he pushes out of his little sand-pit, and, brushing his hands off on his pants, wanders closer to the other. "He seems good with them," he notes once he's in normal talking volume range.
Blanket set out, towels lining it like pillows along one side and a bunch of sand gear, including pails, shovels and small pie and cake pans for making shapes out of wet sand, is tucked over to one side for when the older kids want it. Dylan, unsteady on his chubby little feet, toddles forward to claim a shovel and sits down in the sand with a soft thump and without uttering so much as a word, starts to dig. P'draig beams over at Lachai, nodding. "Yeah, breeze is pretty stiff down here and comes in off the water. Sometimes I think about building a cothold on one of the other smaller beaches down that way," he gestures. "It'd be a lot cooler than a weyr, even with ours high and on the outside of the Weyr," he describes and nudges a basket to the side. Probably snacks and the like. "Jekzith?" a look towards the dragon. "Yeah, he loves them. He's a really upbeat dragon."
"Hmm. Seems like a nice thought. Even to just have, ah, a place to nip off to for a small break." Lachai glances in the direction away to the smaller beaches, perhaps already envisioning the housing there. "Jekzith... that must be nice. Did he, uh, think of that living corral or did you?" He gestures towards the way the dragon keeps the children from going too far and then shuffles a couple more steps towards the toddler still nearby, himself. Though he crouches down and doesn't seem distinctly /un/comfortable around children, he also doesn't offer any words of greeting to the young'un.
"Exactly, near the Weyr but not in it. And with it being Interval, wouldn't even have to build Threadproof," P'draig says with a chuckle and hunkers down to remove a sandy fist from Dylan's mouth. A look is shot towards the surf where Palia and Jaivery are splashing each other happily. "He did, actually. He's been herding Palia since she was a wee thing, making sure she didn't fall down too much or drown in the lake at Fort," Paddy describes. Dylan makes a face at Paddy briefly as sand is brushed free of his mouth then he considers Lachai for a moment, digs up a shovelful of the stuff and holds it out on offer to the leatherworker. Yum. Lunch?
"Always a plus," Lachai agrees, very matter-of-fact against P'draig's more relaxed behavior. "How... interesting. Dragons are intelligent, obviously, I just find the interaction between large creatures and those much smaller than them to be uniquely fascinating." Speaking of which, he's distracted by movement nearby and that offered sand. Ah.. hmm. Wasn't that hand just in a mouth? Still, no need to be rude. Lachai shifts to strengthen his position crouching and then leans forward, both hands cupped in front of him should any toddlers feel like dumping things in them. Hopefully, just sand.
"Not all dragons are like that," P'draig notes with a nod. "Jekzith is just -- he's always really been into everything that I do. So when I started a family he threw himself into it too," the brownrider explains further. Dylan turns the shovel a little and the sand trickles off of its surface towards Lachai's cupped palms. He doesn't quite get it all into the leatherworker's hands though, much of it spilling to the sides. "Heh, sharing, that's good," Paddy notes with a laugh and ruffles the boy's breeze-tossed head of light hair.
"Not all dragons are like that," P'draig notes with a nod. "Jekzith is just -- he's always really been into everything that I do. So when I started a family he threw himself into it too," the brownrider explains further. Dylan turns the shovel a little and the sand trickles off of its surface towards Lachai's cupped palms. He doesn't quite get it all into the leatherworker's hands though, much of it spilling to the sides. "Heh, sharing, that's good," Paddy notes with a laugh and ruffles the boy's breeze-tossed head of light hair.
"Always, huh?" Lachai picks out the word, "So, even when he was, ah, a hatchling, it is." Now, though, it becomes unclear what to /do/ with a handful of sand once he has it. He starts to just toss it all but reconsiders, instead pulling his hands towards him and separating them slowly to put what's left of the offering in a small triangle-like pile. Pushing to his feet again, he head towards the water edge. Making sure to skirt around the other playing children, the leatherworker bends to collect a sturdier handful of wet sand. This is brought back to the spot by the blankets, dropped in a clump and then, promptly shaped into a tower. Or, well, a sort of rising shape of unsteady sand.
"Mmhm, even when he was a hatchling," P'draig says with a wry little smile. "Into /everything/," he elaborates. "Literally, /everything/. He's still very ... present in my head? We don't have much separation between us, except for the awareness of it. It was rough when he was little, always hearing his dreams, that kind of thing. But we've grown into it?" Dylan watches the piling up and cackles cheerily like toddlers are wont to do and digs some more. When Lachai returns with the water though, he pauses, stares at the man and reaches forward trying to catch at the water while it spills, then trying to shove stubby fingers into the tower. "Hey, hey, let him finish, Dyl," Paddy sits behind his son and reaches around to draw his hands away a little, guides the forming of a pile between the kid's chubby knees. "See, you can do it too. We can get you some water in a pail."
Someone is poking holes in his tower! That is not structurally sound! Luckily, the interference is handled and Lachai patches up all of the glaring weak spots. Gathering some more sand, he begins building off of the first - a wall to go with the tower. His first attempt at giving the wall small merlons for proper defensive maneuvering fails as the sand is far too slippery. "That sounds quite invasive," he mentions as he watches the tiny battlement fall apart, "And I can't imagine what it's like." He thinks back. "Have you? Grown into it? You seemed to end a little uncertain there."
"Impressing is a pretty invasive experience, really, though not a bad one," P'draig explains while re-directing Dylan's efforts again. He gets to his feet after a moment to get one of the pails. "And no, not uncertain about it being all right, more about that being the right words for it. Weyrlinghood is all about adjustment, changes, learning to be something new. You're yourself, but you have to learn how to handle sharing your head with another person and them sharing their headspace with you. It's both the hardest thing most weyrlings have ever done and as easy as breathing at the same time." Some humor threads through Paddy's smile as he swings the pail by its handle. "Contradictory, I know. But a lot of stuff having to do with dragons is." And then he's off to the water's edge to fill up that pail for his son.
Lachai forgets about his sand structure to listen. Even once P'draig leaves, he's struck there, staring ahead and absorbing that all in. Then, suddenly, he bounds to his feet and follows after, a light grimace of concentration on his face. "Now wait, wait. You said it's the... hardest and /easiest/? Are you sure you don't mean that it's hard but especially rewarding anyway? I mean, that's what it seems to sound like - head invasion not included because, honestly, that's a little ---" A hand-wave substitutes for actual words, "But things are usually hard. When they're hard. That just doesn't always implicate them as bad, as well..." He seems to have lost his place.
The flood of words lifts P'draig's head as he dips the pail into the water and he blinks. "Uh --" and looks back up the sand quickly at Dylan to make sure the toddler hasn't done the typical one-year-old thing and decided to try to wander off. The pail is small and rapidly filled and Paddy heads back towards the blanket, eyes on the baby. "Sorry - can't take your eyes off them at this age," he notes with a grin. "No I meant both. It's easy as breathing to have that other mind with you, once you Impress in that moment, it feels like you've never known anything else. But at the same time, it's hard, because you have to adjust to a new way of thinking and having those other thoughts inside your head. At first there can also be a lot of confusion about the shared emotions. So yeah, it's weird it's something that feels both completely natural and like it /should be/ but it's also new and different."
You are breaking Lachai a little bit. Once again he hesitates too long at the former location and has to trot quickly to catch back up to P'draig's movements. Last minute, he remembers to dip down and get himself more of that pliable wet sand. "That's fine." About the kid, "But, no, uh." There are moments of silence where Lachai is obviously gathering his words so as best to make his case. "See, I'm having trouble with the part where something is both opposites. That's why they're different, to illustrate different sides of the scales. To say something's both... I'm having a bit of trouble with that." No, really? Plop. Meanwhile the sand is gliding contently through his fingers the longer he stands there doing nothing with it.
P'draig settles down behind Dylan again to pour water into the little pit he's digging and lets the little guy get his fingers all ooky goopy in his own space. Dyl is less about building towers and walls and more just about ... scrunching and smooshing. "Yeah, I know. I'm trying to think of a good way to explain it. Because in some ways it's just something you have to feel." He's quiet for a moment then wags a finger at Lachai. "Okay, how did you wind up working with leather?"
The explanation does nothing to ease the tense look off Lachai's face. At the idea that no words will let him in on this experience, he balks, frowns, and then is forced to swallow it when the topic changes. Awkwardly, he lowers himself back onto the sand to deposit what's left of his handful onto the waiting construct. The question goes unanswered for a bit of time where he shapes out the next, shorter tower at the end of the wall. "Ahh... I was good at it." Comes the final, simple fact. "It was both handy and rewarding."
"Okay, you were good at it. So you came to it naturally you could say," P'draig says while pouring a little more water into Dylan's sand pit. "So, you still had to learn the basic skills though right? The tools and stuff. And was that always easy? Every tool? Every kind of leather? Every kind of thing you could do with leather?"
Lachai begins to nod amiably at each of the questions and then he lets out a quick 'ah!', lifting his chin. "I think -- I think I know what you're getting at. The potential was there, but the formal training still required the work. I suppose I might suggest the substitution of the word 'natural' you just used instead of 'easy', perhaps. In most cases." After a second, he shifts a little awkwardly, brushing back his hair and cautiously eying the rider, "Thank you, P'draig. Putting up with all the..." He makes a wild hand gesture to demonstrate his rambling.
"Amounts to about the same thing though, right? Easy as breathing is what some people say," P'draig answers with a ready grin. Dark brows lift at that gesture and the brownrider shakes his head a little, flicking sand off of his thumb. "What? Oh -- well you know. I was Weyrlingmaster for eleven turns. Different personalities. Different dragons turn after turn. You get used to it."
"I like to make a small distinction here," Lachai explains carefully, "Between something coming natural to you and being easy for you. I know, I know, it isn't quite - I'm not /quite/ sure - but it seems to me that natural relates more easily to instinct. Ahh, I just used 'easy' in that description. Eh, nevermind. Perhaps it isn't important." Though it's clear Lachai isn't completely dismissing the idea, just pushing it aside for now. There's a wispy smile at the next part. "Eleven turns. I think I'd like to be settled into the same thing for a nice amount of time like that."
That just earns a small furrow in P'draig's brows. He's not quite getting it. "Okay," the brownrider says readily enough though. "I should introduce you to my brother sometime though. He'd like talking about word meanings with you. He's a harper. Archivist." Smile. Dylan makes a fussy sound and Paddy reaches over to snag one of those towels to wipe his hands off. "Hungry?" he asks the kid and Dylan headbutts him in the chest, mimes eating something. "Okay," Paddy agrees and snags the basket next to produce a banana and breaks off a piece to hand to the toddler. "Yeah. I was pretty settled. And then Mic came along. Made me move to Ista. If he didn't make me so happy, I'd complain," he jokes further.
Lachai perks up some at the sound of 'archivist' and he intones, "Hrm. I think I'd like that." His often-shy smile appears and widens at the sight of the toddler's behavior and the leatherworker absently glances away to see how the rest of the gaggle is doing. "Ah, Mic. T'mic. The one I'm supposed to talk to for the whole, ah, journal thing." He sounds more like he's reminding himself than anyone else. The following, "Don't I know a thing or two about being made to move..." is more conversational, if less excited, "Yes, at least yours is the happy kind. And T'mic was very nice when I met him - realized I knew him, actually. Maybe 'knew' is too familiar, but his name escaped me until a day ago."
"All right then, next time he's down this way, I'll see if I can track you down. I can just see the two of you spending hours talking about that kind of thing." P'draig folds up the rest of the banana into its peel and tucks it back into the basket. The rest of the crew is still splashing and kicking in the water and jumping up and down over waves. Jekzith apparently has that angle well in hand and Palia knows better than to wander off. Paddy nods though for confirmation about Mic. "His girl's birthday's come and gone, actually. But Mic's late with things sometimes." A grin there, fond. "Mm. He's a nice guy. Can be a little overwhelming sometimes. Did he try to get you into bed yet?" Blunt, that. "And um ... umm -- acquainted?" Paddy looks all hopeful puppy that he got that right.
Good for Jekzith and Palia, then. Lachai tilts his head back at P'draig carefully, "All he mentioned was this ba-- /excuse me/?" It took the question a second to get to Lachai, but now that it's there he sputters quite magnificently and brushes a hand quickly through his hair to fix it. Whether it needed fixing or not. "Noooo, no. There was, ah, none of /that/. But, ah... acquainted. Acquainted is probably the word I wanted before when I was saying I knew his name from before the turns when I left. Or, at least, I knew /of/ him, his name, I don't know if he knew... um, why did you just ask that?"
Lachai sputters and fumbles and P'draig just waits with a faintly amused expression on his face. "Because you're good-looking, presumably single and that's usually enough to get Mic started," the brownrider says candidly. "If he does ask, don't get offended. Sex is to Mic like shaking hands is to most people." Dylan keeps making a mess out of that banana, gnawing at it with all the teeth he has, which is about half the possible total and Palia and Jaivery continue on with their water games in blissful ignorance of their papa's bluntness.
For a second it's like Lachai thinks perhaps P'draig is joking, but the moment fades. "Ah, no - that is, I'm not offended. Surprised, yes. Offended... no. Um, I thought that /you/ two were presumably..." Lachai is neither quite so blunt nor comfortable with the territory. Though, he tries his honest best to not make a big deal out of things, what with P'draig looking so casual. The leatherworker casts a quick glance at Dylan, as if the toddler might somehow prematurely age into knowing what they're talking about, but gives that up, too.
"Exclusive? No," P'draig says with a shake of his head and fishes around in the basket to wipe Dylan's face and hands off as the last of the banana disappears. "Wa-wa," Dyl declares, pointing an imperious chubby finger at the waves and Paddy nods. "Sure buddy, go ahead. Right behind you," the brownrider says. Sturdy little legs carry Dylan off towards the water, a breeze ruffling his hair as he goes. His father has that dirtied napkin to deal with and the basket to flip shut. "So you know, don't be surprised if it does come up." And there Paddy's on his feet and tilts his head towards the surf. "Come for a swim? And I promise, I'll change the subject if you want to keep talking."
Lachai gives a firm enough nod at the short explanation, obviously settling down now that the surprise of the subject is over. "Thanks for the wa--" Thanking for talking about sex? "Er. Okay, noted." Feeling somewhat satisfactory, Lachai brushes his hands off again and gets up to follow P'draig to the water's edge. "So, late for the birthday, huh? I suppose the girl's used to this? Not expecting something large and expensive the longer it goes on?" He sounds a little bit joking, which helps cement that things are comfortable again. Once at the water, however, he hesitates, with barefeet just close enough for the largest waves to lap up and give a tiny temperature test.
Shedding his shirt, P'draig leaves the garment behind on the blanket and pads after Dylan who hasn't gotten very far, given how short his legs are and his wobbling walk a little unsteady still. "Yeah, a little late and yes, she's used to it, though I do try to keep him reminded. T'mic might empathize with the name thing. He forgets all the time." A friendly grin there and at the water's edge, P'draig's toes curl in the surf while Dylan squats down to pat at some washed up seafoam, making 'whee' noises. The water itself is perhaps surprisingly warm.
"Then I guess I'm still on for that," Lachai confirms absently, "After the wagon for miss weyrwoman, and the new slippers for Gran..." The water laps against the tips of Lachai's toes a few more times before he steps further in. This time, it wraps around his ankles before gliding away. A couple times of that and he steps again in about the same increment. "Ah, that reminds me. P'draig, you have kids," obviously, "Kids pull toys around, right? No need for a toy to conform to the standards of its functioning counterpart. See, a handle would be much easier than, say, rigging for four horses."
"The wagon?" P'draig inquires curiously with a headtilt towards Lachai. Dylan is giggling as water washes over his hands and Paddy bends to scoop him up. "Yeah sure, they pull their wagons and little runners on wheels around with all kinds of handles," the brownrider agrees and strides into the water, aiming for waist deep eventually, while Dylan wriggles a little in his arms. Palia goes swimming after and Jaivery just plain climbs onto Jekzith's tail and lets the brown swish him out deeper.
"Wait, you said handles /and/ runners. Unless the runners were part of the..." Lachai trails off, envisioning whatever it is he's thinking about in his head. His advance through the water stops as he does. When he looks back at P'draig, it's a bit woefully, "I can't remember playing with toys as a child. Gran tells me I got into everything else, instead, so I suppose that's a reason. Though I don't always trust what she says..."
"A toy runner, made of wood, with wheels for hooves," P'draig describes, grinning at Lachai. "You pull it along and if you have one big enough you can ride it too. Jaivery has one and Palia gives him rides." The waves slap a little at the brownrider as he gets out deeper, then he swings Dylan around and dips him carefully into the water, up and down, up and down, making the tot laugh. Palia dives under the water and comes up from between Paddy's legs giggling madly and apparenly, even Jaivery already knows how to swim, though it's a dog paddle and he gamely catches at his father's waistband after getting a helpful push from Jekzith. The brown glides on by, heading out a little deeper, again to stand watch and break the waves a little.
Lachai ahs a quick understanding, "I get what you're saying. I had something else going on up here." He taps his forehead with two fingers, then drops the hand to his pocket to watch the kids run about and play. Though he also backsteps once or twice to avoid the majority of any splashing. When he talks next, he raises his chin a little, as if the higher in the air he speaks the less the children will understand, "If I may-- the mother in this picture...?"
"Team instead of single?" P'draig questions as he dips Dylan again and grins down at clinging Jaivery. "Try to swim back to Jekzith, race your sister," he suggests to the kids and there's soon a chorus of '1-2-3 go' and they're off paddling back to the brown. The next question from the leatherworker earns a lopsided grin from the brownrider. "Mother/s/," is emphasized carefully. "Palia's mother, greenrider from Fort, transferred to Southern." His voice drops low: "She abandoned her. Didn't want to raise her or have much to do with her. Only wanted me." Breath out. "Jaivery was a post-flight oops, so was Dylan, but welcome oopses both. Jaivery's mother is -- well this is complicated. She's my brother's weyrmate now, though she wasn't at the time. We -- had a casual-ish sort of thing going for a bit. Dylan's mother is a wingmate of mine and we lost a flight together, helped each other out after and she's always wanted children, so."
Lachai's mouth forms the word 'oops' without saying it. He gets stuck on that one a second but then begins nodding rightfully to the rest. "That is a bit... complicated." He agrees whole-heartedly, "Nice of you to keep up with all of them. Palia, Jaivery, Dylan." At each name, he stretches out a hand and points to the matching child. This done successfully, he shoves his hands in his pockets again and simply stands where he is in the water, enjoying what breeze or spray of water may come. Jekzith is blocking off the harshest kind, but it does manage to lap with some passion against the sand.
"Dragonrider family trees tend to be that way. I have one full brother and two half-sisters that I was raised with and my father has a few other kids with other women than my mother. My papa, my mother's weyrmate, has one older daughter from a flight from before he met my mother so my sisters have a half-sister too. Flights tend to you know, make things ... interesting," P'draig says with a laugh and zooms Dylan through the water. "I like having a family. I love my kids. Jaivery isn't usually here, I visit a lot, but he's up at Telgar with his mother and my brother. He'll get fostered when he's a little older. Palia'll always be with me until she either apprentices, impresses, gets married or ... whatever she wants to do with her life after she's sixteen. Dyl here, he's mostly in the children's caverns now, after living with his mother in her weyr when he was little. We trade off on afternoons or evenings with him." Paddy shoots a curious glance at Lachai. "Let me know if it's all you know, too much," he says with another laugh.
"I remember a thing or two about those kinds of situations," Lachai assures him with a nod, shifting occasionally in the water so that his feet don't sink too far under the sand. "I was raised a bit communally when here, myself, then picked up by Gran. Still deciding whether that was a curse or a blessing." The rolling of his eyes is purely for show, though, because there's absolutely no malice in his voice when he says it. The next movement of his feet puts his toes down on something and he jumps out of the way with a short surprised noise. Bending down to scrape away the sand, he comes out with a miraculously complete shell. It gleams in what shows of Rukbat shining down. Thumbing the shell, Lachai eyes Dylan, "If I give this to him, is he going to put it in his mouth?"
"Curse how and blessing how?" P'draig inquires, settling his hand under Dylan's chest and letting him 'paddle' while held up out of the water mostly. The brownrider's gaze lifts to Lachai and he grins, nodding. "Yeah, it will. Palia or Jaivery would be a better bet. Pali likes pretty things."
Lachai shakes his head quickly, loosening his hair from behind his ears so that he ends up tucking it back again, "No, I only complain, but I do owe her a good deal. I just wish she hadn't... nah, it's nice here. I like it here." He flashes P'draig a quick smile and then holds up the shell in his palm, "Well, then, we won't disturb her while she's trying to win any races. It was very nice talking with you but, ah, I do have things I should be doing." He brightens his smile an ounce more as goodbye and then turns back up the beach, stopping only to carefully set the unique shell down on the blanket where it - hopefully - won't be crushed by overexcited kid feet. If it is... well, they probably won't even realize what they missed.
P'draig nods about the shell. "Sure, she'll be around again eventually." About his still splashing, swimming daughter. "And good talking to you Lachai. "I'll see you around." A wave follows the leatherworker out of the surf and Paddy goes back to being Daddy for a good long while until he packs sandy, tired kids up to go home.