Log: Mutual Understanding
Who: Hattie, P'draig, Elaruth, Jekzith
When: Night, day 22, month 5, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: After an intimate interlude, Hattie and Paddy share understanding and comfort. Continued from No Games.
It's very dark out with neither of the moons at full, though they do continue to slant moonbeams across the sky, glancing off of a cloud here and there. Jekzith has settled quietly on the beach however, companionably near Elaruth perhaps, though he is awake and looks out at the night-touched waves that rush up onto the beach with the quiet sushing sound of the tide going out. P'draig lies on one side on that blanket of his, and arm curled around the goldrider at his side, just breathing, face turned towards her, eyes closed for the moment. The cries that broke the stillness of the night not so long ago have faded away, leaving only the sound of heartbeats and the ocean in their wake.
Also awake, Elaruth has curled up not precisely facing the ocean she observes the movement of, but at an angle that allows her to lie with her head against her flank and watch whilst at rest. Though Hattie might have been silently studying what facial features of P'draig that she can make out in the dark, now her eyes are likewise closed and she breathes slowly in and out with what must either be absolute calm or an effort to keep her breathing in a perfectly even rhythm. It's just not clear which is it, yet the fact that she hasn't really moved or tried to scramble away might betray one rather than the other.
During that study, Hattie would likely have found the telltale signs of encroaching middle age, if the light fell right to catch at the fine lines that are starting to linger at the corners of P'draig's eyes. Beyond that, his expression is serene, the flush in his cheeks after shared activity slow-fading. Beyond that seeming calm, there's also hints of fatigue to be found and perhaps subtle traces of grief, very subtle. After a moment, Jekzith turns to aim a light bump of his head towards Elaruth's side, playful affection. << Look at how the moonbeams get scattered around by the water, >> he points out. << It's pretty. >> P'draig takes a longer, slower, deeper breath and runs his hand lightly up Hattie's arm. His eyes open and he looks down at her, still doesn't say anything: his turn to study the cast of her features, what can be seen of them in the dark, his expression open, frank, with a certain warmth to it, though only of the fond sort.
She's more than good at control and there's little to be read on Hattie's features for the time during which her eyes are closed, perhaps some sort of internal murmurings going on there. When she opens her eyes, however, there's an almost awkward moment or two when she doesn't seem to have everything in order and control escapes her, concern, apprehension and something like fear plain there to see. Once she's managed to mask at least some of the last of those, she reaches out to curve a hand carefully around his shoulder, a quiet question following. "Are you okay?" Rather tired, Elaruth touches her tail gently to Jekzith's flank in turn instead of lifting her head, though her mindvoice doesn't drag with fatigue. << We should get them to remember that for us too. There are patterns. >> Patterns which aren't consistent, but she traces them over the marshland of her mind, silver steady over still water.
That concern and fear knit P'draig's brows, even when her hand lifts to his shoulder. His lifts to brush againt her cheek lightly, the same gesture that started them down this particular path. "Just fine," the brownrider answers with a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "It's -- it's been a while," he does mention after a moment though, "since I was last with a woman." His thumb lingers, traces the line of her jaw unless she moves away. "You? You -- you looked scared there for a bit. Or worried." Jekzith collects little bits of silver light, floats them off into the ether in a bubble. << Oh you're right! There are, >> he sees them when she shows them to him. << I'm sure P'draig will remember. He probably knows what to call some of those things. >>
A very eloquent, "Oh..." is all that initially follows that shared information, confusion or concern again narrowing Hattie's eyes and prompting her to tilt her head just slightly, though the latter might be to follow the touch at her jaw. "Why?" she finally asks, quiet still. His question has her gaze finding a distant point somewhere in the sky or abandoning focus entirely. "...I don't usually... I mean, I'm not... I don't go around meeting people on beaches and..." And the obvious. "And I probably shouldn't." But she has. << They will remember, >> Elaruth agrees, considering the ocean again. << Do you think it would be nice to float? >> She thinks of wings stretched out over water, soothing perhaps.
Silent while she questions, as she works through what she needs to say, P'draig takes a breath and reaches up to tuck back an errant strand of her hair. "If it helps any, I didn't assume that about you," the brownrider says softly. "And I don't expect anything from you," Paddy adds. "But I hope there's no regrets, because I have none." He stops there, smiles a little then backtracks to her question. "As for why," a shadow gathers on his face that has little to do with the lack of light and the answer is a single word, a name. "Phara." Jekzith stretches out, nose to tail and pushes to his feet, apparently very rarely without some energy. << The water usually feels good, cooler at night. If you like it cool? >>
"No," Hattie murmurs, of regrets, focusing again. "But I was recently reminded that my knot means that I don't get to behave like everyone else, or decide what's inappropriate or not. And this... would be inappropriate." At the uttering of that name, she says nothing for a short while, uneven breaths possibly conveying the existence of words but a certain lack of choice as to which to let out. In the end, she means to tuck her face into the crook of his neck in an attempt to comfort that way instead. Eventually, she asks, "How is her daughter getting on?" Elaruth is reasonably slow to rise and stretch, yet never truly quick to move at all. << Cool would be nice. >> For it matches the temperature of the water in her voice. << Let's go see. >> Paws pad towards the shore, muzzle nosing at the water once it's reached.
Ultimately, P'draig's hand drops to soothe along Hattie's back, comfort offered in return. "You can count on my discretion, Hattie," the brownrider says quietly. "I know what rank and position usually demand and at one time, I slipped up myself. The weight might not be as heavy for a weyrlingmaster, but there's still expectations and it's a hard lesson to learn." He swallows down a lump in his throat and bends to drift a kiss to her forehead. "Dharia's doing beautifully, she's a happy, healthy baby for all she made an early entrance. You can barely tell now, how early. I just have to remind myself sometimes still, that Phara wanted a family, wanted a baby and when it happened, she was happy. And what happened is just a sad and unlucky thing. I have a bad habit sometimes, of taking on too much responsibility. T'mic razzes me about it all the time, but he also looks out for me and tries to make sure I'm not doing that." His hand continues to move gently along her shoulder blade. "For a while, I struggled with blaming myself. But in the end, it was just bad luck." Deep breath. "Would you like to see Dharia sometime?" Jekzith's movement towards the water is much more energetic. He trots, though not so fast as to leave Elaruth behind and he kind of leapfrogs the surf to get out deep enough to a spot where they can float. << There's something good about cool or warm. Depending on what you're in the mood for. >>
Hattie says nothing more about rank, simple, grateful words of thanks said softly as far as she goes to address it, more to be read in what can be seen of her expression and the slow release of tension recently wound through her shoulders than anything else. Brown eyes seek to find his gaze in the dark and hold it before she starts to speak. "She wanted a baby, she chose to keep her and neither one of you had any idea, or, I assume, any indication that things would turn out how they have. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. So don't," she agrees, "blame yourself. Dharia survived and there's that to be thankful for." The goldrider continues to speak quietly, but with more certainty than she's demonstrated in the last few minutes. Another few seconds and she nods. "If it wouldn't be an intrusion, then I would like to see her sometime, yes." The queen is more sedate about following out into the water, paws picked up as soon as she's deep enough to float, wings not unfurled until she's travelled further a little more. << I find that cool is calming in a different way to warmth, >> Elaruth responds, staying reasonably close to the brown, as much as her wings will allow.
Gray-blue eyes meet brown steadily and P'draig smiles a little, only nods for that thanks, the understanding simple, straightforward. "Sometimes, the things you know in your head, it's harder to convince your heart to follow along with," the brownrider says, lets his hand wander down her back again, arm settling comfortably around her waist. "But no, it wasn't anyone's fault. It's just very sad that it happened that way. When she gets older, I'm hoping some of Phara's closer friends at Fort and Telgar and her family, will be able to help me let Dharia know something of who her mother was. And as for intruding, no I wouldn't see it that way. And if anything it's very appropriate for a weyrwoman of Fort to take an interest in the daughter of one of Fort's riders," Paddy adds with a hint of wry amusement in his voice. << Warm can be relaxing. Cool is ... well I think it's refreshing and it helps to wake Paddy up, usually. >> Fondness for his rider bleeds through Jekzith's thoughts.
"I know," the goldrider says softly, eyes closed briefly. "And... I know some people who would be more than willing to do that. Some who might appreciate seeing her sooner. One -- she's quite young, but she felt very helpless about the whole thing and it might do her some good to see Dharia happy and healthy." With that tension gone, Hattie seems rather comfortable, lazy even, for once, and lapses into an easy silence. << Hattie's anger can be cool and warm. Hot. Depending on the situation, >> Elaruth remarks thoughtfully, speaking of the concept as if it's a concept alone, as though anger is quite foreign to her. << One blurs and the other clears. Like the temperatures. >>
While Hattie's eyes are closed, P'draig leans forward to kiss her forehead again, very gently. "Actually, if you could let me know who, I'd be happy to bring her by as often as I can. And maybe when she's a bit older, she can go for visits even. I -- was in a hurry to get her home here. To get things settled," he admits. "But there's more than just my feelings or needs to take into account." Hattie's comfort level seems to ease some of the concern that Paddy had too and as he lapses into silence as well, his head settles down onto the pillow of his own forearm, one knee bumping companionably up against hers. << It's hard to make P'draig angry really, >> Jekzith replies. << There's things that really really make him very angry and then it's like ... well you're right. Hot and cold at once. Hot feelings, but the anger is more like a blizzard howling hard. >> Anger isn't really a Jekzith thing either. Happy go-lucky brown that he is. << Yes! >> he agrees about the different temperatures. << P'draig does a lot and doesn't sleep enough so he needs the clearing up usually, more than the blurring. >> And indeed, Paddy starts to drift off into a doze, then starts a little, clears his throat. "Do you need to head back?" he asks quietly. "We're ... unlikely to be disturbed and I have another blanket if you don't mind sleeping outside."
"I'll write it down," Hattie promises, there probably being a blank hide or two in her abandoned pack. "No, you were right to do as you did. I might not have kids, but I understand it. I think most people would have done the same." It might be that sleep generally doesn't come easily to her, since despite that laziness, she doesn't drift herself, still oddly focused. Shaking her head a little, she says, "Not really. I should just be back in the morning. They can still reach Elaruth here if anybody is worried." She smiles faintly. "Sleep," she murmurs, nudging gently at his shoulder. << She is angry a lot of the time at a lot of things and people. Quietly. Sometimes it is not clear why, >> Elaruth answers, letting a little wave bob her about a bit. << A blizzard, yes, >> she softly agrees. << I wish there were a way we could make them sleep, sometimes. For their own good. >>
"Thank you," P'draig says sincerely for the list of names to be provided and his arm tightens around her just a little in silent thanks for that understanding about his decision to bring Dharia to Ista as soon as possible after she was declared healthy enough to make the trip. "I'd be happy for the company if you'd like to stay then," Paddy invites more clearly and chuckles softly at that nudge. "Let me get the other blanket." So saying he unwinds himself from her enough to pad over to where he left Jekzith's pack earlier and pulls out the other quilt, returns to where he left her to tidy things up a little, brush stray sand and wood shavings away, then arranges things so they can both be a little bit more comfortable. Settling back down alongside her, he offers her his arm for a pillow and rolls up his shirt beneath his own head. "I'm glad you stopped by this evening," he murmurs as he starts to get drowsy again and this time when he leans towards her, it's to kiss her on the mouth again, a gentle gesture. "If you need an ear, or just need some company for a while, even if you don't want to talk, just have Elaruth touch base with Jekzith," he adds on another invitation. Jekzith bobs up and down on the little waves, tail swishing back and forth to keep him mostly in place otherwise. << That must be hard, >> is the brown's honest opinion. << And you know, sometimes this works ... >> and he taps into a feeling of deep lassitude, shows how he slides it along the connection between himself and his rider and Elaruth might get a glimmer of how open that connection between the two of them is, not really closed at all.
Hattie scoots a little closer and takes up his offer of arm as pillow, dares to drape an arm over him if he allows it. She responds to that kiss in a leisurely way and curls up, eyes still open, though her breathing slows back to a more even and regular pace. "Thank you," she says softly. "And, well, you know. Same goes," she adds, a touch inelegantly, having achieved no great skill at such talk. "If ever there's a time." Elaruth concentrates, curious, apprehension and appreciation both evident in her touch. << I will consider trying that. She may not like me attempting it, but sometimes it may be necessary. >> The queen is happy to float companionably and ducks beneath the water a couple of times, bird-like, but there comes a time when sleep is necessary and she suggests heading back to the beach to curl up again until it's time to part. Though Hattie falls asleep sometime after P'draig, somehow mind and body still wake her before him and he might wake to find her lounged beside him, writing down those names as promised.
Curled together comfortably then, P'draig starts to drift again and smiles, voice thick with sleepiness. "Sleep well, Hattie," the brownrider murmurs, even if she lies wakeful for a while longer. She'll be spared for a little while, from his snores at least, though yes, he /does/ snore, though not horribly. Jekzith lingers out in the water for a time, sometimes skimming out deeper then returning with reports of what he saw until that suggestion to head back up to the beach is made. He's happy enough to go along with it and curl up as companionably as their riders, though perhaps not so close. Though P'draig is still in the habit of waking at the crack of dawn, he sleeps a little later than his usual and will thus be woken by the scratching of Hattie's pen to usher in the new day before a friendly, but affectionate parting.
When: Night, day 22, month 5, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: After an intimate interlude, Hattie and Paddy share understanding and comfort. Continued from No Games.
It's very dark out with neither of the moons at full, though they do continue to slant moonbeams across the sky, glancing off of a cloud here and there. Jekzith has settled quietly on the beach however, companionably near Elaruth perhaps, though he is awake and looks out at the night-touched waves that rush up onto the beach with the quiet sushing sound of the tide going out. P'draig lies on one side on that blanket of his, and arm curled around the goldrider at his side, just breathing, face turned towards her, eyes closed for the moment. The cries that broke the stillness of the night not so long ago have faded away, leaving only the sound of heartbeats and the ocean in their wake.
Also awake, Elaruth has curled up not precisely facing the ocean she observes the movement of, but at an angle that allows her to lie with her head against her flank and watch whilst at rest. Though Hattie might have been silently studying what facial features of P'draig that she can make out in the dark, now her eyes are likewise closed and she breathes slowly in and out with what must either be absolute calm or an effort to keep her breathing in a perfectly even rhythm. It's just not clear which is it, yet the fact that she hasn't really moved or tried to scramble away might betray one rather than the other.
During that study, Hattie would likely have found the telltale signs of encroaching middle age, if the light fell right to catch at the fine lines that are starting to linger at the corners of P'draig's eyes. Beyond that, his expression is serene, the flush in his cheeks after shared activity slow-fading. Beyond that seeming calm, there's also hints of fatigue to be found and perhaps subtle traces of grief, very subtle. After a moment, Jekzith turns to aim a light bump of his head towards Elaruth's side, playful affection. << Look at how the moonbeams get scattered around by the water, >> he points out. << It's pretty. >> P'draig takes a longer, slower, deeper breath and runs his hand lightly up Hattie's arm. His eyes open and he looks down at her, still doesn't say anything: his turn to study the cast of her features, what can be seen of them in the dark, his expression open, frank, with a certain warmth to it, though only of the fond sort.
She's more than good at control and there's little to be read on Hattie's features for the time during which her eyes are closed, perhaps some sort of internal murmurings going on there. When she opens her eyes, however, there's an almost awkward moment or two when she doesn't seem to have everything in order and control escapes her, concern, apprehension and something like fear plain there to see. Once she's managed to mask at least some of the last of those, she reaches out to curve a hand carefully around his shoulder, a quiet question following. "Are you okay?" Rather tired, Elaruth touches her tail gently to Jekzith's flank in turn instead of lifting her head, though her mindvoice doesn't drag with fatigue. << We should get them to remember that for us too. There are patterns. >> Patterns which aren't consistent, but she traces them over the marshland of her mind, silver steady over still water.
That concern and fear knit P'draig's brows, even when her hand lifts to his shoulder. His lifts to brush againt her cheek lightly, the same gesture that started them down this particular path. "Just fine," the brownrider answers with a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "It's -- it's been a while," he does mention after a moment though, "since I was last with a woman." His thumb lingers, traces the line of her jaw unless she moves away. "You? You -- you looked scared there for a bit. Or worried." Jekzith collects little bits of silver light, floats them off into the ether in a bubble. << Oh you're right! There are, >> he sees them when she shows them to him. << I'm sure P'draig will remember. He probably knows what to call some of those things. >>
A very eloquent, "Oh..." is all that initially follows that shared information, confusion or concern again narrowing Hattie's eyes and prompting her to tilt her head just slightly, though the latter might be to follow the touch at her jaw. "Why?" she finally asks, quiet still. His question has her gaze finding a distant point somewhere in the sky or abandoning focus entirely. "...I don't usually... I mean, I'm not... I don't go around meeting people on beaches and..." And the obvious. "And I probably shouldn't." But she has. << They will remember, >> Elaruth agrees, considering the ocean again. << Do you think it would be nice to float? >> She thinks of wings stretched out over water, soothing perhaps.
Silent while she questions, as she works through what she needs to say, P'draig takes a breath and reaches up to tuck back an errant strand of her hair. "If it helps any, I didn't assume that about you," the brownrider says softly. "And I don't expect anything from you," Paddy adds. "But I hope there's no regrets, because I have none." He stops there, smiles a little then backtracks to her question. "As for why," a shadow gathers on his face that has little to do with the lack of light and the answer is a single word, a name. "Phara." Jekzith stretches out, nose to tail and pushes to his feet, apparently very rarely without some energy. << The water usually feels good, cooler at night. If you like it cool? >>
"No," Hattie murmurs, of regrets, focusing again. "But I was recently reminded that my knot means that I don't get to behave like everyone else, or decide what's inappropriate or not. And this... would be inappropriate." At the uttering of that name, she says nothing for a short while, uneven breaths possibly conveying the existence of words but a certain lack of choice as to which to let out. In the end, she means to tuck her face into the crook of his neck in an attempt to comfort that way instead. Eventually, she asks, "How is her daughter getting on?" Elaruth is reasonably slow to rise and stretch, yet never truly quick to move at all. << Cool would be nice. >> For it matches the temperature of the water in her voice. << Let's go see. >> Paws pad towards the shore, muzzle nosing at the water once it's reached.
Ultimately, P'draig's hand drops to soothe along Hattie's back, comfort offered in return. "You can count on my discretion, Hattie," the brownrider says quietly. "I know what rank and position usually demand and at one time, I slipped up myself. The weight might not be as heavy for a weyrlingmaster, but there's still expectations and it's a hard lesson to learn." He swallows down a lump in his throat and bends to drift a kiss to her forehead. "Dharia's doing beautifully, she's a happy, healthy baby for all she made an early entrance. You can barely tell now, how early. I just have to remind myself sometimes still, that Phara wanted a family, wanted a baby and when it happened, she was happy. And what happened is just a sad and unlucky thing. I have a bad habit sometimes, of taking on too much responsibility. T'mic razzes me about it all the time, but he also looks out for me and tries to make sure I'm not doing that." His hand continues to move gently along her shoulder blade. "For a while, I struggled with blaming myself. But in the end, it was just bad luck." Deep breath. "Would you like to see Dharia sometime?" Jekzith's movement towards the water is much more energetic. He trots, though not so fast as to leave Elaruth behind and he kind of leapfrogs the surf to get out deep enough to a spot where they can float. << There's something good about cool or warm. Depending on what you're in the mood for. >>
Hattie says nothing more about rank, simple, grateful words of thanks said softly as far as she goes to address it, more to be read in what can be seen of her expression and the slow release of tension recently wound through her shoulders than anything else. Brown eyes seek to find his gaze in the dark and hold it before she starts to speak. "She wanted a baby, she chose to keep her and neither one of you had any idea, or, I assume, any indication that things would turn out how they have. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. So don't," she agrees, "blame yourself. Dharia survived and there's that to be thankful for." The goldrider continues to speak quietly, but with more certainty than she's demonstrated in the last few minutes. Another few seconds and she nods. "If it wouldn't be an intrusion, then I would like to see her sometime, yes." The queen is more sedate about following out into the water, paws picked up as soon as she's deep enough to float, wings not unfurled until she's travelled further a little more. << I find that cool is calming in a different way to warmth, >> Elaruth responds, staying reasonably close to the brown, as much as her wings will allow.
Gray-blue eyes meet brown steadily and P'draig smiles a little, only nods for that thanks, the understanding simple, straightforward. "Sometimes, the things you know in your head, it's harder to convince your heart to follow along with," the brownrider says, lets his hand wander down her back again, arm settling comfortably around her waist. "But no, it wasn't anyone's fault. It's just very sad that it happened that way. When she gets older, I'm hoping some of Phara's closer friends at Fort and Telgar and her family, will be able to help me let Dharia know something of who her mother was. And as for intruding, no I wouldn't see it that way. And if anything it's very appropriate for a weyrwoman of Fort to take an interest in the daughter of one of Fort's riders," Paddy adds with a hint of wry amusement in his voice. << Warm can be relaxing. Cool is ... well I think it's refreshing and it helps to wake Paddy up, usually. >> Fondness for his rider bleeds through Jekzith's thoughts.
"I know," the goldrider says softly, eyes closed briefly. "And... I know some people who would be more than willing to do that. Some who might appreciate seeing her sooner. One -- she's quite young, but she felt very helpless about the whole thing and it might do her some good to see Dharia happy and healthy." With that tension gone, Hattie seems rather comfortable, lazy even, for once, and lapses into an easy silence. << Hattie's anger can be cool and warm. Hot. Depending on the situation, >> Elaruth remarks thoughtfully, speaking of the concept as if it's a concept alone, as though anger is quite foreign to her. << One blurs and the other clears. Like the temperatures. >>
While Hattie's eyes are closed, P'draig leans forward to kiss her forehead again, very gently. "Actually, if you could let me know who, I'd be happy to bring her by as often as I can. And maybe when she's a bit older, she can go for visits even. I -- was in a hurry to get her home here. To get things settled," he admits. "But there's more than just my feelings or needs to take into account." Hattie's comfort level seems to ease some of the concern that Paddy had too and as he lapses into silence as well, his head settles down onto the pillow of his own forearm, one knee bumping companionably up against hers. << It's hard to make P'draig angry really, >> Jekzith replies. << There's things that really really make him very angry and then it's like ... well you're right. Hot and cold at once. Hot feelings, but the anger is more like a blizzard howling hard. >> Anger isn't really a Jekzith thing either. Happy go-lucky brown that he is. << Yes! >> he agrees about the different temperatures. << P'draig does a lot and doesn't sleep enough so he needs the clearing up usually, more than the blurring. >> And indeed, Paddy starts to drift off into a doze, then starts a little, clears his throat. "Do you need to head back?" he asks quietly. "We're ... unlikely to be disturbed and I have another blanket if you don't mind sleeping outside."
"I'll write it down," Hattie promises, there probably being a blank hide or two in her abandoned pack. "No, you were right to do as you did. I might not have kids, but I understand it. I think most people would have done the same." It might be that sleep generally doesn't come easily to her, since despite that laziness, she doesn't drift herself, still oddly focused. Shaking her head a little, she says, "Not really. I should just be back in the morning. They can still reach Elaruth here if anybody is worried." She smiles faintly. "Sleep," she murmurs, nudging gently at his shoulder. << She is angry a lot of the time at a lot of things and people. Quietly. Sometimes it is not clear why, >> Elaruth answers, letting a little wave bob her about a bit. << A blizzard, yes, >> she softly agrees. << I wish there were a way we could make them sleep, sometimes. For their own good. >>
"Thank you," P'draig says sincerely for the list of names to be provided and his arm tightens around her just a little in silent thanks for that understanding about his decision to bring Dharia to Ista as soon as possible after she was declared healthy enough to make the trip. "I'd be happy for the company if you'd like to stay then," Paddy invites more clearly and chuckles softly at that nudge. "Let me get the other blanket." So saying he unwinds himself from her enough to pad over to where he left Jekzith's pack earlier and pulls out the other quilt, returns to where he left her to tidy things up a little, brush stray sand and wood shavings away, then arranges things so they can both be a little bit more comfortable. Settling back down alongside her, he offers her his arm for a pillow and rolls up his shirt beneath his own head. "I'm glad you stopped by this evening," he murmurs as he starts to get drowsy again and this time when he leans towards her, it's to kiss her on the mouth again, a gentle gesture. "If you need an ear, or just need some company for a while, even if you don't want to talk, just have Elaruth touch base with Jekzith," he adds on another invitation. Jekzith bobs up and down on the little waves, tail swishing back and forth to keep him mostly in place otherwise. << That must be hard, >> is the brown's honest opinion. << And you know, sometimes this works ... >> and he taps into a feeling of deep lassitude, shows how he slides it along the connection between himself and his rider and Elaruth might get a glimmer of how open that connection between the two of them is, not really closed at all.
Hattie scoots a little closer and takes up his offer of arm as pillow, dares to drape an arm over him if he allows it. She responds to that kiss in a leisurely way and curls up, eyes still open, though her breathing slows back to a more even and regular pace. "Thank you," she says softly. "And, well, you know. Same goes," she adds, a touch inelegantly, having achieved no great skill at such talk. "If ever there's a time." Elaruth concentrates, curious, apprehension and appreciation both evident in her touch. << I will consider trying that. She may not like me attempting it, but sometimes it may be necessary. >> The queen is happy to float companionably and ducks beneath the water a couple of times, bird-like, but there comes a time when sleep is necessary and she suggests heading back to the beach to curl up again until it's time to part. Though Hattie falls asleep sometime after P'draig, somehow mind and body still wake her before him and he might wake to find her lounged beside him, writing down those names as promised.
Curled together comfortably then, P'draig starts to drift again and smiles, voice thick with sleepiness. "Sleep well, Hattie," the brownrider murmurs, even if she lies wakeful for a while longer. She'll be spared for a little while, from his snores at least, though yes, he /does/ snore, though not horribly. Jekzith lingers out in the water for a time, sometimes skimming out deeper then returning with reports of what he saw until that suggestion to head back up to the beach is made. He's happy enough to go along with it and curl up as companionably as their riders, though perhaps not so close. Though P'draig is still in the habit of waking at the crack of dawn, he sleeps a little later than his usual and will thus be woken by the scratching of Hattie's pen to usher in the new day before a friendly, but affectionate parting.