Log: Live Adventurously
Who: Hattie, P'draig, Elaruth, Jekzith
When: Late morning to late afternoon, day 7, month 8, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: Deserted Island Out There Somewhere
What: Paddy and Hattie meet up for a discreet assignation. Conversation about holds and rights follows, so does lunch and Jekzith gets a taste of how loud/bright/rough the world is for Elaruth.
The last time Paddy met Hattie here, on a small deserted island, they made a couple of tall palm trees shake. This time, the brownrider had some foresight and a little bit more warning and actually got a thing or two ready ahead of time. Like the little makeshift shelter, sort of like a lean-to made out of the local bamboo that grows further inland, with a screening roof made of palm fronds. Very tropically exotic. Mostly it provides shade, which today probably proves necessary under the heat of the nooning sun. P'draig's also got a fire laid down on the beach, where some tubers are wrapped up to roast in the coals and fish caught earlier wait for the riders to be a little less er -- distracted before the get grilled. Jekzith doesn't drowse in the sun: he's busy darting along wavetops some distance out from the island, mind alive with the activity and eyes keen for the shapes of deep-sea creatures. Paddy lies on his back in the shade, eyes closed, breathing still irregular in the wake of very recent exertion, one foot tilted companionably towards the goldrider's, fingers of one hand still laced lazily through hers.
The rather tangled trail of clothes in the sand are likely going to have creases folded through them well and truly, which will do nothing to help Hattie's appearance later unless she can tame her hair, untangle and retrieve her ribbons and get rid of that smirk on her face. Luckily, the last lingers only a few moments more and the goldrider's eyes close, in no hurry to unwind her fingers from the brownrider's, though her efforts to calm her breathing involve pretending not to be out of breath at all, which only leads to it being all the more obvious that she is. Her free hand finds a knotted ribbon somewhere in the sand beside her and she laughs, flinging it behind her. "You're going to have to find the rest of those," she threatens, despite it not being obvious what 'those' are. Elaruth floats somewhere out in the ocean, not far from the island, her wings spread to catch the sun and her eyes slowly whirling in a shade to match the water.
A chuckle sounds, deep in P'draig's chest and he aims to lift her hand up towards his lips to kiss fingertips gently before he rolls up onto one hip, looks down at her with a lazily pleased look to him. "Find what? Our lost sense of propriety?" he questions teasingly and trails his hand up along the far side of her far arm. "I like the sound of that laughter," the brownrider tells her much more seriously, though his tone is still light enough. Jekzith turns, almost on a wingtip, body tucked up into a compact line and cruises towards Elaruth, a blue-green bubble floating her way ahead of his approach. << There's surf on the other side of the island, did you know? >>
Teasing though it is, that question has Hattie taking a breath in before she responds, what remains of her smile fixed unnaturally still for a moment. "I think you'll have far more trouble finding that than..." her fingers go fumbling for that flung ribbon and find nothing, find purchase curled around his elbow instead, "...my poor abused ribbons." Body unfrozen as well as her smile, she stretches slowly and her further words in response are far less serious than his. "Is that the only sound you like?" she asks, opening her eyes. Paddling round in a slow circle, Elaruth turns the way of the island to regard it from afar, nose dipped into the water briefly. << I did not. Should we go and see it? >> she asks of Jekzith, her sunlight quite the contrast to the present weather, cool and light.
"Mm, mine got tossed a long time ago, very thoroughly. Don't think it's findable at all," P'draig says, hand resting against her upper arm when she freezes so. His smile returns with her stretch. "Ribbons, well that might be a challenge, but I think I'm game." Gray-blue eyes consider Hattie with mock-solemnity as he slowly shakes his head. "No, but I'm thinking we should maybe grab a bite to eat, or at least a sip or two of water before we try for some of those other sounds again," the brownrider says quite deadpan. Jekzith skims over just above Elaruth, wheels back around again, his own bright colors a rainbow to sunshine. << It's fun to chase the foam. Or just watch it go flying up. The waves curl over on themselves and they're about the same color as your eyes are right now. So if you'd like to see, we should go! >>
"Sadly, mine returns intermittently. It's as if it has a fault," Hattie remarks, simply lying there all stretched out for a few seconds, then the tension leaves her and she carefully makes to sit up, in no particular hurry to move. "If you insist," she jokes, stretching her arms high over her head once she's sitting, elbows resting on her knees once she relaxes again. "Won't you be missed? I mean, aren't you needed anywhere?" she questions. Elaruth peers up, gaze seeking out Jekzith, and the queen has to gather herself to escape the ocean, the burst when she breaks free louder than any noise she usually makes, water sent in all directions. A moment to balance herself in the air and she agrees, << We will go see. It sounds interesting. I should like to see it. >>
"It didn't get the memo," P'draig jokes, snapping his fingers as they lift away when Hattie sits up. His gaze fixes on her spine, the play of muscles along her back as she stretches again and he scoots a little closer, traces the line of one shoulder blade with his thumb. "Not today," he answers quietly with a shake of his head. "I had duties this morning, rest of the day free, though I'll need to head back for supper with my kids before I go on duty to cook later," the brownrider explains. "It's one of the virtues of not having any kind of real position between clutches of weyrlings," he notes with another chuckle. "I have almost more time than I really know what to do with." Paddy sits up then, legs folding beneath him and strong hands reach for Hattie's shoulders, not to seduce but to massage. Jekzith's wings beat a little more strongly, lift him up into the air as he points his nose in the right direction. << Let's go ! It's not far, just cruise riight around those rocks that tumble out into the sea there and it starts up on the other side! >>
Hattie laughs again, quieter, more a murmur of agreement than anything else. "I think," she considers, "that having that much time would drive me mad. Elaruth might like it... I don't know. I suppose I've never faced having the time or not knowing something needed sorting in the very near future." No regret for that and her body betrays her, shoulders arching against P'draig's hands. Again, she goes still for a second or two and though she might relax once more, she says nothing about it and looks out at the ocean, deceptively calm. "Do you enjoy it? Having the time." Dipping down a little to allow her wings to catch the currents over the water, Elaruth then soars straight up, waiting for Jekzith before she starts off in the correct direction, drifting with no real urgency to how she flies, content to get there whenever she does. << It doesn't hurt to stand in the way of the foam? >>
P'draig's hands continue to do their work other than a slight pause when her shoulders arch so. "Yes and no. I like being in charge of my own time, I guess is the way to put it." Thumbs slide along shoulder-blades' edges seeking out knots where they tend to collect on many people. "But like I said before, I'm not really all that good at not being busy. I find things to fill the time with. I'm starting a building project for example, now," the brownrider says with a slightly bemused laugh. "And it's likely I'll actually use the end result to open a restaurant." He starts circling around possible knots with both thumbs, the rest of his fingers hooked over the goldrider's shoulders. "I get restless if I don't stay busy. Just feels wrong somehow to do nothing for too long." Jekzith's wings beat steadily, then speed up to let him cut fun zig zags across the waves. << Depends on where. Just cast up foam, no, but if it's really gotten slammed down by a wave, that could. >>
"But I mean... is it good? Maybe not the time itself, just the... knowing it's there? Knowing it's yours to do with as you will?" Hattie questions, looking back over one shoulder just barely, not truly able to direct her gaze anywhere to fix it specifically. With that failure, she peers back out across the beach. "So, wait, you're not going to use the building as a house of sorts anymore? You're going to open a restaurant instead?" Her head tilts and she frowns, unseen. "How do you feel about that? Or have I got the wrong idea?" Her shoulders move again, flexing slowly, unremarked upon again. << I will attempt to avoid the latter, >> Elaruth decides, looking down to spot a suitable place in which to land. << If that is possible. I imagine it would sting like ice. >>
"Yes, I think it's good, being able to do other things than just duty. Not that I'm knocking being a rider, but well, teaching weyrlings is more interesting than doing most sweeps, you know?" P'draig pauses again as Hattie looks over her shoulder, reaches up to smooth her hair out a little, fingers catching in tiny curls. "Both actually. It'll still be a house. I'm thinking the restaurant tables will be outside on the porch. It's Ista, so you know, other than rain, there's not really much of a reason to be inside," the brownrider points out and he takes a breath. "I'm going to try for my journeyman's knot too. So ... it's all kind of exciting really. Making a long-held dream come true." His hands resume their work, fingers tracing the flex of muscles first, then applying firm pressure. << Some of it is like a slap in the face if you're not careful, >> Jekzith provides, then his tone turns jaunty: << but we'll be careful! >> And he angles again so he's coming in over the breakers, tail lashing downward to skim the surface of a rising, curving wave. Careful?
"I don't get to see the weyrlings a lot, but I taught the last class for an afternoon. It was... fun." A rare word for her to use in that context. "I suppose they must be much more interesting than sweeps," Hattie quietly decides, literal as always. Silent for a little while, thinking, she eventually says, "You could fence off a little area and have some on the sand too, if there was the need." Then she's grinning and she looks back again; instead arches slowly, right back, head tipped back so that she might look up at him and tease, "Does this knot mean that the tables will turn, so to speak, and you'll have to sit in classes and take lessons?" Elaruth /is/ careful, slowing to land without forcing intense pressure through her paws when they touch down, padding about just a little when she has. << Together? >> she proposes, eyeing the waves and the foam curiously.
"It's always a challenge," P'draig agrees about teaching weyrlings being fun. "It's never the same twice, even if they lessons they need to learn are technically the same," the brownrider explains. "But really in the end, even when they're learning as a group, learning how to be a team, a lot of the learning curve is re-learning themselves with a dragon and every dragon and weyrling is unique." His hands ease, run light up over her shoulders and outward as she leans back. P'draig's head tilts in turn, lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I don't know for sure, it definitely means taking the journeyman's exams, so I've been practicing the things that're expected. I guess if I don't do well enough, I might have to shadow a journeyman or master at the Weyr or the Hold." Paddy grins down a the goldrider, eyes dancing with mischief. "You just want to tease me about being a student again, don't you?" Meanwhile, Jekzith touches down on the beach too and sniffs at the foamy sea air. << Yes! Together! >> With typically bright enthuiasm. << Ready? Set? >> Wings fan out and his body coils to spring again.
"Yes. Yes, I do," Hattie admits, grinning unrepentantly even as she sits back up again, quiet laughter still audible. "I think it's hilarious that you might have to call somebody 'sir' when you're used to 'sir' being you. What can I say? I have a twisted sense of humour?" Turning again, she plants a hand in the sand to keep her balanced and just smirks up at the brownrider. "Hope you won't hold it against me?" From the way Elaruth moves, it looks as if she tries to sneak up on the ocean, tucked low to the ground and slinking forward quite quickly for her. << Go! >> sounds from her mind after her first couple of steps and then she's throwing herself in the path of the foam, head dipped to avoid the worst of it.
Leaning in closer, even as Hattie turns about, P'draig aims a kiss for the outward curve of her neck. "I call the Weyrleader 'sir'," he notes with amusement. "And when I'm assisting instead of Weyrlingmaster, often a 'sir' then too, unless it's 'ma'am'," Paddy adds. "But I wouldn't hold it against you anyway." His hands run up her arms again warmly, give her shoulders a renewed squeeze. "Hungry?" he inquires, mildly. "Won't take long to grill up the fish, but I bet those tubers are about ready." Jekzith somehow makes himself into a very narrow and streamlined target as he dives in as well with Elaruth's signal. He might just wind up crowned in foam with a salty tracery showing starkly against the dark earthiness of his muzzle.
"Ah yes, but you are not a poor lowly apprentice to the Weyrleader," Hattie means to reply against his jaw in a low voice, still smiling wickedly. "I think they should make you wear an apprentice knot too, you know," she teases. Leaning away, she sobers to amend, "Teasing aside, I do think it's a good idea." Mostly serious, anyhow, mirth not quite gone from her gaze. "And yes, food sounds good." Elaruth might be tiny for her colour, but she can't make herself as streamlined as Jekzith and winds up looking as if somebody has traced the outline of where the skirt of a short gather dress should fit on her, white patterns low on flanks and high on legs, complete with little boots traced around ankles and wrists.
P'draig laughing, P'draig shakes his head. "No, I'm not and would you believe I still have my apprentice knot and apron?" The brownrider's hands linger along skin for a moment, then he pushes up to his feet, holds out both hands to the goldrider. "Coming with, or would you rather lounge comfortably in the shade while I toil and sweat in the sun for your pleasure?" Foam and surf lift and crash all around through that mad dash and one big wave forms up, comes curling towards them causing Jekzith to swerve upward to avoid it. His paws cut through that crest and his tail leaves a white trail behind him even so. << Whoo! >> is the simple, excited commentary.
"Oh, well, then you /definitely/ have to wear the knot," Hattie declares, all the while making a show of considering whether or not to reach out and take P'draig's hands. "I suppose I should accompany you. You might get into trouble otherwise or camp out there without me." She finds her feet in a reasonably elegant manner, unbalanced on sand for a fraction of a second, steadying quickly. "Lead on, then," the goldrider jokes, making a gesture as through to herd with one hand. The queen in the surf remains silent and finally finds the will to look up and not move with her head down, nose reaching to touch foam. Though Elaruth sneezes and seems startled, she bounds on anyway and only sunlight and faint mist drift from her mental touch, the former growing brighter and brighter.
"Just the knot?" P'draig quips as he helps Hattie up, grin full of mischief. "Do you cook, actually?" he asks curiously as they make their way down the slope of sand towards the water where Paddy built that fire earlier. He hunkers down upon arrival, mindless of being completely in the buff and picks up a pair of tongs from where he left them, resting atop his partially unrolled knife kit. These are used to fish the wrapped tubers out of the embers and to tweak the wrapping aside to test the doneness of each tuber. Nodding, he sets these aside to cool, then he reaches for the fish, kept cool in a bucket of ice that's pretty well melted by now, and sets them atop the grating the stands over the embers. Jekzith pulls up as the get out beyond where the waves hit the unseen shelf below and go high, merely swells out here. His own thoughts tinge with gold and rose, exultation plain. << That was /great/! Want to go again? P'draig's little girl is learning how to ride waves, though not as big as those yet. >>
The goldrider looks the brownrider slowly up and down shamelessly. "Just the knot," Hattie replies, deadpan. "And no. Never had need to. Overseen cooks and kitchen workers, though." More wary of being unclothed than her company, she looks about as she walks and ventures further than the fire, to stare out across the water and at the gentle waves. "I guess you might think me spoiled now, but I /was/ the eldest child and the Hold /should/ have been mine," she says, glancing back only to cast her voice. << In a little bit? >> Elaruth suggests, regret or apology plain to hear in her voice. << It does not take much for it to be... too much, >> she adds softly. << I should not like it not to be fun. >> Paddle, paddle, nose in water, strangely shy for a moment.
Laughter echoes first, then P'draig nods as he settles the fish atop the grate, sprinkles each boned and gutted fillet with salt and pepper. The fish sizzles and spits briefly as water drips and hot metal meets cool flesh. Sitting back on his heels, Paddy tracks the goldrider to where she stands. "No, not spoiled. Just the way things go." He looks up to meet her gaze expression curious. "Your family isn't into women inheriting?" Jekzith is a little surprised by that answer, but glides down to a landing nearby. << Too much spray?>>
"My mother would have it said that my father didn't name me heiress because the Hold would have consumed me; that he sent me away so I wouldn't be under my brother's power," Hattie answers in a voice that would be empty were it not for the fair amount of scorn woven through, reply given to the sea. "But what would she know?" she mutters, turning from the ocean to pace back towards the fire. "It doesn't matter now. And my brother is wrapped around the little finger of his young wife, the Hold second to her." Slowly escaping the ocean, Elaruth doesn't immediately answer and only does when she is still. << There is the spray, the ocean, the air. How it all sounds, moves, feels. Each drop, it sometimes feels like. Everything. It can be too much. I am sorry. >>
"Consumed you," P'draig echoes slowly and gives the fish a little nudge with the tongs, testing. "Interesting word choice," he murmurs and rests his hands across his knees, tongs dangling in relaxed fashion from his fingers. "And being weyrwoman is different," he states, more than questions, eyes on her again as she walks towards him. "In my experience, power and leadership have little to do with body parts," he taps the side of his head. "Comes up here. And well, other than being weyrlingmaster it's why I tend to avoid leading. I'm not cut out for it. Too much of a caregiver." He grins there, eyes crinkling up at the corners, something about saying that is humorous to him. Jekzith tags along after Elaruth, head tilted to the side, curious. << Every drop? Really? Is that -- is that something you can share? What that feels like? >>
"It would have. And I would have gladly let it," the goldrider states, scorn gone and only the emptiness left in its wake. "In my experience, women can do almost everything to the equal if not better than a man can. The trouble is convincing most of them of it. Being weyrwoman /is/ different. A Weyr won't ever belong to anyone, it's just a loan. A place and people to look after temporarily." Hattie tries to grin in return as she keeps pacing, mostly managing the attempt quite well. "You are who you are. It's always better to know that than not. Whatever it means you are." The pale queen tucks wings and tail close to her body, regarding Jekzith whilst she arranges herself. << I have not tried before. I did not think anybody would wish to feel that. It can hurt. >> Elaruth reaches her head out towards the brown and suggests, << Come here? I will try if you wish. >>
Listening, P'draig's attention only wavers long enough to flip the fish over, pretty sear lines along the cooked side and the scent of fresh-cooked fish permeates the air, could be mouth-wateringly good. He sets the tongs down, reaches into a basket to pull out two plates and busies himself with cutting open the baked tubers while the fish finishes up. His hands are deft, slitting open brown skines and pressing the creamy white insides of the tubers upward. Butter is shaved from a brick held cool in a pottery container onto each tuber and a sprinkle of golden-yellow cheese added on top of that from another compartment in the same container. Setting down the plates, he reaches for the tongs again to flip the fish over again, setting each at an angle to how they were placed before. "Would you have been happy that way? Consumed?" Paddy asks mildly, eyes ilfting up to her face, though his brows lift a little. "Isn't any place just as much a temporary thing? It's only as long as you're alive and able, hold, craft or weyr," he notes philosophically. A moment later, the fish are flipped one last time, perfect grill-marks on both sides and put onto the plates alongide the tubers. "Here, this isn't my fanciest cooking, but it should taste really good anyway." One plate offered up to the goldrider. "And ... yes. Half of weyrlinghood is figuring that out. Who you are and how you fit with your dragon, who you are together, who you are alone." Jekzith's paws fold atop each other, but there's something about his posture even as he 'sits' that speaks of alertnes. << I'm interested in what the world feels like to you. That and well ... I'm used to sharing a lot of things with P'draig. And with other dragons. Sometimes he wants me to share things with another person for him. >> He pushes up a bit, scoots closer, re-settles, nose extending to meet Elaruth's.
"Yes. It meant everything to me. It was what I was meant to do," Hattie insists, ceasing her pacing to observe the goings-on. "If a Hold is your blood's, then it's /yours/. You can do what you wish with it. You can't simply do what you please with a Weyr. You /shouldn't/, rather. Arguably, you shouldn't with a Hold either, but it's /yours/ and you'd have far more freedom to. You wouldn't have to put up with things you might otherwise." She breathes out sharply and abandons her rant in favour of food, calming enough to say, "Thank you," as fingers curl round the edge of the plate. Elaruth gently rests her nose against Jekzith's, the contact there for any number of reasons: to make it easier for her, just to reassure her and everything in-between. << I am sorry if it hurts, >> she murmurs, silent thereafter as far as words go. The feel of the water filters in first, faint, building to pinpricks over hide that give way to burning as the number of touches increases. Then there's the sound, the roar of the ocean itself and the patter of droplets hitting her frame, the chill of the air swept through as it brushes over and around not only her, but nearby shapes and figures, distracting grains of sand scattered beneath and over paws, felt sharp enough to cut. Another wall falls and everything rushes in at once, assaulting the senses with enough force to make it impossible to filter one or another out without assistance, just the hurt and indecision as to which to try to get rid of left, pressure pressing down. It's enough to have Hattie suddenly pressing a hand to her forehead, her eyes closed as a quiet curse escapes her.
"Plenty of people feel that way about their home Weyrs too you know, Hattie," P'draig says mildly. "I still feel strong loyalty to Fort, though it's shifted over of course, to Ista. If you ever meet my sister, she's the headwoman at the Reaches and well shells, if we had a flag, she'd be waving it," he says with a laugh, then nods, sobering. "No, no one should be doing 'whatever they want' with anything they're responsible for. It's really the duty of a leader, any leader, to do what's best to the best of his or her ability. Cotholders have a habit of voting with their feet if they don't like the current holder. I know it doesn't happen that often, but holds do get voted out of the bloodline from time to time." The plate taken, Paddy's head bobs. "You're welcome. Enjoy." He settles down onto the sand, passes a fork over from the kit to the goldrider and starts to dig into his food. Over on the other side of the island, Jekzith is attentive and still, though energy still thrums through his frame. When the gradual onslaught begins, at first, it's instinct for Jekzith to just filter it, but then he quells that part of his mind and deliberately leaves himself open to it. Paddy's got a bite of fish halfway to his mouth when it surges up along the connection between him and his brown and he narrows his eyes, concentrates for a moment, then looks over his shoulder in the direction where the dragons are. "He asked her to," he tells Hattie quietly and puts his plate down, reaches over to take the goldrider's in case she should drop it and aims to take her hand in his. Meanwhile, Jekzith lets the flood reach something of a fever pitch, eyelids dropping in protest, until he can't take it anymore and he lets he filters slide up into place with the connection between himself and Elaruth still open. << It's like this all the time? >> he asks in wonderment, shaking his head as if he still hears vtols buzzing, but extending what's intended as a soothing touch towards the little queen.
In no state to argue anything, it's questionable whether Hattie hears the explanation as to why her queen has just let everything get a good deal past overloaded, and it's just as well P'draig takes that plate from her, being that her hands shake enough for it to have slipped from her grasp. She curses vehemently again to fill the silence on her part and spends what turns out to be a few minutes putting herself and Elaruth back together and safely under wraps again, her hand kept at an odd angle to curl one finger around one of the brownrider's like a ring or knot without even noticing. Folding her legs beneath her, she sits and mutters, "Well, if that doesn't work to keep me from expressing my opinion, I don't know what does," dryly, one hand fumbling for her plate. "Sorry about that." Once everything is all hidden away and dampened to a manageable level, Elaruth responds, << A great deal of the time. She helps. But she cannot help always or with certain things, >> leaning gently into that touch, grateful.
Silent, P'draig keeps his hand wrapped around Hattie's, reaches across with his other hand to steady her shoulder and waits until she's re-surfaced. "Don't be. He asked," Paddy repeats himself. "Jekzith is ... he's kind of like an eternal toddler in some ways. Curious about everything." Beat. "And he's used to doing a lot of ... bridging. Sharing. From me to him to another dragon to their rider and back, for example, not to mention running interference with young dragons for weyrling groups." The brown's nose nuzzles gently but mentally, it's like cool blue sisal ribbons extending towards Elaruth to soothe away the agitation of the mind as much as the physical. << No she'd probably be too busy a lot of the time, >> Jekzith has to concede, but he's mulling this over. << Did ... anyone teach you to shield and filter? >>
"I don't think she should have done it. She's a queen, she could have hurt him by accident," Hattie says, tightly wound and words clipped. "I think she forgets sometimes. It used to bother me, that she doesn't really act like a queen. Doesn't lord it over anyone. But she wants what she wants, does what she does." She finds the end of the fork on the edge of her plate and curls her fingers more tightly around his for a moment before releasing them. "It'll get cold," she teases, nodding towards his plate. Head dipped a little, Elaruth's eyes close and she gradually relaxes, soothing helping her wind back down. << Yes. But a lot was to separate me from her so she would not feel it all the time, >> the queen explains. << I can filter things out, but never everything, even when she helps. I don't know if I would like to even if I could. It is useful, even if it can hurt. >> Her eyes open again suddenly and she asks, << I did not hurt you? >>
"He's all right, Hattie," P'draig says very seriously and shakes his head. "Queen or no queen, I think he'd be able to manage," the brownrider says with a little quirk to the edge of his mouth and nods, draws back to pick up his plate again, starts to dig in once more. << Well see, it's not so much that you'd need to filter anything out. You can let it all through, but you also just kind of ... slip something in between so that it's not /so much/. >> He considers for a moment or two. << Kind of like those undergarments that some women wear. Paddy thinks about those a fair bit. You can still /see/ everything, but it's sort of made hazier. Veiled. That make sense? >> And Jekzith is so very earnest about his analogy. So earnest. It's P'draig who starts laughing, head ducking over his plate as he catches wind of the tail end of some of the brown's imagery. << Or like looking through slightly cloudy water into a pool. You can still see everything but it's not quite so sharp. >> Jekzith gives Elaruth another fond nuzzle. << No. It was kind of like stubbing your toe. It did /hurt/ when it first hit, but then it goes away fast. >>
Silence from Hattie probably means that the food is pretty damn good, what with her being focused on her plate and not arguing a point for once. That is, until she seems to almost choke and feigns wide-eyed shock to demand, "Is your Jekzith telling my Elaruth about women's underwear?" The weyrwoman waits a few seconds for some more of her queen's images and words to make it through to her and adds, "Thinking of veiling and /women's underwear/ is an example? I hope you don't tell your weyrlings that!" She doesn't make it even halfway to stern and loses it with her fork halfway to her mouth, plate almost empty. Elaruth is able to take everything much more seriously than her rider, and though she doesn't leap upon the undergarments analogy, she likes the pool idea well enough. << But what if you lose something important by dulling it? Hattie thinks details are important. >> She nuzzles back at Jekzith gently, smoothing carefully. << Good. I'm glad. >>
Still laughing heartily, P'draig can only nod at first, then scrubs at his cheek as the laughs taper off a little. "No, not usually. I try to work with them on things that actually work for them. For some a blanket has meaning, or drawing a curtain, things like that." Jekzith's mental tone is a little dubious: << I don't think P'draig's ever missed a detail when there was underwear like that involved, >> he says quite seriously. << But I guess you could miss something if it got too cloudy. I guess there's kind of a trick, to not missing anything, but not getting overloaded at the same time. >> Little iridescent bubbles float free from his mind, carrying lighter thoughts with them, single sensations, one at a time. << It was interesting to feel it. Really feel it. P'draig thinks it's a good thing for him to understand too. In case we have a weyrling who thinks that way sometime. >>
Hattie eventually gets round to finishing what remains on her plate and sets it down reasonably carefully. "You'd be mad not to go after that knot," she states, stretching her arms above her head again. "And I'm going to pretend you said 'no, never', not 'no, not usually'," she jokes, grinning. Little Elaruth must be very innocent for all her colour and her rider. Or just that good at playing it. << I see. I will see if it works. >> One can only presume she's not talking about underwear. << Perhaps it would be better to try with more familiar things, to be certain what is there and what might have been missed. It could be adjusted that way. >>
Grinning, P'draig bobs his head. "Thanks," for the compliment about the cooking, though his gaze lingers on her, stretching so. "Every now and then there's a guy who'd appreciate that kind of thought process. So you know. Maybe, 'very rarely'. But I don't tend to dismiss things out of hand just because they might be a little salacious. Of course, there's a difference between a nineteen year old weyrling and a fourteen year old to be considered too, but thankfully, I haven't had to train any out and out children to be riders for several turns now." His plate is finished off, hers collected and set aside. Paddy reaches for the goldrider's hand then, give it a playful little tug and leans over to kiss her cheek. "More fun in the shade, or swim?" he proposes with a smile. "I've got a few more hours before I need to head back." Jekzith ponders clouded water, clearing and re-clouding it in slow succession. << It's worth a try and yes! Definitely, a good way to practice. Or it can be like some of the training games when you're doing visuals and other things. I can send you pictures and you send back to me to see if you missed anything. >>
"I hope you save that kind of talk for later in training - I'd hate to think you've been winding up some poor sexually frustrated weyrlings with talk of underwear," Hattie replies with raised eyebrows and another grin. "Though some of them might deserve it, so carry right on," she decides. Dark eyes roam out across to the ocean as she allows her hand to be caught and her head tilts, considering. "I sort of want to say both, but that there ocean is hardly a convenient pool." Which speaks volumes of what she's got up to in bathing pools before. Hopefully only hers. "Then, I might not be thinking adventurously." Elaruth dips her head again and softly touches her muzzle to Jekzith's neck. << Yes, we can do that. It would be fun, besides. >>
P'draig laughs again, shakes his head. "No, I haven't. It's funny, if it had been just a few turns later that I moved to Ista, you'd have known first hand, because I'd have been your Weyrlingmaster." That train of thought though, gets duly interrupted by Hattie's request and there's the mischief back in Paddy's eyes as he pushes to his feet, aims to tug her up with him. "Live adventurously," he challenges with /such/ a grin. "That might not be a pool but ..." and Paddy has the audacity to wink at her as he starts to walk backward towards the ocean. Jekzith is very very pleased, by the tenor of his thoughts, with how this has been worked. << Great! Just nudge me any time you want to try, here, there, anywhere! >>
"That would be all kinds of /wrong/," Hattie answers, managing to look fairly haunted by that thought, especially considering state of undress and the other subject currently running parallel. She finds her feet pretty quick and starts taking steps after him, her echo of, "But...?" laced with not enough innocence to counter that look in her eyes. As it turns out, if he makes it even a few steps into the water before she does something to distract him and twist that grin into something else, it'll have been a good effort. And though she might have mentioned the ocean, that doesn't mean that thoughts of the shade have been written off entirely, as he'll probably find out later almost as soon as there's any sort of pause to make remark or suggestion.
"Maybe," P'draig says rather solemnly, in the face of 'haunted'. Probably not the best time to be mentioning that he's hooked up with a former weyrling not once, but twice before. Shame on him. The questioned 'but' earns Hattie an explanation that's wordless and would probably qualify as salacious in many a person's book, distraction working quite nicely and definitely leading to adventurous living. Ocean water is very buoyant after all. Meanwhile, Jekzith actually runs out of steam for a little while at least and curls up with Elaruth for a while in the sun, to soak up its radiance before it's time to head back to separate duties once more.
When: Late morning to late afternoon, day 7, month 8, turn 21 of the 10th interval
Where: Deserted Island Out There Somewhere
What: Paddy and Hattie meet up for a discreet assignation. Conversation about holds and rights follows, so does lunch and Jekzith gets a taste of how loud/bright/rough the world is for Elaruth.
The last time Paddy met Hattie here, on a small deserted island, they made a couple of tall palm trees shake. This time, the brownrider had some foresight and a little bit more warning and actually got a thing or two ready ahead of time. Like the little makeshift shelter, sort of like a lean-to made out of the local bamboo that grows further inland, with a screening roof made of palm fronds. Very tropically exotic. Mostly it provides shade, which today probably proves necessary under the heat of the nooning sun. P'draig's also got a fire laid down on the beach, where some tubers are wrapped up to roast in the coals and fish caught earlier wait for the riders to be a little less er -- distracted before the get grilled. Jekzith doesn't drowse in the sun: he's busy darting along wavetops some distance out from the island, mind alive with the activity and eyes keen for the shapes of deep-sea creatures. Paddy lies on his back in the shade, eyes closed, breathing still irregular in the wake of very recent exertion, one foot tilted companionably towards the goldrider's, fingers of one hand still laced lazily through hers.
The rather tangled trail of clothes in the sand are likely going to have creases folded through them well and truly, which will do nothing to help Hattie's appearance later unless she can tame her hair, untangle and retrieve her ribbons and get rid of that smirk on her face. Luckily, the last lingers only a few moments more and the goldrider's eyes close, in no hurry to unwind her fingers from the brownrider's, though her efforts to calm her breathing involve pretending not to be out of breath at all, which only leads to it being all the more obvious that she is. Her free hand finds a knotted ribbon somewhere in the sand beside her and she laughs, flinging it behind her. "You're going to have to find the rest of those," she threatens, despite it not being obvious what 'those' are. Elaruth floats somewhere out in the ocean, not far from the island, her wings spread to catch the sun and her eyes slowly whirling in a shade to match the water.
A chuckle sounds, deep in P'draig's chest and he aims to lift her hand up towards his lips to kiss fingertips gently before he rolls up onto one hip, looks down at her with a lazily pleased look to him. "Find what? Our lost sense of propriety?" he questions teasingly and trails his hand up along the far side of her far arm. "I like the sound of that laughter," the brownrider tells her much more seriously, though his tone is still light enough. Jekzith turns, almost on a wingtip, body tucked up into a compact line and cruises towards Elaruth, a blue-green bubble floating her way ahead of his approach. << There's surf on the other side of the island, did you know? >>
Teasing though it is, that question has Hattie taking a breath in before she responds, what remains of her smile fixed unnaturally still for a moment. "I think you'll have far more trouble finding that than..." her fingers go fumbling for that flung ribbon and find nothing, find purchase curled around his elbow instead, "...my poor abused ribbons." Body unfrozen as well as her smile, she stretches slowly and her further words in response are far less serious than his. "Is that the only sound you like?" she asks, opening her eyes. Paddling round in a slow circle, Elaruth turns the way of the island to regard it from afar, nose dipped into the water briefly. << I did not. Should we go and see it? >> she asks of Jekzith, her sunlight quite the contrast to the present weather, cool and light.
"Mm, mine got tossed a long time ago, very thoroughly. Don't think it's findable at all," P'draig says, hand resting against her upper arm when she freezes so. His smile returns with her stretch. "Ribbons, well that might be a challenge, but I think I'm game." Gray-blue eyes consider Hattie with mock-solemnity as he slowly shakes his head. "No, but I'm thinking we should maybe grab a bite to eat, or at least a sip or two of water before we try for some of those other sounds again," the brownrider says quite deadpan. Jekzith skims over just above Elaruth, wheels back around again, his own bright colors a rainbow to sunshine. << It's fun to chase the foam. Or just watch it go flying up. The waves curl over on themselves and they're about the same color as your eyes are right now. So if you'd like to see, we should go! >>
"Sadly, mine returns intermittently. It's as if it has a fault," Hattie remarks, simply lying there all stretched out for a few seconds, then the tension leaves her and she carefully makes to sit up, in no particular hurry to move. "If you insist," she jokes, stretching her arms high over her head once she's sitting, elbows resting on her knees once she relaxes again. "Won't you be missed? I mean, aren't you needed anywhere?" she questions. Elaruth peers up, gaze seeking out Jekzith, and the queen has to gather herself to escape the ocean, the burst when she breaks free louder than any noise she usually makes, water sent in all directions. A moment to balance herself in the air and she agrees, << We will go see. It sounds interesting. I should like to see it. >>
"It didn't get the memo," P'draig jokes, snapping his fingers as they lift away when Hattie sits up. His gaze fixes on her spine, the play of muscles along her back as she stretches again and he scoots a little closer, traces the line of one shoulder blade with his thumb. "Not today," he answers quietly with a shake of his head. "I had duties this morning, rest of the day free, though I'll need to head back for supper with my kids before I go on duty to cook later," the brownrider explains. "It's one of the virtues of not having any kind of real position between clutches of weyrlings," he notes with another chuckle. "I have almost more time than I really know what to do with." Paddy sits up then, legs folding beneath him and strong hands reach for Hattie's shoulders, not to seduce but to massage. Jekzith's wings beat a little more strongly, lift him up into the air as he points his nose in the right direction. << Let's go ! It's not far, just cruise riight around those rocks that tumble out into the sea there and it starts up on the other side! >>
Hattie laughs again, quieter, more a murmur of agreement than anything else. "I think," she considers, "that having that much time would drive me mad. Elaruth might like it... I don't know. I suppose I've never faced having the time or not knowing something needed sorting in the very near future." No regret for that and her body betrays her, shoulders arching against P'draig's hands. Again, she goes still for a second or two and though she might relax once more, she says nothing about it and looks out at the ocean, deceptively calm. "Do you enjoy it? Having the time." Dipping down a little to allow her wings to catch the currents over the water, Elaruth then soars straight up, waiting for Jekzith before she starts off in the correct direction, drifting with no real urgency to how she flies, content to get there whenever she does. << It doesn't hurt to stand in the way of the foam? >>
P'draig's hands continue to do their work other than a slight pause when her shoulders arch so. "Yes and no. I like being in charge of my own time, I guess is the way to put it." Thumbs slide along shoulder-blades' edges seeking out knots where they tend to collect on many people. "But like I said before, I'm not really all that good at not being busy. I find things to fill the time with. I'm starting a building project for example, now," the brownrider says with a slightly bemused laugh. "And it's likely I'll actually use the end result to open a restaurant." He starts circling around possible knots with both thumbs, the rest of his fingers hooked over the goldrider's shoulders. "I get restless if I don't stay busy. Just feels wrong somehow to do nothing for too long." Jekzith's wings beat steadily, then speed up to let him cut fun zig zags across the waves. << Depends on where. Just cast up foam, no, but if it's really gotten slammed down by a wave, that could. >>
"But I mean... is it good? Maybe not the time itself, just the... knowing it's there? Knowing it's yours to do with as you will?" Hattie questions, looking back over one shoulder just barely, not truly able to direct her gaze anywhere to fix it specifically. With that failure, she peers back out across the beach. "So, wait, you're not going to use the building as a house of sorts anymore? You're going to open a restaurant instead?" Her head tilts and she frowns, unseen. "How do you feel about that? Or have I got the wrong idea?" Her shoulders move again, flexing slowly, unremarked upon again. << I will attempt to avoid the latter, >> Elaruth decides, looking down to spot a suitable place in which to land. << If that is possible. I imagine it would sting like ice. >>
"Yes, I think it's good, being able to do other things than just duty. Not that I'm knocking being a rider, but well, teaching weyrlings is more interesting than doing most sweeps, you know?" P'draig pauses again as Hattie looks over her shoulder, reaches up to smooth her hair out a little, fingers catching in tiny curls. "Both actually. It'll still be a house. I'm thinking the restaurant tables will be outside on the porch. It's Ista, so you know, other than rain, there's not really much of a reason to be inside," the brownrider points out and he takes a breath. "I'm going to try for my journeyman's knot too. So ... it's all kind of exciting really. Making a long-held dream come true." His hands resume their work, fingers tracing the flex of muscles first, then applying firm pressure. << Some of it is like a slap in the face if you're not careful, >> Jekzith provides, then his tone turns jaunty: << but we'll be careful! >> And he angles again so he's coming in over the breakers, tail lashing downward to skim the surface of a rising, curving wave. Careful?
"I don't get to see the weyrlings a lot, but I taught the last class for an afternoon. It was... fun." A rare word for her to use in that context. "I suppose they must be much more interesting than sweeps," Hattie quietly decides, literal as always. Silent for a little while, thinking, she eventually says, "You could fence off a little area and have some on the sand too, if there was the need." Then she's grinning and she looks back again; instead arches slowly, right back, head tipped back so that she might look up at him and tease, "Does this knot mean that the tables will turn, so to speak, and you'll have to sit in classes and take lessons?" Elaruth /is/ careful, slowing to land without forcing intense pressure through her paws when they touch down, padding about just a little when she has. << Together? >> she proposes, eyeing the waves and the foam curiously.
"It's always a challenge," P'draig agrees about teaching weyrlings being fun. "It's never the same twice, even if they lessons they need to learn are technically the same," the brownrider explains. "But really in the end, even when they're learning as a group, learning how to be a team, a lot of the learning curve is re-learning themselves with a dragon and every dragon and weyrling is unique." His hands ease, run light up over her shoulders and outward as she leans back. P'draig's head tilts in turn, lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I don't know for sure, it definitely means taking the journeyman's exams, so I've been practicing the things that're expected. I guess if I don't do well enough, I might have to shadow a journeyman or master at the Weyr or the Hold." Paddy grins down a the goldrider, eyes dancing with mischief. "You just want to tease me about being a student again, don't you?" Meanwhile, Jekzith touches down on the beach too and sniffs at the foamy sea air. << Yes! Together! >> With typically bright enthuiasm. << Ready? Set? >> Wings fan out and his body coils to spring again.
"Yes. Yes, I do," Hattie admits, grinning unrepentantly even as she sits back up again, quiet laughter still audible. "I think it's hilarious that you might have to call somebody 'sir' when you're used to 'sir' being you. What can I say? I have a twisted sense of humour?" Turning again, she plants a hand in the sand to keep her balanced and just smirks up at the brownrider. "Hope you won't hold it against me?" From the way Elaruth moves, it looks as if she tries to sneak up on the ocean, tucked low to the ground and slinking forward quite quickly for her. << Go! >> sounds from her mind after her first couple of steps and then she's throwing herself in the path of the foam, head dipped to avoid the worst of it.
Leaning in closer, even as Hattie turns about, P'draig aims a kiss for the outward curve of her neck. "I call the Weyrleader 'sir'," he notes with amusement. "And when I'm assisting instead of Weyrlingmaster, often a 'sir' then too, unless it's 'ma'am'," Paddy adds. "But I wouldn't hold it against you anyway." His hands run up her arms again warmly, give her shoulders a renewed squeeze. "Hungry?" he inquires, mildly. "Won't take long to grill up the fish, but I bet those tubers are about ready." Jekzith somehow makes himself into a very narrow and streamlined target as he dives in as well with Elaruth's signal. He might just wind up crowned in foam with a salty tracery showing starkly against the dark earthiness of his muzzle.
"Ah yes, but you are not a poor lowly apprentice to the Weyrleader," Hattie means to reply against his jaw in a low voice, still smiling wickedly. "I think they should make you wear an apprentice knot too, you know," she teases. Leaning away, she sobers to amend, "Teasing aside, I do think it's a good idea." Mostly serious, anyhow, mirth not quite gone from her gaze. "And yes, food sounds good." Elaruth might be tiny for her colour, but she can't make herself as streamlined as Jekzith and winds up looking as if somebody has traced the outline of where the skirt of a short gather dress should fit on her, white patterns low on flanks and high on legs, complete with little boots traced around ankles and wrists.
P'draig laughing, P'draig shakes his head. "No, I'm not and would you believe I still have my apprentice knot and apron?" The brownrider's hands linger along skin for a moment, then he pushes up to his feet, holds out both hands to the goldrider. "Coming with, or would you rather lounge comfortably in the shade while I toil and sweat in the sun for your pleasure?" Foam and surf lift and crash all around through that mad dash and one big wave forms up, comes curling towards them causing Jekzith to swerve upward to avoid it. His paws cut through that crest and his tail leaves a white trail behind him even so. << Whoo! >> is the simple, excited commentary.
"Oh, well, then you /definitely/ have to wear the knot," Hattie declares, all the while making a show of considering whether or not to reach out and take P'draig's hands. "I suppose I should accompany you. You might get into trouble otherwise or camp out there without me." She finds her feet in a reasonably elegant manner, unbalanced on sand for a fraction of a second, steadying quickly. "Lead on, then," the goldrider jokes, making a gesture as through to herd with one hand. The queen in the surf remains silent and finally finds the will to look up and not move with her head down, nose reaching to touch foam. Though Elaruth sneezes and seems startled, she bounds on anyway and only sunlight and faint mist drift from her mental touch, the former growing brighter and brighter.
"Just the knot?" P'draig quips as he helps Hattie up, grin full of mischief. "Do you cook, actually?" he asks curiously as they make their way down the slope of sand towards the water where Paddy built that fire earlier. He hunkers down upon arrival, mindless of being completely in the buff and picks up a pair of tongs from where he left them, resting atop his partially unrolled knife kit. These are used to fish the wrapped tubers out of the embers and to tweak the wrapping aside to test the doneness of each tuber. Nodding, he sets these aside to cool, then he reaches for the fish, kept cool in a bucket of ice that's pretty well melted by now, and sets them atop the grating the stands over the embers. Jekzith pulls up as the get out beyond where the waves hit the unseen shelf below and go high, merely swells out here. His own thoughts tinge with gold and rose, exultation plain. << That was /great/! Want to go again? P'draig's little girl is learning how to ride waves, though not as big as those yet. >>
The goldrider looks the brownrider slowly up and down shamelessly. "Just the knot," Hattie replies, deadpan. "And no. Never had need to. Overseen cooks and kitchen workers, though." More wary of being unclothed than her company, she looks about as she walks and ventures further than the fire, to stare out across the water and at the gentle waves. "I guess you might think me spoiled now, but I /was/ the eldest child and the Hold /should/ have been mine," she says, glancing back only to cast her voice. << In a little bit? >> Elaruth suggests, regret or apology plain to hear in her voice. << It does not take much for it to be... too much, >> she adds softly. << I should not like it not to be fun. >> Paddle, paddle, nose in water, strangely shy for a moment.
Laughter echoes first, then P'draig nods as he settles the fish atop the grate, sprinkles each boned and gutted fillet with salt and pepper. The fish sizzles and spits briefly as water drips and hot metal meets cool flesh. Sitting back on his heels, Paddy tracks the goldrider to where she stands. "No, not spoiled. Just the way things go." He looks up to meet her gaze expression curious. "Your family isn't into women inheriting?" Jekzith is a little surprised by that answer, but glides down to a landing nearby. << Too much spray?>>
"My mother would have it said that my father didn't name me heiress because the Hold would have consumed me; that he sent me away so I wouldn't be under my brother's power," Hattie answers in a voice that would be empty were it not for the fair amount of scorn woven through, reply given to the sea. "But what would she know?" she mutters, turning from the ocean to pace back towards the fire. "It doesn't matter now. And my brother is wrapped around the little finger of his young wife, the Hold second to her." Slowly escaping the ocean, Elaruth doesn't immediately answer and only does when she is still. << There is the spray, the ocean, the air. How it all sounds, moves, feels. Each drop, it sometimes feels like. Everything. It can be too much. I am sorry. >>
"Consumed you," P'draig echoes slowly and gives the fish a little nudge with the tongs, testing. "Interesting word choice," he murmurs and rests his hands across his knees, tongs dangling in relaxed fashion from his fingers. "And being weyrwoman is different," he states, more than questions, eyes on her again as she walks towards him. "In my experience, power and leadership have little to do with body parts," he taps the side of his head. "Comes up here. And well, other than being weyrlingmaster it's why I tend to avoid leading. I'm not cut out for it. Too much of a caregiver." He grins there, eyes crinkling up at the corners, something about saying that is humorous to him. Jekzith tags along after Elaruth, head tilted to the side, curious. << Every drop? Really? Is that -- is that something you can share? What that feels like? >>
"It would have. And I would have gladly let it," the goldrider states, scorn gone and only the emptiness left in its wake. "In my experience, women can do almost everything to the equal if not better than a man can. The trouble is convincing most of them of it. Being weyrwoman /is/ different. A Weyr won't ever belong to anyone, it's just a loan. A place and people to look after temporarily." Hattie tries to grin in return as she keeps pacing, mostly managing the attempt quite well. "You are who you are. It's always better to know that than not. Whatever it means you are." The pale queen tucks wings and tail close to her body, regarding Jekzith whilst she arranges herself. << I have not tried before. I did not think anybody would wish to feel that. It can hurt. >> Elaruth reaches her head out towards the brown and suggests, << Come here? I will try if you wish. >>
Listening, P'draig's attention only wavers long enough to flip the fish over, pretty sear lines along the cooked side and the scent of fresh-cooked fish permeates the air, could be mouth-wateringly good. He sets the tongs down, reaches into a basket to pull out two plates and busies himself with cutting open the baked tubers while the fish finishes up. His hands are deft, slitting open brown skines and pressing the creamy white insides of the tubers upward. Butter is shaved from a brick held cool in a pottery container onto each tuber and a sprinkle of golden-yellow cheese added on top of that from another compartment in the same container. Setting down the plates, he reaches for the tongs again to flip the fish over again, setting each at an angle to how they were placed before. "Would you have been happy that way? Consumed?" Paddy asks mildly, eyes ilfting up to her face, though his brows lift a little. "Isn't any place just as much a temporary thing? It's only as long as you're alive and able, hold, craft or weyr," he notes philosophically. A moment later, the fish are flipped one last time, perfect grill-marks on both sides and put onto the plates alongide the tubers. "Here, this isn't my fanciest cooking, but it should taste really good anyway." One plate offered up to the goldrider. "And ... yes. Half of weyrlinghood is figuring that out. Who you are and how you fit with your dragon, who you are together, who you are alone." Jekzith's paws fold atop each other, but there's something about his posture even as he 'sits' that speaks of alertnes. << I'm interested in what the world feels like to you. That and well ... I'm used to sharing a lot of things with P'draig. And with other dragons. Sometimes he wants me to share things with another person for him. >> He pushes up a bit, scoots closer, re-settles, nose extending to meet Elaruth's.
"Yes. It meant everything to me. It was what I was meant to do," Hattie insists, ceasing her pacing to observe the goings-on. "If a Hold is your blood's, then it's /yours/. You can do what you wish with it. You can't simply do what you please with a Weyr. You /shouldn't/, rather. Arguably, you shouldn't with a Hold either, but it's /yours/ and you'd have far more freedom to. You wouldn't have to put up with things you might otherwise." She breathes out sharply and abandons her rant in favour of food, calming enough to say, "Thank you," as fingers curl round the edge of the plate. Elaruth gently rests her nose against Jekzith's, the contact there for any number of reasons: to make it easier for her, just to reassure her and everything in-between. << I am sorry if it hurts, >> she murmurs, silent thereafter as far as words go. The feel of the water filters in first, faint, building to pinpricks over hide that give way to burning as the number of touches increases. Then there's the sound, the roar of the ocean itself and the patter of droplets hitting her frame, the chill of the air swept through as it brushes over and around not only her, but nearby shapes and figures, distracting grains of sand scattered beneath and over paws, felt sharp enough to cut. Another wall falls and everything rushes in at once, assaulting the senses with enough force to make it impossible to filter one or another out without assistance, just the hurt and indecision as to which to try to get rid of left, pressure pressing down. It's enough to have Hattie suddenly pressing a hand to her forehead, her eyes closed as a quiet curse escapes her.
"Plenty of people feel that way about their home Weyrs too you know, Hattie," P'draig says mildly. "I still feel strong loyalty to Fort, though it's shifted over of course, to Ista. If you ever meet my sister, she's the headwoman at the Reaches and well shells, if we had a flag, she'd be waving it," he says with a laugh, then nods, sobering. "No, no one should be doing 'whatever they want' with anything they're responsible for. It's really the duty of a leader, any leader, to do what's best to the best of his or her ability. Cotholders have a habit of voting with their feet if they don't like the current holder. I know it doesn't happen that often, but holds do get voted out of the bloodline from time to time." The plate taken, Paddy's head bobs. "You're welcome. Enjoy." He settles down onto the sand, passes a fork over from the kit to the goldrider and starts to dig into his food. Over on the other side of the island, Jekzith is attentive and still, though energy still thrums through his frame. When the gradual onslaught begins, at first, it's instinct for Jekzith to just filter it, but then he quells that part of his mind and deliberately leaves himself open to it. Paddy's got a bite of fish halfway to his mouth when it surges up along the connection between him and his brown and he narrows his eyes, concentrates for a moment, then looks over his shoulder in the direction where the dragons are. "He asked her to," he tells Hattie quietly and puts his plate down, reaches over to take the goldrider's in case she should drop it and aims to take her hand in his. Meanwhile, Jekzith lets the flood reach something of a fever pitch, eyelids dropping in protest, until he can't take it anymore and he lets he filters slide up into place with the connection between himself and Elaruth still open. << It's like this all the time? >> he asks in wonderment, shaking his head as if he still hears vtols buzzing, but extending what's intended as a soothing touch towards the little queen.
In no state to argue anything, it's questionable whether Hattie hears the explanation as to why her queen has just let everything get a good deal past overloaded, and it's just as well P'draig takes that plate from her, being that her hands shake enough for it to have slipped from her grasp. She curses vehemently again to fill the silence on her part and spends what turns out to be a few minutes putting herself and Elaruth back together and safely under wraps again, her hand kept at an odd angle to curl one finger around one of the brownrider's like a ring or knot without even noticing. Folding her legs beneath her, she sits and mutters, "Well, if that doesn't work to keep me from expressing my opinion, I don't know what does," dryly, one hand fumbling for her plate. "Sorry about that." Once everything is all hidden away and dampened to a manageable level, Elaruth responds, << A great deal of the time. She helps. But she cannot help always or with certain things, >> leaning gently into that touch, grateful.
Silent, P'draig keeps his hand wrapped around Hattie's, reaches across with his other hand to steady her shoulder and waits until she's re-surfaced. "Don't be. He asked," Paddy repeats himself. "Jekzith is ... he's kind of like an eternal toddler in some ways. Curious about everything." Beat. "And he's used to doing a lot of ... bridging. Sharing. From me to him to another dragon to their rider and back, for example, not to mention running interference with young dragons for weyrling groups." The brown's nose nuzzles gently but mentally, it's like cool blue sisal ribbons extending towards Elaruth to soothe away the agitation of the mind as much as the physical. << No she'd probably be too busy a lot of the time, >> Jekzith has to concede, but he's mulling this over. << Did ... anyone teach you to shield and filter? >>
"I don't think she should have done it. She's a queen, she could have hurt him by accident," Hattie says, tightly wound and words clipped. "I think she forgets sometimes. It used to bother me, that she doesn't really act like a queen. Doesn't lord it over anyone. But she wants what she wants, does what she does." She finds the end of the fork on the edge of her plate and curls her fingers more tightly around his for a moment before releasing them. "It'll get cold," she teases, nodding towards his plate. Head dipped a little, Elaruth's eyes close and she gradually relaxes, soothing helping her wind back down. << Yes. But a lot was to separate me from her so she would not feel it all the time, >> the queen explains. << I can filter things out, but never everything, even when she helps. I don't know if I would like to even if I could. It is useful, even if it can hurt. >> Her eyes open again suddenly and she asks, << I did not hurt you? >>
"He's all right, Hattie," P'draig says very seriously and shakes his head. "Queen or no queen, I think he'd be able to manage," the brownrider says with a little quirk to the edge of his mouth and nods, draws back to pick up his plate again, starts to dig in once more. << Well see, it's not so much that you'd need to filter anything out. You can let it all through, but you also just kind of ... slip something in between so that it's not /so much/. >> He considers for a moment or two. << Kind of like those undergarments that some women wear. Paddy thinks about those a fair bit. You can still /see/ everything, but it's sort of made hazier. Veiled. That make sense? >> And Jekzith is so very earnest about his analogy. So earnest. It's P'draig who starts laughing, head ducking over his plate as he catches wind of the tail end of some of the brown's imagery. << Or like looking through slightly cloudy water into a pool. You can still see everything but it's not quite so sharp. >> Jekzith gives Elaruth another fond nuzzle. << No. It was kind of like stubbing your toe. It did /hurt/ when it first hit, but then it goes away fast. >>
Silence from Hattie probably means that the food is pretty damn good, what with her being focused on her plate and not arguing a point for once. That is, until she seems to almost choke and feigns wide-eyed shock to demand, "Is your Jekzith telling my Elaruth about women's underwear?" The weyrwoman waits a few seconds for some more of her queen's images and words to make it through to her and adds, "Thinking of veiling and /women's underwear/ is an example? I hope you don't tell your weyrlings that!" She doesn't make it even halfway to stern and loses it with her fork halfway to her mouth, plate almost empty. Elaruth is able to take everything much more seriously than her rider, and though she doesn't leap upon the undergarments analogy, she likes the pool idea well enough. << But what if you lose something important by dulling it? Hattie thinks details are important. >> She nuzzles back at Jekzith gently, smoothing carefully. << Good. I'm glad. >>
Still laughing heartily, P'draig can only nod at first, then scrubs at his cheek as the laughs taper off a little. "No, not usually. I try to work with them on things that actually work for them. For some a blanket has meaning, or drawing a curtain, things like that." Jekzith's mental tone is a little dubious: << I don't think P'draig's ever missed a detail when there was underwear like that involved, >> he says quite seriously. << But I guess you could miss something if it got too cloudy. I guess there's kind of a trick, to not missing anything, but not getting overloaded at the same time. >> Little iridescent bubbles float free from his mind, carrying lighter thoughts with them, single sensations, one at a time. << It was interesting to feel it. Really feel it. P'draig thinks it's a good thing for him to understand too. In case we have a weyrling who thinks that way sometime. >>
Hattie eventually gets round to finishing what remains on her plate and sets it down reasonably carefully. "You'd be mad not to go after that knot," she states, stretching her arms above her head again. "And I'm going to pretend you said 'no, never', not 'no, not usually'," she jokes, grinning. Little Elaruth must be very innocent for all her colour and her rider. Or just that good at playing it. << I see. I will see if it works. >> One can only presume she's not talking about underwear. << Perhaps it would be better to try with more familiar things, to be certain what is there and what might have been missed. It could be adjusted that way. >>
Grinning, P'draig bobs his head. "Thanks," for the compliment about the cooking, though his gaze lingers on her, stretching so. "Every now and then there's a guy who'd appreciate that kind of thought process. So you know. Maybe, 'very rarely'. But I don't tend to dismiss things out of hand just because they might be a little salacious. Of course, there's a difference between a nineteen year old weyrling and a fourteen year old to be considered too, but thankfully, I haven't had to train any out and out children to be riders for several turns now." His plate is finished off, hers collected and set aside. Paddy reaches for the goldrider's hand then, give it a playful little tug and leans over to kiss her cheek. "More fun in the shade, or swim?" he proposes with a smile. "I've got a few more hours before I need to head back." Jekzith ponders clouded water, clearing and re-clouding it in slow succession. << It's worth a try and yes! Definitely, a good way to practice. Or it can be like some of the training games when you're doing visuals and other things. I can send you pictures and you send back to me to see if you missed anything. >>
"I hope you save that kind of talk for later in training - I'd hate to think you've been winding up some poor sexually frustrated weyrlings with talk of underwear," Hattie replies with raised eyebrows and another grin. "Though some of them might deserve it, so carry right on," she decides. Dark eyes roam out across to the ocean as she allows her hand to be caught and her head tilts, considering. "I sort of want to say both, but that there ocean is hardly a convenient pool." Which speaks volumes of what she's got up to in bathing pools before. Hopefully only hers. "Then, I might not be thinking adventurously." Elaruth dips her head again and softly touches her muzzle to Jekzith's neck. << Yes, we can do that. It would be fun, besides. >>
P'draig laughs again, shakes his head. "No, I haven't. It's funny, if it had been just a few turns later that I moved to Ista, you'd have known first hand, because I'd have been your Weyrlingmaster." That train of thought though, gets duly interrupted by Hattie's request and there's the mischief back in Paddy's eyes as he pushes to his feet, aims to tug her up with him. "Live adventurously," he challenges with /such/ a grin. "That might not be a pool but ..." and Paddy has the audacity to wink at her as he starts to walk backward towards the ocean. Jekzith is very very pleased, by the tenor of his thoughts, with how this has been worked. << Great! Just nudge me any time you want to try, here, there, anywhere! >>
"That would be all kinds of /wrong/," Hattie answers, managing to look fairly haunted by that thought, especially considering state of undress and the other subject currently running parallel. She finds her feet pretty quick and starts taking steps after him, her echo of, "But...?" laced with not enough innocence to counter that look in her eyes. As it turns out, if he makes it even a few steps into the water before she does something to distract him and twist that grin into something else, it'll have been a good effort. And though she might have mentioned the ocean, that doesn't mean that thoughts of the shade have been written off entirely, as he'll probably find out later almost as soon as there's any sort of pause to make remark or suggestion.
"Maybe," P'draig says rather solemnly, in the face of 'haunted'. Probably not the best time to be mentioning that he's hooked up with a former weyrling not once, but twice before. Shame on him. The questioned 'but' earns Hattie an explanation that's wordless and would probably qualify as salacious in many a person's book, distraction working quite nicely and definitely leading to adventurous living. Ocean water is very buoyant after all. Meanwhile, Jekzith actually runs out of steam for a little while at least and curls up with Elaruth for a while in the sun, to soak up its radiance before it's time to head back to separate duties once more.