Log: Beachcombing
Who: Nenita, P'draig
When: day 25, month 6, turn 23 of the 10th interval
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy comes across Nenita getting in a little downtime and some things come to the surface, though plenty more stay buried.
Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr(#733RJ)
Surrounded by dense jungle is an empty beach that provides just enough space for two or three dragons to land. Velvety black sands are swept relentlessly by waves, stark white foam sliding seaward after the receding waters. Ista's main beach lies somewhere to the north, but it's impossible to see from such a secluded cranny on the coastline. The jutting fingers of the Weyr are still visible beyond the dense jungle canopy, but there is the illusion that here and now there is no one else on all of Pern.
It's still daytime, because I said so. And even Weyrwomen are allowed to have a day off. Nenita is doing just that right now, she's laying out on a blanket on this secret stretch of beach. Bikini on, sarong discarded some feet away. She's not a supermodel, but she's not the 'omg I'm fat' that she often complains of being. There is zero work related stuff laying around, no clipboard, no papers. Not even a freaking pencil. Meanwhile, Safriath is big and beautiful out in the shallow water, getting the best of the sun /and/ the cool, lapping ocean.
Generally speaking, one wouldn't expect someone to get here on foot, but shortly there's the sound of splashing in the shallows and around the curve of the beach where the trees thin a little as the lean out over black sand and water Paddy appears. Shorts-clad, he's holding a pair of sandals in one hand and his shirt is tucked into the waistband of his shorts, flapping behind him like a white banner. Truce flag? He doesn't notice at first that the beach is occupied, mindful of his footing in the rush of tide and shifting sand. It's as he walks up along the surfline toward more solid sand that the glint of sun on golden hide catches his attention and he looks up, stops and his gaze traces a line from Safriath to the beach and Nenita in her bikini. The brownrider just stands there for a moment without saying a word, eyes fixed on the Weyrwoman and he looks over his shoulder like he might be contemplating turning back, but wherever Jekzith is, it's not here right now, so P'draig continues onward, feet padding on dark sand toward Nenita.
Since people generally sunbathe with their eyes closed or reading a book or something, it's probably not a surprise that she doesn't notice P'draig right away. She does have her lids lowered and it will be some time before she notices that he's there, not until he's practically on top of her. When the padding of feet becomes a sound that she can't ignore, she opens her eyes and blinks up at the sun. Sitting up and blocking the glare with a hand to her forehead, she sees P'draig's approach finally. "Ah, hey there. Are you lost?" She asks, sounding friendly enough as she watches him. Just for a few seconds though, then she's on her back again.
"Can anyone ever really be lost out on the beach when a dragonrider?" P'draig answers with a slight quirk in his grin as he looks down at Nenita. "Less philosophical answer, no. I was a couple of beaches over and decided to walk for a bit, do a little beachcombing," Paddy explains, sandals still swinging from that one hand. "Looks like I've found quite the treasure too," he adds, "though if you're looking to get away from it all," which it really looks like she is, "I'll keep on going." Again the corners of his mouth pull a little, just the hint of a smile.
Right, she's out here half naked. That comment of his seems to remind her of that and she rolls over, reaching for the sarong that's /just/ over there. She moves around, wrapping it around her neck and shooting a quick glance at P'draig. "If I was truly trying to get away from it all, I wouldn't still be here at the weyr. Would I? So no, if you want to stick around then you're more than welcome to." She shifts again, tucking her legs under her as she reaches for a canteen of water that's nearby.
She covers up and Paddy looks away for a moment, toward the water and Safriath in the shallows, bright in the sun. "I meant work, more than the Weyr itself," the brownrider remarks mildly and turns his head back Nenny's way, considers for a moment then folds right down onto the sand, sandals set down to one side. "It's a nice spot," he remarks after a moment, breeze ruffling the tops of the waves as they curl in to shore. "Ista's got so many neat hideaway corners like this," Paddy adds, gaze still on the water.
"Oh, I didn't recognize the difference. My apologies." She unscrews the cap from the canteen and tosses back some of the water inside, it's offered out to P'draig. "Yep, it is and yep, it does." Then she just stares out at the water by Safriath, shifting slightly on top of her towel.
"I suppose they are kind of one and the same for you," P'draig says slowly, though he does reach over to accept the canteen, tilts it up and takes a drink, careful not to backwash, then hands it back after capping it. He's silent for a while, looking out at the water still, arms balanced atop slightly drawn up knees, bare feet curled a little in the black sand. Grains of the stuff coat both of them, clinging where his feet were wet from wading. Finally he offers over quietly: "I'm sorry that I've hurt you."
With the canteen back in her possession, Nenita puts it back down into the sand, careful to make it stand upright. There isn't a response to the quietly offered apology, she simply stares off at the water for awhile. It's a bit of a stretch, but eventually she just shrugs her shoulders. One hand comes up, palm to the sky. "What are you going to do? Base your life on my wants and expectations? Not realistic. You need to do what makes you happy, helps you sleep at night. Not my place. So don't worry about it, P'draig."
"Actually," P'draig says slowly, gaze leaving the water to find her profile, "I'd like to know what those wants and expectations are," the brownrider continues seriously. "Because I feel like I haven't really known for a long time now, what they are. I guess maybe I've been making some bad assumptions about what 'just friends' means and I should've asked you a while back, what your take on that really is, make sure it lines up with what I think." His gaze slips away again after a moment, finds a spot on the sand between his feet and he makes a quiet sound. "I can't help worrying about you. Or wanting to make sure things are okay between us. It's all a part of caring about you the way I do. I can control my reactions, my actions, but not the feelings themselves."
"Finding out that you were sleeping with one of my friends, sleeping with her enough that you could be the father of her baby. That's, that's one of those things that I would have liked to have known was coming. If you can consider that an expectation." She messes with her hair and gives her head a good shake. "I don't want you to feel like you're doing anything wrong, I just... Things are complicated. We're 'just friends' because there's always going to be T'mic. And I wouldn't dare take something like that from you or ask it. So I stepped away a long time ago, turns ago. I thought it would be fine, I would be fine. But I guess now and again, things just get you."
"For what it's worth ... I can count the number of times I've slept with Hattie on one hand," P'draig says slowly and looks over at Nenita again. "It's just that sometimes it only takes once, one slip," the brownrider continues and falls silent again. "I didn't know she was pregnant until just before turnover. I hadn't seen her for four months. She didn't mention it. We fought about that." Breath out. "It's not an excuse, but ... " he trails off, shakes his head. If there's more to add there, he's not going into it right now. But what she says about T'mic startles him visibly and P'draig does an admirable impression of a fish. When he recovers, the brownrider's mouth works and one hand lifts to push back hair that he's been letting go long lately. "Yeah," he says after a moment, voice a little thick. "They do. Get to a person."
Nenita has been looking out at the water most of this time, not out at P'draig except for a time or two. There's yet another shrug of her shoulders, her voice collected as this conversation drags on. It doesn't seem like she's enjoying getting any of this off of her chest, exactly. Thankfully, she misses him looking like a fish. Good for him! "So in reality, there's nothing you can really do. Just live your life, because you're under no obligation to sit around and try to make sure I feel happy. That's a job that's best left to me, I'll figure it out. Though I appreciate your concern."
Silence on P'draig's side of things again as he works through all of that. "I ... didn't realize it was because of T'mic," he finally says quietly, gaze fixed on interlaced fingers. "I always thought, after you finished weyrlinghood --" he breaks off there, swallows down the rest of what he was going to say and subsitutes: "You're right, though. There's -- not a whole lot I can do if it's Mic that makes the boundary," Paddy says quietly. "And it's not a matter of obligation, Nenny. I want you to be happy. If I could I --" he breaks off and shakes his head, presses his lips together on more words before he digs an even deeper hole.
"I didn't want to tell you that it was because of T'mic." Nenita answers quietly, still with her gaze on the water. It shifts only a little bit, to focus more on Safriath than the ocean. Her eyes glaze slightly while she continues to talk. "There were other things too. But that's the biggest one, the one that comes back. I'd never ask you to choose, I understand what he means to you. You shouldn't worry about me, I'm all grown up. And for the most part, it's fine. It really is. Just not so much when you show up with surprise babies. Speaking of which, I'd appreciate if you could not impregnate any other goldriders at any other weyrs. We have a reputation." There's a hesitant smile there, trying to be light.
It takes another little while for that all to process and finally, Paddy reaches over slowly meaning to take Nenita's hand in his. He skips over the first part to say quietly: "I'm ... I don't think I'm going to have any more kids at all." There's a slight heaviness in those words, but she'd probably understand the motivation behind this particular sentiment, given givens, though he does smile for the attempted lightness. "But I'll do my best to try to keep Ista's reputation untarnished, going forward" Paddy promises, rallying a little though his other hand lifts toward her cheek, fingertips gentle. "And I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I'll always be here for you, whatever you need from me. Whatever you can live with. Even if it's 'Paddy, leave me the hell alone.'" The corner of his mouth quirks up a little with that last and his eyes search her face.
Given that he already has quite a few children and Nenita is still living in that 'maybe I won't have any!' sort of mindset. She probably thinks it's a good idea, but she doesn't quite come out and say that. Instead she nods her head, giving his fingers a squeeze when they arrive. When his hand brushes against her face, she finally turns then to look at him. Her eyes drop down and then raise again, finding his face. That glazed look is still there, until she blinks and then it goes away. Clarity returns to her face and she gives him a brief, quick little smile. "Paddy, you're ruining my time to get tan." It's a joke, see. They're still in there somewhere. "Thank you."
When she turns toward him, his gaze meets hers and his hand curls along her cheek for as long as she's focused on him. What she ultimately says earns a quiet laugh and the brownrider leans forward, presses a kiss to the middle of her forehead. "From what I could see," he jokes in turn, "your tan is perfect." Both of his hands lift to her hair, smooth it back as he leans back and looks down at her again with a little smile that slowly grows, then he exhales and draws away, turns to pick up his sandals. "I'd better let you get back to it. It's not every day you get to lie around in the sun doing nothing." Paddy rises then, careful not to scatter sand onto her towel, turns to walk away down the beach, in the direction away from the Weyr rather than toward it, where he came from in the first place.
When he leans forward, there's just the tiniest of intakes. Her breath sucks in very quickly and she holds it there until he pulls away again. Then she'll discreetly release that air and duck her head to stare at the towel briefly. "Enjoy the rest your day combing the beach, Paddy." It sounds like she means it and that smile is back on on her face, just a little more quirky than usual. She'll lift her hand to wave to him, watching as he disappears along the beach to wherever it is he's going.
Pausing with his head turned over his shoulder, P'draig smiles again. "I don't think I'll find anything better on any other beach than I already have on this one." His gaze holds hers for another moment then his hand lifts, just a curl of fingers to return that wave, before he turns away again, walks on until the sunlight bouncing off the waves swallows him up and all that's left behind are footprints in the sand again.
When: day 25, month 6, turn 23 of the 10th interval
Where: Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy comes across Nenita getting in a little downtime and some things come to the surface, though plenty more stay buried.
Secluded Beach, Ista Weyr(#733RJ)
Surrounded by dense jungle is an empty beach that provides just enough space for two or three dragons to land. Velvety black sands are swept relentlessly by waves, stark white foam sliding seaward after the receding waters. Ista's main beach lies somewhere to the north, but it's impossible to see from such a secluded cranny on the coastline. The jutting fingers of the Weyr are still visible beyond the dense jungle canopy, but there is the illusion that here and now there is no one else on all of Pern.
It's still daytime, because I said so. And even Weyrwomen are allowed to have a day off. Nenita is doing just that right now, she's laying out on a blanket on this secret stretch of beach. Bikini on, sarong discarded some feet away. She's not a supermodel, but she's not the 'omg I'm fat' that she often complains of being. There is zero work related stuff laying around, no clipboard, no papers. Not even a freaking pencil. Meanwhile, Safriath is big and beautiful out in the shallow water, getting the best of the sun /and/ the cool, lapping ocean.
Generally speaking, one wouldn't expect someone to get here on foot, but shortly there's the sound of splashing in the shallows and around the curve of the beach where the trees thin a little as the lean out over black sand and water Paddy appears. Shorts-clad, he's holding a pair of sandals in one hand and his shirt is tucked into the waistband of his shorts, flapping behind him like a white banner. Truce flag? He doesn't notice at first that the beach is occupied, mindful of his footing in the rush of tide and shifting sand. It's as he walks up along the surfline toward more solid sand that the glint of sun on golden hide catches his attention and he looks up, stops and his gaze traces a line from Safriath to the beach and Nenita in her bikini. The brownrider just stands there for a moment without saying a word, eyes fixed on the Weyrwoman and he looks over his shoulder like he might be contemplating turning back, but wherever Jekzith is, it's not here right now, so P'draig continues onward, feet padding on dark sand toward Nenita.
Since people generally sunbathe with their eyes closed or reading a book or something, it's probably not a surprise that she doesn't notice P'draig right away. She does have her lids lowered and it will be some time before she notices that he's there, not until he's practically on top of her. When the padding of feet becomes a sound that she can't ignore, she opens her eyes and blinks up at the sun. Sitting up and blocking the glare with a hand to her forehead, she sees P'draig's approach finally. "Ah, hey there. Are you lost?" She asks, sounding friendly enough as she watches him. Just for a few seconds though, then she's on her back again.
"Can anyone ever really be lost out on the beach when a dragonrider?" P'draig answers with a slight quirk in his grin as he looks down at Nenita. "Less philosophical answer, no. I was a couple of beaches over and decided to walk for a bit, do a little beachcombing," Paddy explains, sandals still swinging from that one hand. "Looks like I've found quite the treasure too," he adds, "though if you're looking to get away from it all," which it really looks like she is, "I'll keep on going." Again the corners of his mouth pull a little, just the hint of a smile.
Right, she's out here half naked. That comment of his seems to remind her of that and she rolls over, reaching for the sarong that's /just/ over there. She moves around, wrapping it around her neck and shooting a quick glance at P'draig. "If I was truly trying to get away from it all, I wouldn't still be here at the weyr. Would I? So no, if you want to stick around then you're more than welcome to." She shifts again, tucking her legs under her as she reaches for a canteen of water that's nearby.
She covers up and Paddy looks away for a moment, toward the water and Safriath in the shallows, bright in the sun. "I meant work, more than the Weyr itself," the brownrider remarks mildly and turns his head back Nenny's way, considers for a moment then folds right down onto the sand, sandals set down to one side. "It's a nice spot," he remarks after a moment, breeze ruffling the tops of the waves as they curl in to shore. "Ista's got so many neat hideaway corners like this," Paddy adds, gaze still on the water.
"Oh, I didn't recognize the difference. My apologies." She unscrews the cap from the canteen and tosses back some of the water inside, it's offered out to P'draig. "Yep, it is and yep, it does." Then she just stares out at the water by Safriath, shifting slightly on top of her towel.
"I suppose they are kind of one and the same for you," P'draig says slowly, though he does reach over to accept the canteen, tilts it up and takes a drink, careful not to backwash, then hands it back after capping it. He's silent for a while, looking out at the water still, arms balanced atop slightly drawn up knees, bare feet curled a little in the black sand. Grains of the stuff coat both of them, clinging where his feet were wet from wading. Finally he offers over quietly: "I'm sorry that I've hurt you."
With the canteen back in her possession, Nenita puts it back down into the sand, careful to make it stand upright. There isn't a response to the quietly offered apology, she simply stares off at the water for awhile. It's a bit of a stretch, but eventually she just shrugs her shoulders. One hand comes up, palm to the sky. "What are you going to do? Base your life on my wants and expectations? Not realistic. You need to do what makes you happy, helps you sleep at night. Not my place. So don't worry about it, P'draig."
"Actually," P'draig says slowly, gaze leaving the water to find her profile, "I'd like to know what those wants and expectations are," the brownrider continues seriously. "Because I feel like I haven't really known for a long time now, what they are. I guess maybe I've been making some bad assumptions about what 'just friends' means and I should've asked you a while back, what your take on that really is, make sure it lines up with what I think." His gaze slips away again after a moment, finds a spot on the sand between his feet and he makes a quiet sound. "I can't help worrying about you. Or wanting to make sure things are okay between us. It's all a part of caring about you the way I do. I can control my reactions, my actions, but not the feelings themselves."
"Finding out that you were sleeping with one of my friends, sleeping with her enough that you could be the father of her baby. That's, that's one of those things that I would have liked to have known was coming. If you can consider that an expectation." She messes with her hair and gives her head a good shake. "I don't want you to feel like you're doing anything wrong, I just... Things are complicated. We're 'just friends' because there's always going to be T'mic. And I wouldn't dare take something like that from you or ask it. So I stepped away a long time ago, turns ago. I thought it would be fine, I would be fine. But I guess now and again, things just get you."
"For what it's worth ... I can count the number of times I've slept with Hattie on one hand," P'draig says slowly and looks over at Nenita again. "It's just that sometimes it only takes once, one slip," the brownrider continues and falls silent again. "I didn't know she was pregnant until just before turnover. I hadn't seen her for four months. She didn't mention it. We fought about that." Breath out. "It's not an excuse, but ... " he trails off, shakes his head. If there's more to add there, he's not going into it right now. But what she says about T'mic startles him visibly and P'draig does an admirable impression of a fish. When he recovers, the brownrider's mouth works and one hand lifts to push back hair that he's been letting go long lately. "Yeah," he says after a moment, voice a little thick. "They do. Get to a person."
Nenita has been looking out at the water most of this time, not out at P'draig except for a time or two. There's yet another shrug of her shoulders, her voice collected as this conversation drags on. It doesn't seem like she's enjoying getting any of this off of her chest, exactly. Thankfully, she misses him looking like a fish. Good for him! "So in reality, there's nothing you can really do. Just live your life, because you're under no obligation to sit around and try to make sure I feel happy. That's a job that's best left to me, I'll figure it out. Though I appreciate your concern."
Silence on P'draig's side of things again as he works through all of that. "I ... didn't realize it was because of T'mic," he finally says quietly, gaze fixed on interlaced fingers. "I always thought, after you finished weyrlinghood --" he breaks off there, swallows down the rest of what he was going to say and subsitutes: "You're right, though. There's -- not a whole lot I can do if it's Mic that makes the boundary," Paddy says quietly. "And it's not a matter of obligation, Nenny. I want you to be happy. If I could I --" he breaks off and shakes his head, presses his lips together on more words before he digs an even deeper hole.
"I didn't want to tell you that it was because of T'mic." Nenita answers quietly, still with her gaze on the water. It shifts only a little bit, to focus more on Safriath than the ocean. Her eyes glaze slightly while she continues to talk. "There were other things too. But that's the biggest one, the one that comes back. I'd never ask you to choose, I understand what he means to you. You shouldn't worry about me, I'm all grown up. And for the most part, it's fine. It really is. Just not so much when you show up with surprise babies. Speaking of which, I'd appreciate if you could not impregnate any other goldriders at any other weyrs. We have a reputation." There's a hesitant smile there, trying to be light.
It takes another little while for that all to process and finally, Paddy reaches over slowly meaning to take Nenita's hand in his. He skips over the first part to say quietly: "I'm ... I don't think I'm going to have any more kids at all." There's a slight heaviness in those words, but she'd probably understand the motivation behind this particular sentiment, given givens, though he does smile for the attempted lightness. "But I'll do my best to try to keep Ista's reputation untarnished, going forward" Paddy promises, rallying a little though his other hand lifts toward her cheek, fingertips gentle. "And I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I'll always be here for you, whatever you need from me. Whatever you can live with. Even if it's 'Paddy, leave me the hell alone.'" The corner of his mouth quirks up a little with that last and his eyes search her face.
Given that he already has quite a few children and Nenita is still living in that 'maybe I won't have any!' sort of mindset. She probably thinks it's a good idea, but she doesn't quite come out and say that. Instead she nods her head, giving his fingers a squeeze when they arrive. When his hand brushes against her face, she finally turns then to look at him. Her eyes drop down and then raise again, finding his face. That glazed look is still there, until she blinks and then it goes away. Clarity returns to her face and she gives him a brief, quick little smile. "Paddy, you're ruining my time to get tan." It's a joke, see. They're still in there somewhere. "Thank you."
When she turns toward him, his gaze meets hers and his hand curls along her cheek for as long as she's focused on him. What she ultimately says earns a quiet laugh and the brownrider leans forward, presses a kiss to the middle of her forehead. "From what I could see," he jokes in turn, "your tan is perfect." Both of his hands lift to her hair, smooth it back as he leans back and looks down at her again with a little smile that slowly grows, then he exhales and draws away, turns to pick up his sandals. "I'd better let you get back to it. It's not every day you get to lie around in the sun doing nothing." Paddy rises then, careful not to scatter sand onto her towel, turns to walk away down the beach, in the direction away from the Weyr rather than toward it, where he came from in the first place.
When he leans forward, there's just the tiniest of intakes. Her breath sucks in very quickly and she holds it there until he pulls away again. Then she'll discreetly release that air and duck her head to stare at the towel briefly. "Enjoy the rest your day combing the beach, Paddy." It sounds like she means it and that smile is back on on her face, just a little more quirky than usual. She'll lift her hand to wave to him, watching as he disappears along the beach to wherever it is he's going.
Pausing with his head turned over his shoulder, P'draig smiles again. "I don't think I'll find anything better on any other beach than I already have on this one." His gaze holds hers for another moment then his hand lifts, just a curl of fingers to return that wave, before he turns away again, walks on until the sunlight bouncing off the waves swallows him up and all that's left behind are footprints in the sand again.