Log: Hideaway Hold
IC: It is a summer morning, 11:11 of day 4, month 7, turn 22 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.04.17
A bond forms between Palia and Bailey as they create their own secret escape from the world in sand.
OOC - Ended up with more angst than I'd intended...but dang that little one of P'draig's can make for some touching moments! Thanks to her player for representing her in such a beautifully 3D way!
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
Contents:
Palia
Obvious exits:
The Beach House Plateau The Sandbar Waterfall Pool Jungles Docks
PALIA:
It's a toss-up whether or not the dimpled cheeks, still pudgy-round with 'baby' fat or the big round, solemn gray eyes are the most memorable about this kid. She's definitely a she, given the mane of wild curly, light brown locks that fall well below her shoulders, often tamed with braiding. Given feet most often left bare, tanned limbs showing signs of scrapes and bumps and the 'uniform' of cut off shorts and sleevless shirts or tank tops, it might be easy enough to draw conclusions about tomboy tendencies. Currently, the girl seems to be caught in the middle of a growth spurt that's lending her frame a hint of lankiness and starting to banish the lingering plumpness of a younger child. Her age might loosely be placed somewhere between 7 and 10 based on height and build.
It's late morning and harper lessons have let out a little bit early due to the oppressive humidity that's gathering heavily around the Weyr. One curly-haired kid can therefore be found down at the beach, dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a knitted tank top, surfboard stuck in the sand beside her as Palia considers the rolling ocean spread out about ten feet away. Off in the hazy distance, no smoke puffs from the Beach House chimney indicating the place is closed today. Many Weyr residents have flocked down to the beach with towels, blankets and umbrellas and have brought work along with them as the ocean breeze down by the water makes the heat more bearable.
Bailey is one such person in search of some relief from the oppressive weather, though she’s not one of the blanket bearing, umbrella touting people. Clothed in a simple wrap-around skirt, one likely seen many times before, and a midriff baring halter-neck top, she’s wandering barefoot along the shoreline. She wears the far-away expression of one deep in thought, skirting around other bathers entering and leaving the surf reflexively rather than because she’s actually aware that they’re there.
The flutter of Bailey's skirt in the breeze draws Palia's gaze aware from the ocean and she watches the young woman for a few moments until she's nearly passed the girl by. "Hi," is offered over at that point, while Palia's toes curl into the sand. "Are you going swimming?"
There’s a fair amount of chatter floating around on the air such as the happy cries and laughter of children getting tossed in the waves, the laughter from the old couple seated under a nearby umbrella watching the young people enjoying themselves, that it’s a moment or two before Bailey realizes that she is being addressed. Stopping, eyes blinking back to the here and now, her gaze settles on the little girl and a short smile appears as she shakes her head, “Wasn’t planning to. Looks like you’ve got something in mind though?” gesturing towards the surfboard stuck in the sand next to Palia.
Palia looks up at her board with a grin. There's a bright sunshine painted up at the 'nose' of the board and puffy white clouds on a blue background. "Yeah. I'm trying to figure out if the waves are going to be any fun today," she notes with put-on non-chalance and a semi-grandiose gesture towards the water. "It miiight not be you know, wavey enough." She looks over at Bailey again and pats the board with one hand. "Do you know how?"
Tucking her skirt in around her legs, Bailey settles down in the sand next to Palia, having to look up a little. Swimming’s clearly not on her agenda for the day. The artwork on the board is noted, “Did you do that?” The brunette puts on a thoughtful expression, giving the little girl’s words ponderous attention, she stifles her amusement at the nonchalant posture, “My brothers always thought the waves were at their best, ‘waviness’,” borrowing on the child’s words, “after a storm at sea.” A hand scoops up a pile of sand then fingers spread, allowing the grains to trickle through. Shaking her head, “My brothers wouldn’t let me have a chance,” her nose wrinkling, “do you?” Know how.
"Me and Papa and Javeri did it together," Palia explains the decoration on her board and then she flops down on the sand beside Bailey, lying on her stomach and propping her chin up with her hands. "Papa doesn't like me taking on the really big waves like that. Buuuut Javeri said the same thing. She's /really/ good at surfing," the girl says with open admiration in her tone. "It sucks that she went to Igen. I barely see her anymore." Head bobbing up and down though Palia nudges at the board with one bare toe. "I can teach you if you want? Your brothers sound really silly and fussy. Papa can get that way sometimes." Nose-wrinkle.
Tucking her legs up under her Bailey reaches forward and with both hands scoops a pile of sand up into long mound and then begins to pat at it, shaping it into the beginnings of what looks to be, a wall. On talk of waves, she nods as she works, adding some more sand to her project, “The really big ones are scary, even on a boat.” The brunette turns a sheepish look onto Palia, “I still can’t keep it all straight,” the brownrider’s family, “Who’s Javeri again?” A small frown crinkles her brow as hands add a second wall at a ninety degree angle to the first, “Couldn’t your Papa take you to visit her on his dragon?” A glance to the surfboard when the offer of a lesson is made, a rueful chuckle following, “Those things just get me into trouble.” As to her brothers she leans over toward the curly haired child and offers conspiratorially, “It sucks to be the youngest and the only girl too. Boys think we might fall apart if they’re not there to protect us.” Brothers, what can you do.
Solemn gray eyes drop to Bailey's wall and Palia reaches over with a single finger to trace a line that looks like it could be a road leading up to it. "One of Papa's girlfriends," she explains bluntly about Javeri. "Only not so much anymore, because she left." She shrugs once, nods. "We go sometimes. But he's busy a lot right now, with the restaurant." The girl makes a sympathetic look at Bailey. "That's too bad. It's a lot of fun! I hope I get to catch a really, really big wave sometime and get a loonnng ride in," Palia says with a little sigh on the end, then she ducks her head at Bailey's conspiratorial remarks. "Yeaaah, I think I like being the oldest. Jaivery and Dylan and Dharia have to do what /I/ say when Miara and Papa and Unka Mic aren't around."
Watching as Palia adds a road in, “You want to help me? We can build our very own seahold.” Something wistful in her tone as she begins scraping sand together to fashion representation of a main building. Nodding as the little girl explains about Javeri, “Sounds like you miss her.” More observation than query before handing a snippet of personal information of her own, “Still miss my mother. It’s okay to miss people, it means that we still remember them.” Bailey has a hard time trying to keep her expression neutral and free of the smirk threatening to form over what constitutes fun and what trouble. She latches onto the child’s goal, adding a softly teasing, “You might even catch one that goes aaalll the way to Big Bay and back again.” A chuckle spills out on her little companion’s opinion of being the oldest, “Seems to me, you have all the makings of a good leader. Who knows, maybe even a lady holder or a weyrwoman one day.”
"Sure. Want me to go get some water? Those kids have some buckets," Palia points to another little cluster of kids playing a short distance away. "We could even do dribble towers!" And there's a sudden bright smile from the girl. She sits up, preparatory to going after a bucket when Bailey's question catches her and Palia looks away toward the water. "Yes," Palia confesses, small-voiced. "I guess ... I just hoped it would work out? With them? But it didn't. So." Diffident shrug. And Bailey's mischief is infectious a little gleam sneaking into Palia's eyes. "That ... would be /so/ cool." About the wave. The lady holder bit earns a very definite and emphatic shake of her head. "Nuh uh. I'm going to run the Beach House when Papa retires!"
Glancing over to where Palia points out the other children, “Good idea!” on getting some water, “Do you think they might like to join in?” it would only be polite to offer. Her own smile mirrors that of the little girl’s, “I love making those! Its like each one is a secret until you’re finished and right at the end, you get to see how it decides to turn out.” Compassion has Bailey turning a gentle look onto the child reaching out to touch fingers along her arm in a comforting gesture if she doesn’t pull away, “I’m sorry you miss her. Its hard not having a Mama around sometimes, isn’t it?” Delighted laughter and an approving look lightens the mood, “You’ve got yourself some very good goals going there. You could even find yourself the owner of a restaurant in every weyr and seaport!” Sweeping her hand across the empty air as if to indicate a sign, “I can just see it now, Palia’s Slice Of Heaven.” A crooked grin ending up the daydreaming.
"Let's just build our own," Palia demurs on the group activity, but she frowns at Bailey's remarks about 'Mama'. "No. It's fine. I've got Miara," the girl says with another one of those emphatic shakes of her head. Another name Bailey might have trouble placing. The woman's sweeping vision of her future though dissolves Palia's frown and she giggles, eyes rolling a little. "I just want the Beach House. When Papa's all old and stuff and needs /me/ to take care of him instead. Though I guess ... that would be a lot of marks, right? All those places."
Bailey’s happy to keep it just between them, standing to retrieve a clump of fluffy seaweed a little further down the beach and then returning. Placing it as a ‘tree’ in the forecourt of their seahold-under-construction she notes, “That’s for the big swing for all the children to play on. And for the fort the Papa will be build in the branches.” Someone’s given this quite some thought. Her turn to frown then offering an apologetic, “Another girlfriend?” this to the identity of Miara. Palia’s giggles are infectious and soon have the brunette joining in, “You either go big, or go home,” she states nodding in a solemn show, “lots and lots of marks!”
"No. Miara is my milk-mother," Palia explains, pushing up to her feet. "And she takes care of my brother and sister here at Ista, now. Even though she's from Fort. I guess she's sometimes Unka Mic's girlfriend, because they made Tilara together." She grins down at the tree and digs toes into the sand. "We need some shells. To make hideouts with," Palia decides and starts to scamper off. "Well then /maybe/ I'll think about going big." Confident and she's off to get the bucket. Bare legs go running by towards the water a little while later and it takes a few more minutes for Palia to fill up the bucket and squat down at the surf line to pluck up a little handful of shells. "Here!" she announces when she gets back. "Aren't these pretty? That one is purple and that one has like ... blue teeth."
Not an answer Bailey expected but somewhere she manages to connect the dots and hide the lump in her throat for the little girl’s beginnings in life, with a grin that covers it pretty well, “Do you like her?” Tilara. Pale eyes follow Palia, watching her actions with through a softly indulgent smile that has the elder couple under the umbrella nearby, commenting, “Is she yours? She’s a cute little thing.” Blink! Shaking her head and trying for humour, “No, just borrowing her for the day.” And then the child is back and showing off her finds to which the brunette pays close attention, plucking up a sage colored shell in her fingers and turning it over, “These are beautiful,” then the purple one, “almost too good for hideouts. They’d make a pretty necklace though.” Holding the two shells against her throat as she models the imaginary item for Palia’s approval.
"Tilly's nice, but she doesn't know how to surf and she's too little to climb trees with me," is Palia's assessment of her foster-sister. "We can play tea parties and dolls though. She's good at that. Dharia's not big enough yet. Jaivery and Dylan like to smash our block forts which isn't too much fun. I don't like it when they do that." Another nose-wrinkle and then Palia is squatting down to pour some water into a little hollow, lets it sink in to make damp sand and starts putting handfuls of the stuff into the bucket to mix up dribble-stuff. Up come those gray eyes again, fixing on Bailey's modeling. "You're really pretty," the girl says candidly. "And you're fun. I bet that's why Papa likes you. And it'd be easy peasy to make a necklace out of those I've even got string."
With a low chuckle as she listens to Palia’s commentary on her various siblings, “They’re really lucky to have a big sister like you to look after them and show them how to do things properly. I bet it’s a real help to your Papa too.” The seashells are set aside and Bailey dips her hands into the bucket too letting the watery sand mix dribble through her fingers on top of a mound of sand meant to indicate a boathouse. Her hands still, head tipping to one side as she meets the little girls eyes and then quickly drops them away, murmuring a ‘Thank You’ for the compliment and frowning a little when the brownrider is brought up. Exhaling a slow breath she puts a serious look over to his daughter, “Listen Palia, I’m not so sure I’ll be coming around as much. I…” how to put it, “I’ve done some things and I don’t think your Papa’s going to be too pleased with me. Its probably better if I stay away.” Candid but with the glimmer of hope that she won’t be judged too harshly. As to the shell necklace a small smile appears, “You’d make it for me?” nodding and putting all her attention onto what her hands are doing as she states quietly, “I’d like that.”
"Sure," another one of Palia's diffident shrugs follows. "Someone has to help him. Or he might forget to put his pants on," the girl remarks with completely innocent humor. She's poking holes in the sand with one finger while Bailey speaks and her brow wrinkles faintly. "What did you do?" she asks bluntly. "It's pretty hard to get Papa mad." She puts a stick upright in the sand, clusters some sand around its base and nods. "I can make it. Papa'll probably help though if I can't get the holes through the shells."
Teeth show in the wide grin Palia’s offhand comment gets, “Then it’s just as well he as you to help him or he might out with his shirt on backwards to.” The task of smoothing a ‘courtyard’ in front of the main residence takes up Bailey’s attention. Not looking up at the little girl, she can’t, the ‘courtyard’ you see, “It doesn’t matter,” what she’s done, “The point is, I’ve made some people very angry and I’m not sure yet how they want me to make up for it. I might have to go away.” The upright stick is giving an interested look and the brunette hazards a guess, “A boat?” On the shell necklace her mouth curves into a little smile, “That would be nice.” Though she doesn’t seem too happy about the brownrider’s involvement in the task.
"No, it's another tree. But I need seaweed to make the leaves," Palia explains of her handiwork and brushes sand off of her fingers, only to reach for some dribbly-stuff to start making what looks like a guard tower in one corner of the courtyard. "Have you said you're sorry?" is her simple solution for a situation she doesn't know about or understand. Her gaze lifts again to the woman. "Where will you go if you have to go away?"
Fine brows lift upward, impressed. Leaning over to pluck a few pieces off of the ‘tree’ she’d positioned earlier, “Here, try these.” Dipping a hand back into the bucket Bailey begins dribbling a cobbled path from main building down to the docks of the ‘boathouse’. A soft snort and then a wry chuckle, “Yes, but with some things, sorry just isn’t good enough,” she replies whether or not Palia will understand the concept. Eyes drop away and she dusts her hands together then uncrosses her legs careful not to damage the sandy seahold as if she were preparing to leave then and there. A gaze goes out to sea and then honestly, “I don’t know. Maybe some place nobody knows me.”
Palia lets the rest of the dribble in her hand collect on the tower and she takes the offered bits of weed. Her legs fold beneath her and she settles in to carefully place the leaves on her tree. "Oh," Palia says thoughtfully and lets out a sigh. "I guess you're right about that." And there goes her brow knitting again. "Like Illya." Beat. "My mother." On the subject of apologies. The girl's hands still and she looks over at Bailey, maybe like she's expecting her to just get up and go. "You know, my Papa says that running away never solves any problems. At least, that's what he's said every time I've done it."
Gathering her legs up under her the brunette stands a frown going down onto the little girl, “I thought your mother…” died, but she doesn’t say it. Bailey visibly blanches at the truth spoken by the little girl, swallowing and then turning her face away and out to sea where eyes squeeze shut for a moment. Collecting herself once again, she nods slowly a grim expression in place, “Your Papa’s a very wise man, sweetie, you should listen to him so that you don’t end up like me one day.” Bending a shell that had dropped is picked up, her fingers curling around the item as she straightens, “Maybe I’ll come back if I can figure out to make it all right again, hmm?” That’s not the same as running away is it? Gesturing at their proud creation, “It needs a name.” She’ll stay until a name has been given.
"She didn't want me," Palia explains about her mother and look up a Bailey steadily. "But don't tell Papa that I know. He doesn't think that I get it." Her lips purse as she considers Bailey's answer. "I don't want to run away anymore," is her eventual reply and she reaches into the bucket to get more dribble to build up the tower. "I don't think you should go. You should get help if you have a problem. Papa says that too. I'm supposed to come get him when I need help." She sits back on her heels and eyeballs the sand hold. "Hideaway Hold," she pronounces finally. "Because only you and me know how to get there. So if you're going to go somewhere, you should go there," the kid decides.
Bailey’s expression crumples into an open display of heartsickness for the little girl, fighting the instinct to kneel down and gather the child up in her arms. Instead she hunkers back down, fingers reaching for a stray curl to tuck it back behind an ear if Palia doesn’t pull away, “If you were -my- little girl? I would never, ever leave you! Never!” the vehemence in her tone explained with a softly understanding, “My Mama left too when I was just about your age.” Which may be where the soft spot for the brownrider’s daughter comes from. Frowning a little and gazing back out to sea again, “You know? I think you might just be right about that,” getting help, “but to do that, I have to go away, just for a little bit, okay?” Pale eyes seeking out Palia’s, “But you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. At least not until I’m gone.” Lips press tightly together as excess moisture wells up in her eyes, swallowing before she speaks again lest her voice betray her, and nodding, “If you think of me. Then that’s where I’ll be. Hideaway Hold.” Savoring the sound of their pretend niche hidden away from the harsh realities of the world. The brunette will try reaching out a hand to stroke a soft touch along the child’s cheek saying softly, “I’ve got to now, sweetie. Got some things I need to sort out first,” before she leaves the island. Straightening from her hunkered position she casts a last wistful look over the Hideaway Hold and then turns to head back the way she’d come, in the direction of the docks.
Palia is very still as Bailey tucks her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes widen a little at Bailey's confession and she's the one who winds up offering the young woman a hug. "Okay. Just, don't go away for good? Please? And I promise, I won't say anything." Her brow is all wrinkly again though as she watches Bailey go, chewing on her lip thoughtfully when she turns back to the sandy seahold and adds a touch of sand here and there. The shells are gathered up after a little while and Palia runs down the beach towards her father's restaurant to put them on the porch rail, then heads back to finally pull her board out of the sand and head into the waves.
It’s just as well that Palia can’t see Bailey’s face as she welcomes the embrace and enfolds the little girl in her arms, nuzzling her cheek against the curly little head. Releasing the child and rubbing a hand across her eyes she manages a watery smile and a nod of head, “I promise. I’ll come back, one day.” As she walks, the sandy seahold falling further and further behind, tears that had been allowed to slide down her cheeks once her back was turned are dried by the island breeze starting to spill in from the sea. Inhaling a calming breath, the brunette chances a last glance behind her and it’s the tiny figure in the distance of the brownrider’s daughter hunched over the sand creation, that finally draws a small but determined smile from the woman. She could fix this. She -would- fix this.
RL: 2010.04.17
A bond forms between Palia and Bailey as they create their own secret escape from the world in sand.
OOC - Ended up with more angst than I'd intended...but dang that little one of P'draig's can make for some touching moments! Thanks to her player for representing her in such a beautifully 3D way!
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
Contents:
Palia
Obvious exits:
The Beach House Plateau The Sandbar Waterfall Pool Jungles Docks
PALIA:
It's a toss-up whether or not the dimpled cheeks, still pudgy-round with 'baby' fat or the big round, solemn gray eyes are the most memorable about this kid. She's definitely a she, given the mane of wild curly, light brown locks that fall well below her shoulders, often tamed with braiding. Given feet most often left bare, tanned limbs showing signs of scrapes and bumps and the 'uniform' of cut off shorts and sleevless shirts or tank tops, it might be easy enough to draw conclusions about tomboy tendencies. Currently, the girl seems to be caught in the middle of a growth spurt that's lending her frame a hint of lankiness and starting to banish the lingering plumpness of a younger child. Her age might loosely be placed somewhere between 7 and 10 based on height and build.
It's late morning and harper lessons have let out a little bit early due to the oppressive humidity that's gathering heavily around the Weyr. One curly-haired kid can therefore be found down at the beach, dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a knitted tank top, surfboard stuck in the sand beside her as Palia considers the rolling ocean spread out about ten feet away. Off in the hazy distance, no smoke puffs from the Beach House chimney indicating the place is closed today. Many Weyr residents have flocked down to the beach with towels, blankets and umbrellas and have brought work along with them as the ocean breeze down by the water makes the heat more bearable.
Bailey is one such person in search of some relief from the oppressive weather, though she’s not one of the blanket bearing, umbrella touting people. Clothed in a simple wrap-around skirt, one likely seen many times before, and a midriff baring halter-neck top, she’s wandering barefoot along the shoreline. She wears the far-away expression of one deep in thought, skirting around other bathers entering and leaving the surf reflexively rather than because she’s actually aware that they’re there.
The flutter of Bailey's skirt in the breeze draws Palia's gaze aware from the ocean and she watches the young woman for a few moments until she's nearly passed the girl by. "Hi," is offered over at that point, while Palia's toes curl into the sand. "Are you going swimming?"
There’s a fair amount of chatter floating around on the air such as the happy cries and laughter of children getting tossed in the waves, the laughter from the old couple seated under a nearby umbrella watching the young people enjoying themselves, that it’s a moment or two before Bailey realizes that she is being addressed. Stopping, eyes blinking back to the here and now, her gaze settles on the little girl and a short smile appears as she shakes her head, “Wasn’t planning to. Looks like you’ve got something in mind though?” gesturing towards the surfboard stuck in the sand next to Palia.
Palia looks up at her board with a grin. There's a bright sunshine painted up at the 'nose' of the board and puffy white clouds on a blue background. "Yeah. I'm trying to figure out if the waves are going to be any fun today," she notes with put-on non-chalance and a semi-grandiose gesture towards the water. "It miiight not be you know, wavey enough." She looks over at Bailey again and pats the board with one hand. "Do you know how?"
Tucking her skirt in around her legs, Bailey settles down in the sand next to Palia, having to look up a little. Swimming’s clearly not on her agenda for the day. The artwork on the board is noted, “Did you do that?” The brunette puts on a thoughtful expression, giving the little girl’s words ponderous attention, she stifles her amusement at the nonchalant posture, “My brothers always thought the waves were at their best, ‘waviness’,” borrowing on the child’s words, “after a storm at sea.” A hand scoops up a pile of sand then fingers spread, allowing the grains to trickle through. Shaking her head, “My brothers wouldn’t let me have a chance,” her nose wrinkling, “do you?” Know how.
"Me and Papa and Javeri did it together," Palia explains the decoration on her board and then she flops down on the sand beside Bailey, lying on her stomach and propping her chin up with her hands. "Papa doesn't like me taking on the really big waves like that. Buuuut Javeri said the same thing. She's /really/ good at surfing," the girl says with open admiration in her tone. "It sucks that she went to Igen. I barely see her anymore." Head bobbing up and down though Palia nudges at the board with one bare toe. "I can teach you if you want? Your brothers sound really silly and fussy. Papa can get that way sometimes." Nose-wrinkle.
Tucking her legs up under her Bailey reaches forward and with both hands scoops a pile of sand up into long mound and then begins to pat at it, shaping it into the beginnings of what looks to be, a wall. On talk of waves, she nods as she works, adding some more sand to her project, “The really big ones are scary, even on a boat.” The brunette turns a sheepish look onto Palia, “I still can’t keep it all straight,” the brownrider’s family, “Who’s Javeri again?” A small frown crinkles her brow as hands add a second wall at a ninety degree angle to the first, “Couldn’t your Papa take you to visit her on his dragon?” A glance to the surfboard when the offer of a lesson is made, a rueful chuckle following, “Those things just get me into trouble.” As to her brothers she leans over toward the curly haired child and offers conspiratorially, “It sucks to be the youngest and the only girl too. Boys think we might fall apart if they’re not there to protect us.” Brothers, what can you do.
Solemn gray eyes drop to Bailey's wall and Palia reaches over with a single finger to trace a line that looks like it could be a road leading up to it. "One of Papa's girlfriends," she explains bluntly about Javeri. "Only not so much anymore, because she left." She shrugs once, nods. "We go sometimes. But he's busy a lot right now, with the restaurant." The girl makes a sympathetic look at Bailey. "That's too bad. It's a lot of fun! I hope I get to catch a really, really big wave sometime and get a loonnng ride in," Palia says with a little sigh on the end, then she ducks her head at Bailey's conspiratorial remarks. "Yeaaah, I think I like being the oldest. Jaivery and Dylan and Dharia have to do what /I/ say when Miara and Papa and Unka Mic aren't around."
Watching as Palia adds a road in, “You want to help me? We can build our very own seahold.” Something wistful in her tone as she begins scraping sand together to fashion representation of a main building. Nodding as the little girl explains about Javeri, “Sounds like you miss her.” More observation than query before handing a snippet of personal information of her own, “Still miss my mother. It’s okay to miss people, it means that we still remember them.” Bailey has a hard time trying to keep her expression neutral and free of the smirk threatening to form over what constitutes fun and what trouble. She latches onto the child’s goal, adding a softly teasing, “You might even catch one that goes aaalll the way to Big Bay and back again.” A chuckle spills out on her little companion’s opinion of being the oldest, “Seems to me, you have all the makings of a good leader. Who knows, maybe even a lady holder or a weyrwoman one day.”
"Sure. Want me to go get some water? Those kids have some buckets," Palia points to another little cluster of kids playing a short distance away. "We could even do dribble towers!" And there's a sudden bright smile from the girl. She sits up, preparatory to going after a bucket when Bailey's question catches her and Palia looks away toward the water. "Yes," Palia confesses, small-voiced. "I guess ... I just hoped it would work out? With them? But it didn't. So." Diffident shrug. And Bailey's mischief is infectious a little gleam sneaking into Palia's eyes. "That ... would be /so/ cool." About the wave. The lady holder bit earns a very definite and emphatic shake of her head. "Nuh uh. I'm going to run the Beach House when Papa retires!"
Glancing over to where Palia points out the other children, “Good idea!” on getting some water, “Do you think they might like to join in?” it would only be polite to offer. Her own smile mirrors that of the little girl’s, “I love making those! Its like each one is a secret until you’re finished and right at the end, you get to see how it decides to turn out.” Compassion has Bailey turning a gentle look onto the child reaching out to touch fingers along her arm in a comforting gesture if she doesn’t pull away, “I’m sorry you miss her. Its hard not having a Mama around sometimes, isn’t it?” Delighted laughter and an approving look lightens the mood, “You’ve got yourself some very good goals going there. You could even find yourself the owner of a restaurant in every weyr and seaport!” Sweeping her hand across the empty air as if to indicate a sign, “I can just see it now, Palia’s Slice Of Heaven.” A crooked grin ending up the daydreaming.
"Let's just build our own," Palia demurs on the group activity, but she frowns at Bailey's remarks about 'Mama'. "No. It's fine. I've got Miara," the girl says with another one of those emphatic shakes of her head. Another name Bailey might have trouble placing. The woman's sweeping vision of her future though dissolves Palia's frown and she giggles, eyes rolling a little. "I just want the Beach House. When Papa's all old and stuff and needs /me/ to take care of him instead. Though I guess ... that would be a lot of marks, right? All those places."
Bailey’s happy to keep it just between them, standing to retrieve a clump of fluffy seaweed a little further down the beach and then returning. Placing it as a ‘tree’ in the forecourt of their seahold-under-construction she notes, “That’s for the big swing for all the children to play on. And for the fort the Papa will be build in the branches.” Someone’s given this quite some thought. Her turn to frown then offering an apologetic, “Another girlfriend?” this to the identity of Miara. Palia’s giggles are infectious and soon have the brunette joining in, “You either go big, or go home,” she states nodding in a solemn show, “lots and lots of marks!”
"No. Miara is my milk-mother," Palia explains, pushing up to her feet. "And she takes care of my brother and sister here at Ista, now. Even though she's from Fort. I guess she's sometimes Unka Mic's girlfriend, because they made Tilara together." She grins down at the tree and digs toes into the sand. "We need some shells. To make hideouts with," Palia decides and starts to scamper off. "Well then /maybe/ I'll think about going big." Confident and she's off to get the bucket. Bare legs go running by towards the water a little while later and it takes a few more minutes for Palia to fill up the bucket and squat down at the surf line to pluck up a little handful of shells. "Here!" she announces when she gets back. "Aren't these pretty? That one is purple and that one has like ... blue teeth."
Not an answer Bailey expected but somewhere she manages to connect the dots and hide the lump in her throat for the little girl’s beginnings in life, with a grin that covers it pretty well, “Do you like her?” Tilara. Pale eyes follow Palia, watching her actions with through a softly indulgent smile that has the elder couple under the umbrella nearby, commenting, “Is she yours? She’s a cute little thing.” Blink! Shaking her head and trying for humour, “No, just borrowing her for the day.” And then the child is back and showing off her finds to which the brunette pays close attention, plucking up a sage colored shell in her fingers and turning it over, “These are beautiful,” then the purple one, “almost too good for hideouts. They’d make a pretty necklace though.” Holding the two shells against her throat as she models the imaginary item for Palia’s approval.
"Tilly's nice, but she doesn't know how to surf and she's too little to climb trees with me," is Palia's assessment of her foster-sister. "We can play tea parties and dolls though. She's good at that. Dharia's not big enough yet. Jaivery and Dylan like to smash our block forts which isn't too much fun. I don't like it when they do that." Another nose-wrinkle and then Palia is squatting down to pour some water into a little hollow, lets it sink in to make damp sand and starts putting handfuls of the stuff into the bucket to mix up dribble-stuff. Up come those gray eyes again, fixing on Bailey's modeling. "You're really pretty," the girl says candidly. "And you're fun. I bet that's why Papa likes you. And it'd be easy peasy to make a necklace out of those I've even got string."
With a low chuckle as she listens to Palia’s commentary on her various siblings, “They’re really lucky to have a big sister like you to look after them and show them how to do things properly. I bet it’s a real help to your Papa too.” The seashells are set aside and Bailey dips her hands into the bucket too letting the watery sand mix dribble through her fingers on top of a mound of sand meant to indicate a boathouse. Her hands still, head tipping to one side as she meets the little girls eyes and then quickly drops them away, murmuring a ‘Thank You’ for the compliment and frowning a little when the brownrider is brought up. Exhaling a slow breath she puts a serious look over to his daughter, “Listen Palia, I’m not so sure I’ll be coming around as much. I…” how to put it, “I’ve done some things and I don’t think your Papa’s going to be too pleased with me. Its probably better if I stay away.” Candid but with the glimmer of hope that she won’t be judged too harshly. As to the shell necklace a small smile appears, “You’d make it for me?” nodding and putting all her attention onto what her hands are doing as she states quietly, “I’d like that.”
"Sure," another one of Palia's diffident shrugs follows. "Someone has to help him. Or he might forget to put his pants on," the girl remarks with completely innocent humor. She's poking holes in the sand with one finger while Bailey speaks and her brow wrinkles faintly. "What did you do?" she asks bluntly. "It's pretty hard to get Papa mad." She puts a stick upright in the sand, clusters some sand around its base and nods. "I can make it. Papa'll probably help though if I can't get the holes through the shells."
Teeth show in the wide grin Palia’s offhand comment gets, “Then it’s just as well he as you to help him or he might out with his shirt on backwards to.” The task of smoothing a ‘courtyard’ in front of the main residence takes up Bailey’s attention. Not looking up at the little girl, she can’t, the ‘courtyard’ you see, “It doesn’t matter,” what she’s done, “The point is, I’ve made some people very angry and I’m not sure yet how they want me to make up for it. I might have to go away.” The upright stick is giving an interested look and the brunette hazards a guess, “A boat?” On the shell necklace her mouth curves into a little smile, “That would be nice.” Though she doesn’t seem too happy about the brownrider’s involvement in the task.
"No, it's another tree. But I need seaweed to make the leaves," Palia explains of her handiwork and brushes sand off of her fingers, only to reach for some dribbly-stuff to start making what looks like a guard tower in one corner of the courtyard. "Have you said you're sorry?" is her simple solution for a situation she doesn't know about or understand. Her gaze lifts again to the woman. "Where will you go if you have to go away?"
Fine brows lift upward, impressed. Leaning over to pluck a few pieces off of the ‘tree’ she’d positioned earlier, “Here, try these.” Dipping a hand back into the bucket Bailey begins dribbling a cobbled path from main building down to the docks of the ‘boathouse’. A soft snort and then a wry chuckle, “Yes, but with some things, sorry just isn’t good enough,” she replies whether or not Palia will understand the concept. Eyes drop away and she dusts her hands together then uncrosses her legs careful not to damage the sandy seahold as if she were preparing to leave then and there. A gaze goes out to sea and then honestly, “I don’t know. Maybe some place nobody knows me.”
Palia lets the rest of the dribble in her hand collect on the tower and she takes the offered bits of weed. Her legs fold beneath her and she settles in to carefully place the leaves on her tree. "Oh," Palia says thoughtfully and lets out a sigh. "I guess you're right about that." And there goes her brow knitting again. "Like Illya." Beat. "My mother." On the subject of apologies. The girl's hands still and she looks over at Bailey, maybe like she's expecting her to just get up and go. "You know, my Papa says that running away never solves any problems. At least, that's what he's said every time I've done it."
Gathering her legs up under her the brunette stands a frown going down onto the little girl, “I thought your mother…” died, but she doesn’t say it. Bailey visibly blanches at the truth spoken by the little girl, swallowing and then turning her face away and out to sea where eyes squeeze shut for a moment. Collecting herself once again, she nods slowly a grim expression in place, “Your Papa’s a very wise man, sweetie, you should listen to him so that you don’t end up like me one day.” Bending a shell that had dropped is picked up, her fingers curling around the item as she straightens, “Maybe I’ll come back if I can figure out to make it all right again, hmm?” That’s not the same as running away is it? Gesturing at their proud creation, “It needs a name.” She’ll stay until a name has been given.
"She didn't want me," Palia explains about her mother and look up a Bailey steadily. "But don't tell Papa that I know. He doesn't think that I get it." Her lips purse as she considers Bailey's answer. "I don't want to run away anymore," is her eventual reply and she reaches into the bucket to get more dribble to build up the tower. "I don't think you should go. You should get help if you have a problem. Papa says that too. I'm supposed to come get him when I need help." She sits back on her heels and eyeballs the sand hold. "Hideaway Hold," she pronounces finally. "Because only you and me know how to get there. So if you're going to go somewhere, you should go there," the kid decides.
Bailey’s expression crumples into an open display of heartsickness for the little girl, fighting the instinct to kneel down and gather the child up in her arms. Instead she hunkers back down, fingers reaching for a stray curl to tuck it back behind an ear if Palia doesn’t pull away, “If you were -my- little girl? I would never, ever leave you! Never!” the vehemence in her tone explained with a softly understanding, “My Mama left too when I was just about your age.” Which may be where the soft spot for the brownrider’s daughter comes from. Frowning a little and gazing back out to sea again, “You know? I think you might just be right about that,” getting help, “but to do that, I have to go away, just for a little bit, okay?” Pale eyes seeking out Palia’s, “But you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. At least not until I’m gone.” Lips press tightly together as excess moisture wells up in her eyes, swallowing before she speaks again lest her voice betray her, and nodding, “If you think of me. Then that’s where I’ll be. Hideaway Hold.” Savoring the sound of their pretend niche hidden away from the harsh realities of the world. The brunette will try reaching out a hand to stroke a soft touch along the child’s cheek saying softly, “I’ve got to now, sweetie. Got some things I need to sort out first,” before she leaves the island. Straightening from her hunkered position she casts a last wistful look over the Hideaway Hold and then turns to head back the way she’d come, in the direction of the docks.
Palia is very still as Bailey tucks her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes widen a little at Bailey's confession and she's the one who winds up offering the young woman a hug. "Okay. Just, don't go away for good? Please? And I promise, I won't say anything." Her brow is all wrinkly again though as she watches Bailey go, chewing on her lip thoughtfully when she turns back to the sandy seahold and adds a touch of sand here and there. The shells are gathered up after a little while and Palia runs down the beach towards her father's restaurant to put them on the porch rail, then heads back to finally pull her board out of the sand and head into the waves.
It’s just as well that Palia can’t see Bailey’s face as she welcomes the embrace and enfolds the little girl in her arms, nuzzling her cheek against the curly little head. Releasing the child and rubbing a hand across her eyes she manages a watery smile and a nod of head, “I promise. I’ll come back, one day.” As she walks, the sandy seahold falling further and further behind, tears that had been allowed to slide down her cheeks once her back was turned are dried by the island breeze starting to spill in from the sea. Inhaling a calming breath, the brunette chances a last glance behind her and it’s the tiny figure in the distance of the brownrider’s daughter hunched over the sand creation, that finally draws a small but determined smile from the woman. She could fix this. She -would- fix this.