LOG: Easier
Date: Day 12, Month 1, Turn 26
Location: Residential Corridors, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Cason and Jaques escape their wives for a while.
Despite the fact that their children are grown adults, Cason and Esdel were two of the first to get moved into more permanent quarters. It's just a single room, and not a big one, but it's private-- and away from the rest of the exiles. Tonight, however, Evie and Esdel are commiserating inside, and rather than be stuck with the pair of them, Cason's quiet suggestion to his remaining son is, "Shall we... go for a walk or something?"
Quieter than usual of late, Jaques lingers on the outside of the family while his wife and his mother mourn. The suggestion to get away from it all is a welcome one, evidenced by the relax of shoulders he didn't know were tense. "Let's, please," he agrees, with a nod as he moves away from the door, further down the corridor. But there he hesitates, and leaves the setting of the pace to his father.
Cason doesn't really seem to have anywhere particular in mind, but he strikes out on a path at random, leading his son away from the room without a backwards glance. He's tense, despite the distantce; the glance he aims at his son is a tight one. Heavily; "It's going to get easier, Jaques. For all of us. It is."
Jaques, in contrast, doesn't look at his father at all. It's especially unusual, what with his habit of looking so intensely; but instead, tonight, he studies the floor, the walls, all the rest of the featureless caverns they pass through. "It must," he agrees, though it doesn't keep the bitterness away.
"Jaques." There's something intent and intense about Cason's tone, now: he's even come to a halt, leaning up against a random wall in the midst of the residential hallways. Someone's door is just opposite them, closed. "You and Evie... there can be more babies. I know that doesn't make it better, but you need to remember that. In a few months, you can try again. Once we're all settled here, everything is going to be fine."
Jaques blows out a breath, pausing a step beyond Cason before he turns back. He doesn't shy away this time, but gives his father a steadier look. "I know," he agrees. He stops there for a moment; he's always been so good at not saying things. Finally, "We thought--I thought--everything was going to be fine Before." Before the dragons, before the Weyr. When it looked like they might make a happy family after all.
Something in Cason's expression droops. He takes a breath before he speaks, breathing it in and letting it out slowly, carefully. "I know," he murmurs, awkward, as though he genuinely doesn't know how to deal with this, after all the other things he's dealt with in his time. It's different, now. "I think it would have been fine. All of it. But things are... different, now." He pauses, considering his son. "What do you want, Jaques?"
Jaques, too, blows out his own heavy breath. "I don't know," he admits. "There's--too much, here."
Quietly, his gaze not leaving his son, "There are a lot of options. Too many, maybe; maybe you're right on that one. But... better than there were." Cason knows his son, probably better than he's ever really wanted to admit. "You could do anything. Be anything."
"No choice, or every choice," says Jaques. "That's--not much of a choice." It makes his mouth twitch into that smirk of his, though it's not a happy expression. "I want... to just move on. Not have everybody staring at me, asking about the islands and us and..." He trails off, lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
Hesitation marks itself around Cason's mouth and eyes; he looks caught between a lot of things, unable to settle on any one thing to say. Not immediately. Finally; "You want to belong somewhere. As yourself. Is that it?"
There's a brief moment of hesitation in Jaques, too, but finally he nods once, mouth pulling into a frown as he studies his father.
Cason hasn't started walking again, and now, with Jaques studying him, he turns his gaze away, staring vaguely at the door on the other side of the corridor. "The Weyrleaders have," pause, "/suggested/ that perhaps some of our young people would like to Stand for their clutch that's coming. It seems like it will be a good way to get... integrated."
For several moments Jaques is silent still. Then, "But that's no guarantee," he points out. And, quieter, "After turnover--."
Cason, it must be said, looks at the ground rather intently at mention of /turnover/. It's a sticking point. "No," he allows, after a moment. "There's no guarantee. But it /could/ be a good opportunity, for some of you. You'd belong, then. You'd have to. You could--" he glances back at his son again, finally. "There has to be something. Whatever it is, I'll support you."
Jaques is quiet himself for a moment, before he nods once. "I know," is all he says in response to the latter. And he straightens, as though preparing to start walking again, before he casts a sideways look at Cason. "What are you going to do?"
Surprised, Cason stops shifting away from the wall - his action clearly following Jaques' lead. "Me?" His brows furrow, and his cheeks are sucked in; it takes him a few seconds to get his head around the question. "Your mother and I... We're useful, for now. To engage with the leaders, here. In time, though..." The question is written into his face: what good is a leader without a community to lead? "I feel too old to learn new skills."
"In time you wouldn't have to be." Leaders without followers aren't leaders at all--that's a good thing, in Jaques' mind, though he tries to keep his voice neutral. "The old skills... they're not completely useless. Maybe not much practiced /here/, but..." He trails off, slides another sideways look. "I don't think Mother wants to stay here."
Rather than answer immediately, Cason takes a long stride forward, avoiding his son's gaze. When he does speak, he's a few paces on, and his voice is quiet. "I know she doesn't," he says, without looking away from the corridor ahead. "She would have us return to the islands, and perhaps for some of us, that's the way forward. The way home. But not for you young people. There's no future there."
Jaques, now, takes to studying his father; he doesn't have to watch the corridor too closely, straight and level as it is. "For anyone," he finally says, simply. And, "Do you think the others," like him, "will try for dragons?"
This time, Cason does turn to consider his son, considering his face with an unreadable expression. He doesn't make answer to the first, but the second, in a low, even tone, is answered with a, "I think so. I think it would be a good opportunity. A way forward. It would be nice for our people to have a... place. To belong somewhere. I would encourage it. I do believe that." Even if there's something he's not saying, not completely.
Jaques looks hard then, his lips pursing as he regards his father. Finally, finding whatever it is he wants to see in that expression, he nods. "All right," he agrees.
"All right?" repeats Cason, clearly seeking clarification. "Does that mean... you intend to try for a dragon, son? Or that you see the usefulness, for your companions?"
Jaques's crooked, smirky smile appears then, and he nods again in agreement. "It means--yes. All of that, I suppose."
Is that relief, lurking, mostly hidden, behind Cason's otherwise neutral expression? It's something in his eyes, somehow. After a moment, his smile appears, too - one that, unconsciously, matches Jaques'. Lightly; "Good. I hope it will make you happy, son. After... everything." It's a lame conclusion; he seems to know it. "You might suggest it to some of your friends. As a possibility." If he's willing to see his own son do it... that's bound to be a useful recruitment tactic.
Jaques hesitates once, then ducks his head, nodding. "All right," he agrees. "I'll let them know." Though that part, admittedly, sounds a little more resigned than excited.
And there it is: Cason-the-leader, replacing Cason-the-father. "Good boy." Never mind that his 'boy' is grown up, married. Also: "Things are going to get better. You'll see."
"Yes, sir," agrees Jaques the (good, only) son. But he doesn't seem to want to linger just then, and instead takes a couple of quicker steps to outpace his father. "I should go--go." However he was going to fill in that sentence, he fails, and instead just shrugs.
It's sad, really. Almost pathetic. Cason squints, as though he genuinely has no idea what he's said that has ruined their little father-son bonding session. But: "Of course. I'll see you later, son."
Location: Residential Corridors, High Reaches Weyr
Synopsis: Cason and Jaques escape their wives for a while.
Despite the fact that their children are grown adults, Cason and Esdel were two of the first to get moved into more permanent quarters. It's just a single room, and not a big one, but it's private-- and away from the rest of the exiles. Tonight, however, Evie and Esdel are commiserating inside, and rather than be stuck with the pair of them, Cason's quiet suggestion to his remaining son is, "Shall we... go for a walk or something?"
Quieter than usual of late, Jaques lingers on the outside of the family while his wife and his mother mourn. The suggestion to get away from it all is a welcome one, evidenced by the relax of shoulders he didn't know were tense. "Let's, please," he agrees, with a nod as he moves away from the door, further down the corridor. But there he hesitates, and leaves the setting of the pace to his father.
Cason doesn't really seem to have anywhere particular in mind, but he strikes out on a path at random, leading his son away from the room without a backwards glance. He's tense, despite the distantce; the glance he aims at his son is a tight one. Heavily; "It's going to get easier, Jaques. For all of us. It is."
Jaques, in contrast, doesn't look at his father at all. It's especially unusual, what with his habit of looking so intensely; but instead, tonight, he studies the floor, the walls, all the rest of the featureless caverns they pass through. "It must," he agrees, though it doesn't keep the bitterness away.
"Jaques." There's something intent and intense about Cason's tone, now: he's even come to a halt, leaning up against a random wall in the midst of the residential hallways. Someone's door is just opposite them, closed. "You and Evie... there can be more babies. I know that doesn't make it better, but you need to remember that. In a few months, you can try again. Once we're all settled here, everything is going to be fine."
Jaques blows out a breath, pausing a step beyond Cason before he turns back. He doesn't shy away this time, but gives his father a steadier look. "I know," he agrees. He stops there for a moment; he's always been so good at not saying things. Finally, "We thought--I thought--everything was going to be fine Before." Before the dragons, before the Weyr. When it looked like they might make a happy family after all.
Something in Cason's expression droops. He takes a breath before he speaks, breathing it in and letting it out slowly, carefully. "I know," he murmurs, awkward, as though he genuinely doesn't know how to deal with this, after all the other things he's dealt with in his time. It's different, now. "I think it would have been fine. All of it. But things are... different, now." He pauses, considering his son. "What do you want, Jaques?"
Jaques, too, blows out his own heavy breath. "I don't know," he admits. "There's--too much, here."
Quietly, his gaze not leaving his son, "There are a lot of options. Too many, maybe; maybe you're right on that one. But... better than there were." Cason knows his son, probably better than he's ever really wanted to admit. "You could do anything. Be anything."
"No choice, or every choice," says Jaques. "That's--not much of a choice." It makes his mouth twitch into that smirk of his, though it's not a happy expression. "I want... to just move on. Not have everybody staring at me, asking about the islands and us and..." He trails off, lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
Hesitation marks itself around Cason's mouth and eyes; he looks caught between a lot of things, unable to settle on any one thing to say. Not immediately. Finally; "You want to belong somewhere. As yourself. Is that it?"
There's a brief moment of hesitation in Jaques, too, but finally he nods once, mouth pulling into a frown as he studies his father.
Cason hasn't started walking again, and now, with Jaques studying him, he turns his gaze away, staring vaguely at the door on the other side of the corridor. "The Weyrleaders have," pause, "/suggested/ that perhaps some of our young people would like to Stand for their clutch that's coming. It seems like it will be a good way to get... integrated."
For several moments Jaques is silent still. Then, "But that's no guarantee," he points out. And, quieter, "After turnover--."
Cason, it must be said, looks at the ground rather intently at mention of /turnover/. It's a sticking point. "No," he allows, after a moment. "There's no guarantee. But it /could/ be a good opportunity, for some of you. You'd belong, then. You'd have to. You could--" he glances back at his son again, finally. "There has to be something. Whatever it is, I'll support you."
Jaques is quiet himself for a moment, before he nods once. "I know," is all he says in response to the latter. And he straightens, as though preparing to start walking again, before he casts a sideways look at Cason. "What are you going to do?"
Surprised, Cason stops shifting away from the wall - his action clearly following Jaques' lead. "Me?" His brows furrow, and his cheeks are sucked in; it takes him a few seconds to get his head around the question. "Your mother and I... We're useful, for now. To engage with the leaders, here. In time, though..." The question is written into his face: what good is a leader without a community to lead? "I feel too old to learn new skills."
"In time you wouldn't have to be." Leaders without followers aren't leaders at all--that's a good thing, in Jaques' mind, though he tries to keep his voice neutral. "The old skills... they're not completely useless. Maybe not much practiced /here/, but..." He trails off, slides another sideways look. "I don't think Mother wants to stay here."
Rather than answer immediately, Cason takes a long stride forward, avoiding his son's gaze. When he does speak, he's a few paces on, and his voice is quiet. "I know she doesn't," he says, without looking away from the corridor ahead. "She would have us return to the islands, and perhaps for some of us, that's the way forward. The way home. But not for you young people. There's no future there."
Jaques, now, takes to studying his father; he doesn't have to watch the corridor too closely, straight and level as it is. "For anyone," he finally says, simply. And, "Do you think the others," like him, "will try for dragons?"
This time, Cason does turn to consider his son, considering his face with an unreadable expression. He doesn't make answer to the first, but the second, in a low, even tone, is answered with a, "I think so. I think it would be a good opportunity. A way forward. It would be nice for our people to have a... place. To belong somewhere. I would encourage it. I do believe that." Even if there's something he's not saying, not completely.
Jaques looks hard then, his lips pursing as he regards his father. Finally, finding whatever it is he wants to see in that expression, he nods. "All right," he agrees.
"All right?" repeats Cason, clearly seeking clarification. "Does that mean... you intend to try for a dragon, son? Or that you see the usefulness, for your companions?"
Jaques's crooked, smirky smile appears then, and he nods again in agreement. "It means--yes. All of that, I suppose."
Is that relief, lurking, mostly hidden, behind Cason's otherwise neutral expression? It's something in his eyes, somehow. After a moment, his smile appears, too - one that, unconsciously, matches Jaques'. Lightly; "Good. I hope it will make you happy, son. After... everything." It's a lame conclusion; he seems to know it. "You might suggest it to some of your friends. As a possibility." If he's willing to see his own son do it... that's bound to be a useful recruitment tactic.
Jaques hesitates once, then ducks his head, nodding. "All right," he agrees. "I'll let them know." Though that part, admittedly, sounds a little more resigned than excited.
And there it is: Cason-the-leader, replacing Cason-the-father. "Good boy." Never mind that his 'boy' is grown up, married. Also: "Things are going to get better. You'll see."
"Yes, sir," agrees Jaques the (good, only) son. But he doesn't seem to want to linger just then, and instead takes a couple of quicker steps to outpace his father. "I should go--go." However he was going to fill in that sentence, he fails, and instead just shrugs.
It's sad, really. Almost pathetic. Cason squints, as though he genuinely has no idea what he's said that has ruined their little father-son bonding session. But: "Of course. I'll see you later, son."