Log: Understanding
Who: L'vae, Milani, Bremuth
When: Evening, 11/11/15
Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
What: The Duchess and The Caterpillar meet on the patio. (Or: L’vae and Milani talk of work, skating plans for the winter, Crom tithes, and the weyrleader. Includes a pinch of Bremuth, added in.)
louvaen titled and summarized so eloquently that I stole that as well as the clean log.
Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
This ledge is a good size, allowing two large dragons on it at the most, however the furniture and decorations do very little to allow dragons to land. The stone has, through time, become smooth with the sting of High Reaches' biting winter winds. Lacking are the telling talon marks of an occupant at any time within the past decade and the ledge has been weeded and cleared of greenery. Situated along the western bowl, this ledge offers a view of the lake in the distance and has a set of wide steps curving along the bowl wall to the ground.
A stone half-arc shelters half of the ledge from the extreme weathers, where a iron-wrought bench and two patio-like tables have been set up. Little niches, carved out of the stone in a rustic fashion hold glow baskets to provide light at night. The very edge has been decorated with wooden boxes of potted flowers that blossom beautifully in the spring and summer.
The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is a nearly full waning gibbous while Timor winks as a waning crescent. There seems to be a light breeze and the fall air feels a bit nippy.
cMilani
Expressive bright blue-green eyes are the remarkable feature of this young woman's face, the color rather intense, like the seas off Ista Island. A small, slightly upturned nose scattered with freckles across the bridge and full lips complete a winsome face that's most often open and frank of expression. It'd be hard to miss her in a crowd too, given her height, just a smidgen under six feet and the long mane of well-kept, wavy, strawberry-blonde hair that falls nearly to her hips, unbound. Slender and moderately curvy, there's a certain lithe gracefulness to her when she moves that belies her sixteen-odd turns.
Wearing a well-tailored blue dress just a few shades darker than her eyes, Milani combines practicality and prettiness, the skirts only three-quarter length, swirly but not so full that they'd trip her up. Cut to flatter but remain modest, the gown suits its wearer rather well, granting her a certain measure of grace and moderate elegance. A pair of silver earrings set with aquamarine, an airy sisal scarf knotted around her neck and dark teal calf-boots complete the ensemble. The knot of a High Reaches Weyr assistant headwoman loops her shoulder
L'vae
Short brown hair is brushed back in a consciously messy tousle from L'vae's squared forehead. The pale man's features are rounded and relatively plain: brows arching gently over eyes of grayed hazel, a broad wedge of a nose, and an oval jaw line. What does stand out is his mouth, expressively mobile and capable of stretching wide into a smile that crinkles about his eyes and creases deep dimples into his cheeks. His roughly six-foot frame appears to be of average build and he looks to be in his early twenties.
A practical sweater of tight-knit heather grey wool sits close on L'vae's torso. Its edges are finished with wide ribbing and wooden toggles hold up the turtleneck collar or allow it to flop down, dependent on the temperature. The bulk of a belt is outlined underneath the hip-length sweater, holding up a pair of olive trousers made of sturdy corduroy. He is shod in a pair of brown leather boots, the well-oiled toes showing signs of wear. On his shoulder is a knot with a thread of brown indicating he is a weyrling at High Reaches.
It is cold enough out that the patio is sparsely occupied, only a few small clusters of folk spilling out from the warmth and clamor of the Snowasis. At one of the tables sits a lone weyrling, his arms crossed along the top. There’s a mug at one elbow, though if there was once steam rising from it, it has since gone cold. His eyes are turned upwards, distantly into that clear and chilly sky. The softest of smiles rests faintly on his lips.
Bremuth > Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
Bremuth > As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occasional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles.
Dragon > Grace in thought and action, motion and mind joining in fluid meditation. Chill winds whisper along smooth hide. Distant constellations stretch above and warmer constellations wait below, light winking out from pockets in the Weyr's walls. Gibbous Belior's pale glow spills across the land beyond the spires, glinting on distant snowy peaks and disappearing into the inky secrets of valleys. (To L'vae from Bremuth)
From inside the Snowasis soft footsteps sound and a moment later, shawl-clad Milani comes into view, blocking the warm light that spills out of the bar for a moment as she passes the threshold and out into the starry night. She casts about for a few moments, then pauses, eyes caught on the familiar profile of the Weyrling. Steam rises up off the surface of the liquid in the mug she carries and with a smile that's visible briefly in the light from inside she crosses over to L'vae. "Hey you," she greets him softly, so as not to startle or disrupt too much, his contemplation of the sky.
L’vae turns to the sound of the voice, his chin resting at his shoulder and brows lifting with his smile. “Milani,” he says warmly with pleasant surprise. An arm drags off the table so he can twist more fully towards her. “Good to see you. How is your evening?” With barely a pause, one of his hands gestures out in offering towards the nearest chair. “Have a seat?”
Milani returns that smile with a sweet one of her own and nods at the gesturing hand. "Thanks! I'd love to." First though, her mug is set on the table and then she slips into that offered seat beside the weyrling. "It's been a busy day, but it's a nice quiet evening, mostly, except for the racket in there." One of her hands reaches tentatively towards his, to pat the top of it lightly. "And you? Everything going okay with Bremuth? Getting enough sleep? You're all so busy, sometimes it seems like I barely see you!"
L'vae follows Milani's motions as he listens, smile bright and hand staying put for the pat. "We're well enough, thank you," he answers with a single nodding tip of his chin. "And I think I've finally caught the knack of sleeping in those barracks. Or maybe I've just become more acclimated to the hours and exercise." His grin flashes deeper and a shrug lifts shallowly on his shoulders. "It does seem like I haven't seen you in ages," is continued with a peaking of eyebrows. "You've been well? Busy getting us all braced for winter, I'd guess?"
Since his hand isn't running away from hers, she stills her fingers for a moment, just long enough for the warmth of her palm to start to transfer to the top of his hand, then she draws it away, to join the other around the rounded bottom of her mug. "That or you're just too exhausted to pay the noise and the smells and so on much mind," she quips blithely and shakes her hair back over her shoulders, tilts her mug up for a careful first sip of the contents. Smells like hot cider. "Mm. All the tithes are in and stowed, I'm reconciling all the inventories and then we should be all set for the snow. We won't go cold or hungry this turn, I can pretty much guarantee that from seeing what came in."
“That may be it,” L’vae grants with a little chuckle. He watches her mug tilt, inhales a little more deeply in a way that suggests he’s caught scent of the cider’s spice. “That’s good.” A hand scoops out to bring his own mug in front of him, forearms arms lying along the table and he stares at his fingers playing along the imperfections in the glazes sides. Idle fiddling. “Really good, that that mess with Crom was finally tidied up.” Idly said. Looking back over at Milani, the weyrling smiles more lightly. “Should leave you plenty of time to ice skate. It was you who was telling me she liked to ice skate, wasn’t it?”
"Want some?" Milani offers her mug over, head tilted to the side slightly. "What've you got in yours?" And she peeks inside it curiously, though she can't see very well in the low light. "Hopefully it's not that long until you get your own space. Easier to sleep when it's quieter, yeah?" Her head bobs up and down energetically a few times though about Crom. "Oh yes. All settled up. N'thei did a good job there," she says staunchly. "Everything's all set straight and we have what we need to get through the winter, the turn ..." she beams in response to the remark about skating. "Yes. I love to skate. I think Lu does too." Beat. "You know how right, Lou?"
L’vae gives a little shake of his head. “That’s alright, thank you,” he declines. “I had my own…” He tips the cup to facilitate her inspection and, indeed, against the light-colored mug the darkened sediment may even be apparent in the dregs. Setting it flat again, one hand lifts away to be put to task as a prop for his chin even as he nods animated agreement with the hope of getting his own place. But her next words dim the brightness from the weyrling’s expression, a dubious narrowness touching his eyes on the heels of her praise for the weyrleader. He takes a breath that parts his lips, as if to speak, but instead its exhale heralds the return of his smile. “I’ve done it before, but it’s been many turns. I’m afraid I was never that good.” A soft chuckle crinkles further at his eyes. “I’m sure you could skate circles about me, while I’d be racking up bruises.”
"Oh good for you, it's good stuff isn't it?" Milani, exuberant over the drink as she takes another sip, then sets the mug down. His movement to perch his chin atop his hand draws her gaze back to his face and her lips part as if she'd speak again, only it's his expression that brings a question into her eyes at least. "N'thei bugging you?" she states it bluntly with brows lifted, then skips onward, unable it seems to keep a smile off her own face for long. "I'll help you get used to it again," she promises about the skating. "I could do the circles, but that wouldn't be that much fun in the end. Racing now, that's good."
“Mm.” That’s for the cider, being good indeed. Lou’s eyes divert at the question of N’thei, only to come back as she continues about the skating. “I’ll take you up on that.” It’s a cheerfully teasing warning. “And I’ll want head starts on any races.” His grin mellows again, his eyes and un-propped hand returning to fiddling with the mug. “I wouldn’t say he’s bugging me, exactly,” L’vae finally answers. “I... I wonder,” a sideways look is slide back to Milani, hesitant but curious. “It doesn’t seem like him, to compromise.”
"Sure!" Milani agrees readily, qualified by: "Until you get good enough you don't need them anymore." With a saucier grin that she hides behind the rim of her mug and drinks deeply. Her face adopts a 'listening' mien as he shifts back to N'thei and her lips purse slightly, considering before she speaks. "Nope. He's not, really. But sometimes he can pull his head out of his arse long enough to do the right thing. He's got the Weyr's best interests at heart in the end. Just tends to like to take the shortest route to get there instead of the best, y'know?" Millie's eyes seek out L'vae's, solemn for once, one brow quirkin upward, the other, comically downward and scrunching her forehead up.
With fingers drumming lightly against the mug, L’vae listens in return. His eyes search Milani’s face as she speaks to catch meaning in her expression as well as her words. The weyrling’s features are clouded with a wary, not-quite-convinced look. He makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat, holding her gaze. “Are you certain, he’s responsible? For going to Telgar.” Troubled curiosity, uncertainty, lurks in the murky green of his eyes. “Is it possible, someone might have sent him? Is there anyone who could do that? Would do that?”
Milani's brows both draw down now and she considers for a moment. "Uhh ... well okay, I can't be sure, no. I mean, I don't listen at Satiet's door or anything, yeah? But ... what do you mean, 'sent him'. I mean, other than the other people in charge here? Or maybe Gay invited him." She folds her hands together, suddenly looking discomfited herself. "I could ask my brother I guess. He's a harper."
"Compromising isn't the first word I'd think to associate with the Weyrwoman, either, though I can't claim to know her well enough to make judgment," L'vae muses as his thoughts track along with what Milani has said. "Is it something the Weyrscond might do, or Heyda, even?" But it is her latter suggestion that has his brows rising, a lighter spark in his eye. "If your brother would know? That would be interesting." His eyes turn upwards, thoughtful. Fingers now tap along his jaw. After a moment, the weyrling sighs out a breath and drops his gaze back to Millie with a shrug and a smile.
Dragon > The solidity of the ground echoes in a firming of consciousness. The part of the sky that is Bremuth has returned, the physical exertion of flight still humming pleasantly along the fibers of his being. Even as the contented calm of his mind contemplates sleep, it flows out to pool more deeply about his lifemate. Sinking into those fissures of worry, rolling across spines of anger and agitation... continuing the slow erosion of these thoughts which impede harmony. (To L'vae from Bremuth)
Milani blinks a few times. "Hayda? No, she concerns herself with the caverns you know, not ... politics," a wave of the young woman's hand and she hunches her shoulders a little bit, looks down into her mug. "Shan... maybe." Slow agreement and her teeth catching at her lip. "He might. He's posted at Telgar, see. Helped research a bunch of stuff when things went sour in the first place." Some of her equanimity returns and her gaze meets his, steady on. "In the end, N'thei's complicated enough that I don't try to understand him too much. I mean, you can try, but it's like trying to open up one of those Igenite treasure boxes, box within a box within a box and then you might find just a stone inside instead of treasure because the treasure's been moved." She huffs out a little breath. "I've even tried asking him straight up what he means sometimes and he's just not answered. So." Shrug. "He was harper trained though, at one point. No dummy. Just ... likes the short road." A cut of her hand from point A to point B. "Why?" Because of course that question was coming next.
Chin tilting deeper into his palm, L’vae’s brows wrinkle up on his forehead as he looks up and across to Milani with open interest. A wry little twist of his mouth begins to show over the edge of his hand as he listens. At her question, the hand moves to scrub a knuckle over his eyes. “I asked him.” The hand is left to fall to his lap as the weyrling sinks back into his chair. “About Crom. What he said made it sound like the deal wasn’t his idea. Maybe it was just grouching covering something he didn’t want to do, but did anyway,” L’vae allows with a shrug-equivalent flourish of his fingers. “But…” the single word is stated heavily. Smile quirking, the young man tilts a look upwards to the sky. “Maybe I should take your lead and not worry about understanding.” It is said with a wry undercurrent. Dropping a gentler smile back to Milani, he takes a centering breath. “I should get going.” Apologetic. “Don’t want to throw off my recent ability to sleep.” Shifting his weight forward without rising, his hands come to brace on his knees.
"Oh," Milani mulls that over, distractedly finishes off her cider and looks over at L'vae again, brow still wrinkled. "That's ... interesting. I really don't know though, Lou. Mostly, I'm just glad that he wants the Reaches to be okay and does his best, even if it comes out cockeyed sometimes." Her cheeks flush suddenly as he starts to move to leave. "Oh shells, of course, absolutely, sleep!" She declares this wide-eyed and a little abashed. Quick fingers reach for his empty mug. "Give me that? I'll take care of it," all brisk headwoman. She pauses though and looks up at him, not quite shyly but with that sense of hesitation at the quality of that latter smile. Like lightening, she leans in to kiss his cheek lightly. "Sweet dreams, Lou." The contact lingers a fraction of a second longer, just the smoothness of her cheek against his then just like that, she's pushing her chair back, rising and heading back into the Snowasis with the mugs. "See you around! Don't think too hard!" Back to airy merriment as she vanishes into the evening hubbub.
When: Evening, 11/11/15
Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
What: The Duchess and The Caterpillar meet on the patio. (Or: L’vae and Milani talk of work, skating plans for the winter, Crom tithes, and the weyrleader. Includes a pinch of Bremuth, added in.)
louvaen titled and summarized so eloquently that I stole that as well as the clean log.
Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
This ledge is a good size, allowing two large dragons on it at the most, however the furniture and decorations do very little to allow dragons to land. The stone has, through time, become smooth with the sting of High Reaches' biting winter winds. Lacking are the telling talon marks of an occupant at any time within the past decade and the ledge has been weeded and cleared of greenery. Situated along the western bowl, this ledge offers a view of the lake in the distance and has a set of wide steps curving along the bowl wall to the ground.
A stone half-arc shelters half of the ledge from the extreme weathers, where a iron-wrought bench and two patio-like tables have been set up. Little niches, carved out of the stone in a rustic fashion hold glow baskets to provide light at night. The very edge has been decorated with wooden boxes of potted flowers that blossom beautifully in the spring and summer.
The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is a nearly full waning gibbous while Timor winks as a waning crescent. There seems to be a light breeze and the fall air feels a bit nippy.
cMilani
Expressive bright blue-green eyes are the remarkable feature of this young woman's face, the color rather intense, like the seas off Ista Island. A small, slightly upturned nose scattered with freckles across the bridge and full lips complete a winsome face that's most often open and frank of expression. It'd be hard to miss her in a crowd too, given her height, just a smidgen under six feet and the long mane of well-kept, wavy, strawberry-blonde hair that falls nearly to her hips, unbound. Slender and moderately curvy, there's a certain lithe gracefulness to her when she moves that belies her sixteen-odd turns.
Wearing a well-tailored blue dress just a few shades darker than her eyes, Milani combines practicality and prettiness, the skirts only three-quarter length, swirly but not so full that they'd trip her up. Cut to flatter but remain modest, the gown suits its wearer rather well, granting her a certain measure of grace and moderate elegance. A pair of silver earrings set with aquamarine, an airy sisal scarf knotted around her neck and dark teal calf-boots complete the ensemble. The knot of a High Reaches Weyr assistant headwoman loops her shoulder
L'vae
Short brown hair is brushed back in a consciously messy tousle from L'vae's squared forehead. The pale man's features are rounded and relatively plain: brows arching gently over eyes of grayed hazel, a broad wedge of a nose, and an oval jaw line. What does stand out is his mouth, expressively mobile and capable of stretching wide into a smile that crinkles about his eyes and creases deep dimples into his cheeks. His roughly six-foot frame appears to be of average build and he looks to be in his early twenties.
A practical sweater of tight-knit heather grey wool sits close on L'vae's torso. Its edges are finished with wide ribbing and wooden toggles hold up the turtleneck collar or allow it to flop down, dependent on the temperature. The bulk of a belt is outlined underneath the hip-length sweater, holding up a pair of olive trousers made of sturdy corduroy. He is shod in a pair of brown leather boots, the well-oiled toes showing signs of wear. On his shoulder is a knot with a thread of brown indicating he is a weyrling at High Reaches.
It is cold enough out that the patio is sparsely occupied, only a few small clusters of folk spilling out from the warmth and clamor of the Snowasis. At one of the tables sits a lone weyrling, his arms crossed along the top. There’s a mug at one elbow, though if there was once steam rising from it, it has since gone cold. His eyes are turned upwards, distantly into that clear and chilly sky. The softest of smiles rests faintly on his lips.
Bremuth > Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
Bremuth > As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occasional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles.
Dragon > Grace in thought and action, motion and mind joining in fluid meditation. Chill winds whisper along smooth hide. Distant constellations stretch above and warmer constellations wait below, light winking out from pockets in the Weyr's walls. Gibbous Belior's pale glow spills across the land beyond the spires, glinting on distant snowy peaks and disappearing into the inky secrets of valleys. (To L'vae from Bremuth)
From inside the Snowasis soft footsteps sound and a moment later, shawl-clad Milani comes into view, blocking the warm light that spills out of the bar for a moment as she passes the threshold and out into the starry night. She casts about for a few moments, then pauses, eyes caught on the familiar profile of the Weyrling. Steam rises up off the surface of the liquid in the mug she carries and with a smile that's visible briefly in the light from inside she crosses over to L'vae. "Hey you," she greets him softly, so as not to startle or disrupt too much, his contemplation of the sky.
L’vae turns to the sound of the voice, his chin resting at his shoulder and brows lifting with his smile. “Milani,” he says warmly with pleasant surprise. An arm drags off the table so he can twist more fully towards her. “Good to see you. How is your evening?” With barely a pause, one of his hands gestures out in offering towards the nearest chair. “Have a seat?”
Milani returns that smile with a sweet one of her own and nods at the gesturing hand. "Thanks! I'd love to." First though, her mug is set on the table and then she slips into that offered seat beside the weyrling. "It's been a busy day, but it's a nice quiet evening, mostly, except for the racket in there." One of her hands reaches tentatively towards his, to pat the top of it lightly. "And you? Everything going okay with Bremuth? Getting enough sleep? You're all so busy, sometimes it seems like I barely see you!"
L'vae follows Milani's motions as he listens, smile bright and hand staying put for the pat. "We're well enough, thank you," he answers with a single nodding tip of his chin. "And I think I've finally caught the knack of sleeping in those barracks. Or maybe I've just become more acclimated to the hours and exercise." His grin flashes deeper and a shrug lifts shallowly on his shoulders. "It does seem like I haven't seen you in ages," is continued with a peaking of eyebrows. "You've been well? Busy getting us all braced for winter, I'd guess?"
Since his hand isn't running away from hers, she stills her fingers for a moment, just long enough for the warmth of her palm to start to transfer to the top of his hand, then she draws it away, to join the other around the rounded bottom of her mug. "That or you're just too exhausted to pay the noise and the smells and so on much mind," she quips blithely and shakes her hair back over her shoulders, tilts her mug up for a careful first sip of the contents. Smells like hot cider. "Mm. All the tithes are in and stowed, I'm reconciling all the inventories and then we should be all set for the snow. We won't go cold or hungry this turn, I can pretty much guarantee that from seeing what came in."
“That may be it,” L’vae grants with a little chuckle. He watches her mug tilt, inhales a little more deeply in a way that suggests he’s caught scent of the cider’s spice. “That’s good.” A hand scoops out to bring his own mug in front of him, forearms arms lying along the table and he stares at his fingers playing along the imperfections in the glazes sides. Idle fiddling. “Really good, that that mess with Crom was finally tidied up.” Idly said. Looking back over at Milani, the weyrling smiles more lightly. “Should leave you plenty of time to ice skate. It was you who was telling me she liked to ice skate, wasn’t it?”
"Want some?" Milani offers her mug over, head tilted to the side slightly. "What've you got in yours?" And she peeks inside it curiously, though she can't see very well in the low light. "Hopefully it's not that long until you get your own space. Easier to sleep when it's quieter, yeah?" Her head bobs up and down energetically a few times though about Crom. "Oh yes. All settled up. N'thei did a good job there," she says staunchly. "Everything's all set straight and we have what we need to get through the winter, the turn ..." she beams in response to the remark about skating. "Yes. I love to skate. I think Lu does too." Beat. "You know how right, Lou?"
L’vae gives a little shake of his head. “That’s alright, thank you,” he declines. “I had my own…” He tips the cup to facilitate her inspection and, indeed, against the light-colored mug the darkened sediment may even be apparent in the dregs. Setting it flat again, one hand lifts away to be put to task as a prop for his chin even as he nods animated agreement with the hope of getting his own place. But her next words dim the brightness from the weyrling’s expression, a dubious narrowness touching his eyes on the heels of her praise for the weyrleader. He takes a breath that parts his lips, as if to speak, but instead its exhale heralds the return of his smile. “I’ve done it before, but it’s been many turns. I’m afraid I was never that good.” A soft chuckle crinkles further at his eyes. “I’m sure you could skate circles about me, while I’d be racking up bruises.”
"Oh good for you, it's good stuff isn't it?" Milani, exuberant over the drink as she takes another sip, then sets the mug down. His movement to perch his chin atop his hand draws her gaze back to his face and her lips part as if she'd speak again, only it's his expression that brings a question into her eyes at least. "N'thei bugging you?" she states it bluntly with brows lifted, then skips onward, unable it seems to keep a smile off her own face for long. "I'll help you get used to it again," she promises about the skating. "I could do the circles, but that wouldn't be that much fun in the end. Racing now, that's good."
“Mm.” That’s for the cider, being good indeed. Lou’s eyes divert at the question of N’thei, only to come back as she continues about the skating. “I’ll take you up on that.” It’s a cheerfully teasing warning. “And I’ll want head starts on any races.” His grin mellows again, his eyes and un-propped hand returning to fiddling with the mug. “I wouldn’t say he’s bugging me, exactly,” L’vae finally answers. “I... I wonder,” a sideways look is slide back to Milani, hesitant but curious. “It doesn’t seem like him, to compromise.”
"Sure!" Milani agrees readily, qualified by: "Until you get good enough you don't need them anymore." With a saucier grin that she hides behind the rim of her mug and drinks deeply. Her face adopts a 'listening' mien as he shifts back to N'thei and her lips purse slightly, considering before she speaks. "Nope. He's not, really. But sometimes he can pull his head out of his arse long enough to do the right thing. He's got the Weyr's best interests at heart in the end. Just tends to like to take the shortest route to get there instead of the best, y'know?" Millie's eyes seek out L'vae's, solemn for once, one brow quirkin upward, the other, comically downward and scrunching her forehead up.
With fingers drumming lightly against the mug, L’vae listens in return. His eyes search Milani’s face as she speaks to catch meaning in her expression as well as her words. The weyrling’s features are clouded with a wary, not-quite-convinced look. He makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat, holding her gaze. “Are you certain, he’s responsible? For going to Telgar.” Troubled curiosity, uncertainty, lurks in the murky green of his eyes. “Is it possible, someone might have sent him? Is there anyone who could do that? Would do that?”
Milani's brows both draw down now and she considers for a moment. "Uhh ... well okay, I can't be sure, no. I mean, I don't listen at Satiet's door or anything, yeah? But ... what do you mean, 'sent him'. I mean, other than the other people in charge here? Or maybe Gay invited him." She folds her hands together, suddenly looking discomfited herself. "I could ask my brother I guess. He's a harper."
"Compromising isn't the first word I'd think to associate with the Weyrwoman, either, though I can't claim to know her well enough to make judgment," L'vae muses as his thoughts track along with what Milani has said. "Is it something the Weyrscond might do, or Heyda, even?" But it is her latter suggestion that has his brows rising, a lighter spark in his eye. "If your brother would know? That would be interesting." His eyes turn upwards, thoughtful. Fingers now tap along his jaw. After a moment, the weyrling sighs out a breath and drops his gaze back to Millie with a shrug and a smile.
Dragon > The solidity of the ground echoes in a firming of consciousness. The part of the sky that is Bremuth has returned, the physical exertion of flight still humming pleasantly along the fibers of his being. Even as the contented calm of his mind contemplates sleep, it flows out to pool more deeply about his lifemate. Sinking into those fissures of worry, rolling across spines of anger and agitation... continuing the slow erosion of these thoughts which impede harmony. (To L'vae from Bremuth)
Milani blinks a few times. "Hayda? No, she concerns herself with the caverns you know, not ... politics," a wave of the young woman's hand and she hunches her shoulders a little bit, looks down into her mug. "Shan... maybe." Slow agreement and her teeth catching at her lip. "He might. He's posted at Telgar, see. Helped research a bunch of stuff when things went sour in the first place." Some of her equanimity returns and her gaze meets his, steady on. "In the end, N'thei's complicated enough that I don't try to understand him too much. I mean, you can try, but it's like trying to open up one of those Igenite treasure boxes, box within a box within a box and then you might find just a stone inside instead of treasure because the treasure's been moved." She huffs out a little breath. "I've even tried asking him straight up what he means sometimes and he's just not answered. So." Shrug. "He was harper trained though, at one point. No dummy. Just ... likes the short road." A cut of her hand from point A to point B. "Why?" Because of course that question was coming next.
Chin tilting deeper into his palm, L’vae’s brows wrinkle up on his forehead as he looks up and across to Milani with open interest. A wry little twist of his mouth begins to show over the edge of his hand as he listens. At her question, the hand moves to scrub a knuckle over his eyes. “I asked him.” The hand is left to fall to his lap as the weyrling sinks back into his chair. “About Crom. What he said made it sound like the deal wasn’t his idea. Maybe it was just grouching covering something he didn’t want to do, but did anyway,” L’vae allows with a shrug-equivalent flourish of his fingers. “But…” the single word is stated heavily. Smile quirking, the young man tilts a look upwards to the sky. “Maybe I should take your lead and not worry about understanding.” It is said with a wry undercurrent. Dropping a gentler smile back to Milani, he takes a centering breath. “I should get going.” Apologetic. “Don’t want to throw off my recent ability to sleep.” Shifting his weight forward without rising, his hands come to brace on his knees.
"Oh," Milani mulls that over, distractedly finishes off her cider and looks over at L'vae again, brow still wrinkled. "That's ... interesting. I really don't know though, Lou. Mostly, I'm just glad that he wants the Reaches to be okay and does his best, even if it comes out cockeyed sometimes." Her cheeks flush suddenly as he starts to move to leave. "Oh shells, of course, absolutely, sleep!" She declares this wide-eyed and a little abashed. Quick fingers reach for his empty mug. "Give me that? I'll take care of it," all brisk headwoman. She pauses though and looks up at him, not quite shyly but with that sense of hesitation at the quality of that latter smile. Like lightening, she leans in to kiss his cheek lightly. "Sweet dreams, Lou." The contact lingers a fraction of a second longer, just the smoothness of her cheek against his then just like that, she's pushing her chair back, rising and heading back into the Snowasis with the mugs. "See you around! Don't think too hard!" Back to airy merriment as she vanishes into the evening hubbub.