Can't win if you don't try.
Who: Ownah and J'lor
Where: J'lor's weyr
When: Following dinner on on day 20, month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Having been laying low for a bit, Ownah comes out to say hello once more. They talk of gloves and a sled and a decision is very nearly made regarding a certain husband.
5/19/2007
After dinner on day 20, month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Dinner has come and gone, if just barely, and with fall in full swing the sun has disappeared a short time ago. Lingering light from behind the mountain where the sun now resides makes it not entirely dark, but it is clear nighttime has arrived. It is in this no longer dusk period that Ownah has been most active since the messengers from the weyr arrived. Other than her chores which she takes pains to do quickly she doesn't leave the dorms. It is better to feel a prisoner sometimes than to risk word getting back where she is to someone whom she does not wish to find her.
However, tonight she braves the darkened outer hold to make her way up to say hello. Close to the wall she sticks until she must move upwards and then she does so quickly, with little worry for the dark or the fact she could always fall. If she is not fearless she is certainly unconcerned about bodily harm and so she winds up on the ledge leading in to where the once leader of the exiles resides. "Hello?" Her voice is not loud, but in the night air it carries far enough to get to anyone inside.
The time between dinner and full night is a rest period of the riders, since they must currently fly drills during the odd hours when sweepsriders are more scarce. Vellath rests on the ledge, suggesting that his rider is within. He crack open a glowing eye as Ownah arrives and there is, after a moment, a call from within. "Hello, yourself! Come in, come in." If Ownah has been more scarce since the messengers came, J'lor has been a bit more cheery.
The dragon on the ledge has been given a respectful, if wary distance once Ownah arrived in 'his' space. She's not afraid of him, but neither has she any desire to be close to him. Once her greeting is returned she hurries past and inside. Once inside, barely, she stops. "Am I bothering? I can go on away. If I am. You ain't got ta to let me stay or nothing."
The bluerider is seated on his bed, reading over a series of hides that are vaguely, maybe, possibly in sme sort of quasi-organized pattern. "You're never a bother, Ownah. Come. Sit. I have water, if you're thirty?"
Ownah, once given permission, steps farther inside and moves over towards where the rider sits. Down she goes on the floor, legs folded tailor fashion and hands resting loosely in her lap. "Fine right now, thank you. Less you drink at night fewer trips you got to make to pee in the middle of the night when it ain't always safe to be moving about." Sharing! It's good.
"Well," J'lor says around a smile he very much tries not to show, "I suppose that's so. Are you doing all right? I notice that you're a bit...harder to find in general these past few days."
"Those people are here," Ownah explains with a shrug of her shoulders. "Ain't really wanting to see em and don't want em seeing me. Came here so's I could not be found. Best I lay low is all. Do my work, stay in the dorms. Ain't so bad. But. . .dunno. Thought I'd come by and say hi." She shrugs again, all teenaged indifference. She missed him, she was lonely, she was bored. All of that may be true and all of it may be hinted at in her tone when she casually mentions coming by to say hi. But at the same time all of it is hidden, or tries to be, underneath that indifference. She's doing him a favor. Nothing for her in this.
"Well, I appreciate the company. I don't get so many visitors coming to say hi." He glances out to the darkening sky before he notes, "It might snow soon, they say. The sled's nearly ready. I don't think you need to worry about Vanya and Tavaly reporting you. If anything, I expect they'd be sympathetic to your situation."
"Ain't a report I'm worried about, you know. S'just a little slip is all it takes. 'Sides, don't trust em. Especially the one. They say she had something to do with covering up some murder. Was before I was there and all." Ownah peers down at her hands. "Sled's cool. Wish I could help, but I don't know nothing about that stuff. Probably have ta make new gloves for myself I guess. Left mine behind." Reaching behind her for her braid she plays with the end of it. "Didn't want ta be a bother is all. But, just, you know, wanted ta say hi."
"I bet you could help. Not knowing about something just means you have to be taught." J'lor inches forward, pushing his hides aside. "Would you like to see what it looks like so far?"
Leaving her braid be, Ownah looks up and over. "I'd like to see, please. Don't think I could learn. Have trouble learning things. I ain't smart, you know. But I'd like to see." Now she smiles, eager for sled seeing.
"I'd disagree with that. If I can learn, anybody can." J'lor smiles wryly and stands. He moves over to a shadowed corner of the weyr where a shape is covered with a worn blanket, The blanket is pulled off and a sled is lowered down for Ownah's inspection. Or, rather, the top part of a sled. The runenrs are still missing and what exists still needs sanding and varnish.
"Disagreeing don't make it any less true," she points out as she waits to see. "Wow. That's neat so far! You did it by yourself?" Glancing away for a moment, when Ownah looks back at the sled she clears her throat. "Feel bad. I mean, you makin' the sled and all I did was find a hill and seems, you know, unfair. I mean, you're doing all tha work and stuff. Could maybe try to make you some new gloves? Figure you ain't got any, right? Can't knit any worse than anyone else when I try."
The bluerider crouches down, one hand running over the proto-sled. "She still needs quite a bit of work. Are you sure you won't help me sand?" He tilts his head to the side, smiling faintly. "I haven't had gloves for turns and turns. I suppose I haven't needed them. I'd be grateful, if you had the time to make me a pair."
Biting down on her lip Ownah looks at the sled again, keeping her hands in her lap. Look, but don't touch. "I might mess it up. I wouldn't want to mess up your work." The way in which she whispers hints she has not had good experiences messing up someone's work in the past. "I could knit if you don' mind what colors though. Or if one ain't the same size as the other."
"My fingers are not very particular about such things." J'lor leans back a little, reaching for a bag of tools that sits beside the sled-so-far. He draws out several pieces of sandpaper and holds one out toward Ownah, brows lifted. "It's pretty near impossible to mess up sanding." He jerks his fingers up and down making the sandpaper held between them wiggle.
"Mess things up. It's what I do. S'what I was told." Ownah shrugs at this pronouncement. She is a messer up of Things. "Don't mean to, but I just ain't ever really been able to figure things out. Guess I could try to help." Reaching for the sandpaper offered to her she smiles all timid-like. "Maybe some night I could come sit with you while you worked on it and I could knit? So's in case I had ta make sure it'd fit." Stopping after trying to invite herself back she tacks on a hurriedly said, "But I don' got ta or nothing. I mean, it ain't no big deal. And stuff. Nevermind."
"Ownah," J'lor's hand lowers once it's freed of sandpaper, "you are always welcome to visit, for any reason. I'd enjoy your company for whateever reason you wished to offer it. You do not mess things up. And if those who said so were the same who convinced you it was right and proper for a wife to be hit by her husband, you already know my thoughts towards such opinions." He leans over the sled and sets the sandpaper down on a corner of it, rubbing the paper over the wood to it rasp--rasps as it begins to even out the sled.
There is, for his words, a little quiet laugh. "Yea, I know you don' agree with how I was raised. But it wasn' all bad. I mean, I guess I make it out ta sound all bad, but it weren't." Ownah rubs the sandpaper between her fingers and watches carefully the movements of his hand on the sled. "Miss havin' people, ya know? I mean, family. Ain't got no one here at night I wanna sit with. We used ta all sit at the end of tha day is all. Lonely I guess."
"It can be, I expect, when you lose somebody you were used to having around. Somebody you cared for." His hand continues in that simple motion and J'lor glances up at Ownah and then down towards the sled. Plenty of it still to sand. "I'm used to having somebody to sit with as well."
"Do you have a family? I guess- I mean, sorry. I mean, I ain't ever even asked and you been so nice and here I am all just thinkin' about myself." Ownah keeps her hands to herself still for the moment, considering the feelings of guilt at her realization. "You ain't always gotta let me go on. I mean, we're gonna be friends you get ta talk to, yea?"
"I talk enough as it is, and I never mind listening," J'lor offers. "I...had a family once. But I lost them." He looks back down to his work, rubbing the sandpaper more briskly over the corner of the sled. "It's been some time, though, since that happened."
"Don' mind listenin' either is all. I mean, I know I go on and I shouldn't anyway." Ownah once more considers the sled and with a hesitant gesture extends the sandpaper holding hand towards it. "I just rub it?" It seems to be what is going on, but there could be some secret invisible trick. "I'm sorry. 'bout your family. Don' matter how long ago you lost em. It still is sad. You ain't gotta talk about it though. Not if you don' want."
"You just rub it," J'lor affirms. "After a bit, slide your hand over the wood," J'lor moves the sandpaper so he can demonstrate, brushing wood dust away as he does so. "When it feels even, you're ready to move on to the next spot. It's not...I miss them every day, but I never quite know what to say about them."
With a deep breath taken more in keeping with someone getting ready to, oh, sew up a gaping chest wound, Ownah applies sandpaper to wood and begins to rub it back and forth with slow even strokes. "I don' know. Was it a big family? What happened to em? They not come with you? I mean, are they here? You could see em, yea? I bet they miss you. I miss my family too."
"Not very big," J'lor says with a shake of his head. "My weyrmate and my daughter. We left her behind, my daughter, when we left. I..." he shakes his head. "I cannot see her. She drew that for me when she was little. Before...before I left." He nods towards the little drawing that hangs on the wall above his bed. "My weyrmate died a few turns ago. First 'fall."
Barely started and she stops again so her head might turn to find the drawing and study it. "S'cute. I'm sorry you can't talk to her. Hey! You could write her a letter, yea? I mean, letters go out. Even if you can' go where she's at." A pause as Ownah's attention returns to the sled. Well, the least bit. With her head down she peers through her bangs over at the sled maker. "Kin she read? You probably taught her, yea? If she were old enough. Could send her a note and maybe she could come here? An', m'sorry. For yer loss."
"She can read," J'lor affirms quietly. "She doesn't want to see me. I don't suppose I can blame her, but there you have it." He runs his palm over the sled and shifts again, sanding a new spot. "Thank you."
"Still could send her a letter," Ownah offers softly. "Ain't right a daughter not wantin' ta see her father though. S'not right at all." Shaking her head she resumes her work, paper back to the spot she was working on before. "It make you sad ta talk about? I kin change the subject. I don' want ta make you sad after you been so nice and all. Better than my own family."
"Considering the many and terrible things her father has done, I think she has a right. I wish it wasn't so, but..." another small shake of J'lor's head. "I suppose it makes me a bit sad. I miss them, but I have found that sometimes there is more to family than just blood. Our families are where we find them."
The non-sanding hand reaches out to give a timid pat to someone's father's shoulder. "You ain't so old as all that. There's still time ta make peace. Maybe someday she won' be so mad? You get over bein' mad. Always do. My gran said mad only gets you so far and then you gotta decide if it owns ya or not." Ownah pauses in her work to run her hand over the spot she's working on.
"Maybe," J'lor agrees, though without his usual optimism. "I would have liked to have met your gan, I think. How's the sanding coming along?"
"She would'a liked you, I bet. Gran was a good woman. I miss her. In a way I'm glad she died when she did. Before all the troubles and stuff. Didn't die worryin' none for her family." Ownah stops sanding again and rubs her hand over the spot she's been working on. "Going ok. Am I too slow?"
"She sounds like a good woman," is the bluerider's agreement. For Ownah's question he shifts so he can peer out of the weyr and into the bowl. "It's still not snowing," he informs his guest solemnly, "so I don't think there's any need to rush."
Not looking out, instead looking down at her work, Ownah can't suppress a quiet giggle. "Ain't snowin' yet, no." Another stop to test her spot and this time it seems to pass muster so she slides the sandpaper to the left to begin again. "I only planned on bein' here a turn. That's almost half over now, ya know. I mean, nearly so. Don't seem like it. Not even sure now if he'd even take me back. But ain't so sure staying here is smart."
"It...may not be. I do not know, yet. Certainly, it is an unusual place to be. Don't...Ownah." J'lor turns to regard the young woman with his dark and solemn eyes. "Don't go back to him. Please."
"I- umm." Ownah looks up again, brushing her bangs from her face. "Ain't sure I can not. I mean, I'm his wife. Ain't my place to leave him. His place to let me go. If I don't he'll find me. Someday. He'll make me pay for it and I'll have ta kill him or he won't let me be."
"We'll find some way to settle it. We'll get him to 'let you go', but you're not obliged to return to him. Not after the way he's treated you." J'lor has, for the time being, forgotten about his sandpaper.
"Ain't no way he's alive. He said so. Used ta tell me when he was drinkin'. I was his, ya know? His wife. Can't leave." Ownah instead of stopping her work continues on with a single-minded determination. "I sometimes. . .dream 'bout him. About what he'll do if he finds me. Can't sleep after. Not all night."
"He's not going to touch you," J'lor promises intently. "Not ever again. And if you cannot sleep, well, I'm up for a while after drills anyhow. I could use the company. You said he's a guard?" He looks down, but his hand on the sandpaper remains still. "I could...I have heard good things about the Captain there. J...Jensen, isn't that his name?"
Head shaking, Ownah looks up from her work. "Not a kid. Don' need to go runnin' ta someone I have a bad dream. Ain't- scared. Not of some dream." Real man, sure, dream, well, yea. That too. "He's a guard, yea. Ain't such a bad one. Know he's got his problems, but he don' drink on tha job and he does his part. Ain't never heard of no complaints against him." Now she stops working even as she continues to stare. "How you know him? Tha captain? Yea, Jensen. Never really met him. Urbann, he didn't like me ta talk to tha other men, you know. Didn't trust me is all."
"I met him once, a long time ago. He seemed a good sort. He might keep an eye out, if you were to let him know what was happening." J'lor nods faintly. "Well, if you ever decide not sleeping with company is better than not sleeping alone..." the offer goes unfinished.
"Oh, no!" The sandpaper slips from her fingers and Ownah scoots back an inch or so from the sled and the bluerider by the sled. "No, no! We can' tell him. I mean, we can' tell! Please, promise me ya won't ever tell his captain. He'd kill me for sure I got him in trouble. Please." Wide brown eyes plead fearfully as she wraps her arms around her waist.
"All right. Shh, all right." J'lor drops his own sandpaper to lean forward with his hand lifted in a 'stop' or 'do no harm' gesture. "I won't write to his captain, you have my word. It's okay, my dear. He's not going to touch you."
So easily worked up into a fright it takes a moment for the words to settle into her brain. When it does, Ownah just picks up her sandpaper and resumes her work like nothing's wrong. Focusing on the slow back and forth sound and feel she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean ta be a baby about it. It's just- I know you don' agree with what he done, but it weren't his fault is all. I were a bad wife. And gettin' him in trouble with his work over stuff he done just ta me don't make sense. Thank you."
"It was his fault," is the bluerider's gentle disagreement. "There's no justificaion for violence. I wish you would not make excuses for him." Sand sand sand.
"He's my husband. S'my place as his wife to- to look out for him. It's what my mother told me when I got married. She said you got ta defend your husband cause he'll need you to." Ownah's head nods as she speaks, carefully reciting what she was told. "He protects you and you protect him. It's what you do when married. I'm a good wife. When I don' mess up is all. Sometimes I mess up. Do you not think I coulda been a good wife? I tried real hard. It's just I didn't wanna marry him is all. I didn't want ta marry anyone. It's my fault."
"And did he, Ownah," J'lor asks, "did he protect you? It is not your fault. He failed you and himself. If that is marriage..." he shakes his head, puffing air from past his lips, frustrated. "I do not understand it at all."
"Three turns we was married. He provided for me. Even when I still didn't give him no son." Pulling her hand from the sled the sandpaper is set on the ground. Ownah folds her hands tightly together. "Even when I almost killed him. He could have killed me too. But he didn't. He just- he just showed me my mistake is all. I don' want to go back to him. He hits me again I'll kill him. I swear I will. I won' let no one do that again."
"Then do not go back to him. Don't say that you'll kill him. You don't want blood on your hands. Believe me, my dear. I know. Stay away, seek out a new life. I'll help however I can." J'lor rocks back on his heels and lowers into a proper sit. "Start over."
"Got no future though. Not without him." Ownah shifts her hands so her palms rest on her thighs, stubby nails digging into the fabric of her pants. "Spend tha rest of my life doin' laundry here? That ain't no future. Nothing in Nabol for me. Can't go off nowhere. M'scared." Killing her husband is not brought up again. It is, likely, a subject that they will have to agree to disagree on should it come up in the future.
"You do not have to spend the rest of your life doing laundry. If you wish to be a...if you wish to pursue other options, do so. If not here, where else could you try? Is it not worth an attempt?" The bluerider smiles softly as he observes Ownah.
"If I fail they was all right, weren't they? That I'm not good at nothin' and there's somethin' wrong with me." Another tilt upwards of her head so she might peek towards him. "You think I want to be a guard I should try, yea?" Ownah shakes her head slowly. "Like I could, right? It ain't ever gonna happen. Can't think on what you can't be."
"I think you should try. I think it is better to try and fail than to never know. You are no coward, Ownah." J'lor scoots around so that he can sit across from her without the sled in the way.
One hand lifts so Ownah can worry at her fingernail with her teeth. "Tryin' ain't- It ain't easy. Know I ain't no coward. Came here, didn't I?" She smiles for a second with a trace of pride. "Anyway, gotta be smart to be good and I'm not. Smart, I mean. Nowhere'll let no girl be a guard. Ain't done. S'not right."
"You seem smart to me. And just because it hasn't been done...I know it's difficult," J'lor settles his hands in his lap, studying is palms. ""Trying. Taking a risk. But it can be worthwhile. To risk nothing is to gain nothing."
"I were so smart I wouldn't be here havin' ta hide from men that don't mean me no good," Ownah points out with the faintest of almost smiles. "An' I been takin' up your whole night. I'm sorry. I shouldn't still be here when you surely got better things ta do than listen to me whine and talk about stuff that ain't gonna happen ever."
"I think I may begin a tally of the number of times you tell me how much I don't wish to hear what you have to say, each time we meet. It is rather my hope that said number will begin to decrease after a while. Go on, then. We'll work on the sled later." J'lor leans forward to offer Ownah's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It will never happen if you do not try."
"Start working on your gloves tomorrow. Only gotta work half a day. Can get going on em." Ownah rises up gracefully from the floor after her shoulder gets squeezed. A little teasing smile accompanies the holding out of her hand. "You need help up, old man?"
"Oh my poor bones," J'lor replies dryly. But he slips his hand into Ownah's, even if he pushes upwards mostly on his own. "Rest well, my dear. Thank you for the gloves."
Head shaking slow, Ownah releases his hand once he's up. "Thank me once you got em. Can't promise much of nothing. Umm. Thank you." Backwards step towards the exit and then likely before she can think better of it she steps up once more to give the bluerider a hug. And then she's out and away.
The hug comes so quickly that J'lor barely manages to get his arms around Ownah before she's flitting away again. And as it seems to go with these encounters, the bluerider's last words are offered only to the empty air. "You are welcome, my dear." Then he begins to put away the sandpaper and resettle the sled against the wall.
Where: J'lor's weyr
When: Following dinner on on day 20, month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Having been laying low for a bit, Ownah comes out to say hello once more. They talk of gloves and a sled and a decision is very nearly made regarding a certain husband.
5/19/2007
After dinner on day 20, month 10, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Dinner has come and gone, if just barely, and with fall in full swing the sun has disappeared a short time ago. Lingering light from behind the mountain where the sun now resides makes it not entirely dark, but it is clear nighttime has arrived. It is in this no longer dusk period that Ownah has been most active since the messengers from the weyr arrived. Other than her chores which she takes pains to do quickly she doesn't leave the dorms. It is better to feel a prisoner sometimes than to risk word getting back where she is to someone whom she does not wish to find her.
However, tonight she braves the darkened outer hold to make her way up to say hello. Close to the wall she sticks until she must move upwards and then she does so quickly, with little worry for the dark or the fact she could always fall. If she is not fearless she is certainly unconcerned about bodily harm and so she winds up on the ledge leading in to where the once leader of the exiles resides. "Hello?" Her voice is not loud, but in the night air it carries far enough to get to anyone inside.
The time between dinner and full night is a rest period of the riders, since they must currently fly drills during the odd hours when sweepsriders are more scarce. Vellath rests on the ledge, suggesting that his rider is within. He crack open a glowing eye as Ownah arrives and there is, after a moment, a call from within. "Hello, yourself! Come in, come in." If Ownah has been more scarce since the messengers came, J'lor has been a bit more cheery.
The dragon on the ledge has been given a respectful, if wary distance once Ownah arrived in 'his' space. She's not afraid of him, but neither has she any desire to be close to him. Once her greeting is returned she hurries past and inside. Once inside, barely, she stops. "Am I bothering? I can go on away. If I am. You ain't got ta to let me stay or nothing."
The bluerider is seated on his bed, reading over a series of hides that are vaguely, maybe, possibly in sme sort of quasi-organized pattern. "You're never a bother, Ownah. Come. Sit. I have water, if you're thirty?"
Ownah, once given permission, steps farther inside and moves over towards where the rider sits. Down she goes on the floor, legs folded tailor fashion and hands resting loosely in her lap. "Fine right now, thank you. Less you drink at night fewer trips you got to make to pee in the middle of the night when it ain't always safe to be moving about." Sharing! It's good.
"Well," J'lor says around a smile he very much tries not to show, "I suppose that's so. Are you doing all right? I notice that you're a bit...harder to find in general these past few days."
"Those people are here," Ownah explains with a shrug of her shoulders. "Ain't really wanting to see em and don't want em seeing me. Came here so's I could not be found. Best I lay low is all. Do my work, stay in the dorms. Ain't so bad. But. . .dunno. Thought I'd come by and say hi." She shrugs again, all teenaged indifference. She missed him, she was lonely, she was bored. All of that may be true and all of it may be hinted at in her tone when she casually mentions coming by to say hi. But at the same time all of it is hidden, or tries to be, underneath that indifference. She's doing him a favor. Nothing for her in this.
"Well, I appreciate the company. I don't get so many visitors coming to say hi." He glances out to the darkening sky before he notes, "It might snow soon, they say. The sled's nearly ready. I don't think you need to worry about Vanya and Tavaly reporting you. If anything, I expect they'd be sympathetic to your situation."
"Ain't a report I'm worried about, you know. S'just a little slip is all it takes. 'Sides, don't trust em. Especially the one. They say she had something to do with covering up some murder. Was before I was there and all." Ownah peers down at her hands. "Sled's cool. Wish I could help, but I don't know nothing about that stuff. Probably have ta make new gloves for myself I guess. Left mine behind." Reaching behind her for her braid she plays with the end of it. "Didn't want ta be a bother is all. But, just, you know, wanted ta say hi."
"I bet you could help. Not knowing about something just means you have to be taught." J'lor inches forward, pushing his hides aside. "Would you like to see what it looks like so far?"
Leaving her braid be, Ownah looks up and over. "I'd like to see, please. Don't think I could learn. Have trouble learning things. I ain't smart, you know. But I'd like to see." Now she smiles, eager for sled seeing.
"I'd disagree with that. If I can learn, anybody can." J'lor smiles wryly and stands. He moves over to a shadowed corner of the weyr where a shape is covered with a worn blanket, The blanket is pulled off and a sled is lowered down for Ownah's inspection. Or, rather, the top part of a sled. The runenrs are still missing and what exists still needs sanding and varnish.
"Disagreeing don't make it any less true," she points out as she waits to see. "Wow. That's neat so far! You did it by yourself?" Glancing away for a moment, when Ownah looks back at the sled she clears her throat. "Feel bad. I mean, you makin' the sled and all I did was find a hill and seems, you know, unfair. I mean, you're doing all tha work and stuff. Could maybe try to make you some new gloves? Figure you ain't got any, right? Can't knit any worse than anyone else when I try."
The bluerider crouches down, one hand running over the proto-sled. "She still needs quite a bit of work. Are you sure you won't help me sand?" He tilts his head to the side, smiling faintly. "I haven't had gloves for turns and turns. I suppose I haven't needed them. I'd be grateful, if you had the time to make me a pair."
Biting down on her lip Ownah looks at the sled again, keeping her hands in her lap. Look, but don't touch. "I might mess it up. I wouldn't want to mess up your work." The way in which she whispers hints she has not had good experiences messing up someone's work in the past. "I could knit if you don' mind what colors though. Or if one ain't the same size as the other."
"My fingers are not very particular about such things." J'lor leans back a little, reaching for a bag of tools that sits beside the sled-so-far. He draws out several pieces of sandpaper and holds one out toward Ownah, brows lifted. "It's pretty near impossible to mess up sanding." He jerks his fingers up and down making the sandpaper held between them wiggle.
"Mess things up. It's what I do. S'what I was told." Ownah shrugs at this pronouncement. She is a messer up of Things. "Don't mean to, but I just ain't ever really been able to figure things out. Guess I could try to help." Reaching for the sandpaper offered to her she smiles all timid-like. "Maybe some night I could come sit with you while you worked on it and I could knit? So's in case I had ta make sure it'd fit." Stopping after trying to invite herself back she tacks on a hurriedly said, "But I don' got ta or nothing. I mean, it ain't no big deal. And stuff. Nevermind."
"Ownah," J'lor's hand lowers once it's freed of sandpaper, "you are always welcome to visit, for any reason. I'd enjoy your company for whateever reason you wished to offer it. You do not mess things up. And if those who said so were the same who convinced you it was right and proper for a wife to be hit by her husband, you already know my thoughts towards such opinions." He leans over the sled and sets the sandpaper down on a corner of it, rubbing the paper over the wood to it rasp--rasps as it begins to even out the sled.
There is, for his words, a little quiet laugh. "Yea, I know you don' agree with how I was raised. But it wasn' all bad. I mean, I guess I make it out ta sound all bad, but it weren't." Ownah rubs the sandpaper between her fingers and watches carefully the movements of his hand on the sled. "Miss havin' people, ya know? I mean, family. Ain't got no one here at night I wanna sit with. We used ta all sit at the end of tha day is all. Lonely I guess."
"It can be, I expect, when you lose somebody you were used to having around. Somebody you cared for." His hand continues in that simple motion and J'lor glances up at Ownah and then down towards the sled. Plenty of it still to sand. "I'm used to having somebody to sit with as well."
"Do you have a family? I guess- I mean, sorry. I mean, I ain't ever even asked and you been so nice and here I am all just thinkin' about myself." Ownah keeps her hands to herself still for the moment, considering the feelings of guilt at her realization. "You ain't always gotta let me go on. I mean, we're gonna be friends you get ta talk to, yea?"
"I talk enough as it is, and I never mind listening," J'lor offers. "I...had a family once. But I lost them." He looks back down to his work, rubbing the sandpaper more briskly over the corner of the sled. "It's been some time, though, since that happened."
"Don' mind listenin' either is all. I mean, I know I go on and I shouldn't anyway." Ownah once more considers the sled and with a hesitant gesture extends the sandpaper holding hand towards it. "I just rub it?" It seems to be what is going on, but there could be some secret invisible trick. "I'm sorry. 'bout your family. Don' matter how long ago you lost em. It still is sad. You ain't gotta talk about it though. Not if you don' want."
"You just rub it," J'lor affirms. "After a bit, slide your hand over the wood," J'lor moves the sandpaper so he can demonstrate, brushing wood dust away as he does so. "When it feels even, you're ready to move on to the next spot. It's not...I miss them every day, but I never quite know what to say about them."
With a deep breath taken more in keeping with someone getting ready to, oh, sew up a gaping chest wound, Ownah applies sandpaper to wood and begins to rub it back and forth with slow even strokes. "I don' know. Was it a big family? What happened to em? They not come with you? I mean, are they here? You could see em, yea? I bet they miss you. I miss my family too."
"Not very big," J'lor says with a shake of his head. "My weyrmate and my daughter. We left her behind, my daughter, when we left. I..." he shakes his head. "I cannot see her. She drew that for me when she was little. Before...before I left." He nods towards the little drawing that hangs on the wall above his bed. "My weyrmate died a few turns ago. First 'fall."
Barely started and she stops again so her head might turn to find the drawing and study it. "S'cute. I'm sorry you can't talk to her. Hey! You could write her a letter, yea? I mean, letters go out. Even if you can' go where she's at." A pause as Ownah's attention returns to the sled. Well, the least bit. With her head down she peers through her bangs over at the sled maker. "Kin she read? You probably taught her, yea? If she were old enough. Could send her a note and maybe she could come here? An', m'sorry. For yer loss."
"She can read," J'lor affirms quietly. "She doesn't want to see me. I don't suppose I can blame her, but there you have it." He runs his palm over the sled and shifts again, sanding a new spot. "Thank you."
"Still could send her a letter," Ownah offers softly. "Ain't right a daughter not wantin' ta see her father though. S'not right at all." Shaking her head she resumes her work, paper back to the spot she was working on before. "It make you sad ta talk about? I kin change the subject. I don' want ta make you sad after you been so nice and all. Better than my own family."
"Considering the many and terrible things her father has done, I think she has a right. I wish it wasn't so, but..." another small shake of J'lor's head. "I suppose it makes me a bit sad. I miss them, but I have found that sometimes there is more to family than just blood. Our families are where we find them."
The non-sanding hand reaches out to give a timid pat to someone's father's shoulder. "You ain't so old as all that. There's still time ta make peace. Maybe someday she won' be so mad? You get over bein' mad. Always do. My gran said mad only gets you so far and then you gotta decide if it owns ya or not." Ownah pauses in her work to run her hand over the spot she's working on.
"Maybe," J'lor agrees, though without his usual optimism. "I would have liked to have met your gan, I think. How's the sanding coming along?"
"She would'a liked you, I bet. Gran was a good woman. I miss her. In a way I'm glad she died when she did. Before all the troubles and stuff. Didn't die worryin' none for her family." Ownah stops sanding again and rubs her hand over the spot she's been working on. "Going ok. Am I too slow?"
"She sounds like a good woman," is the bluerider's agreement. For Ownah's question he shifts so he can peer out of the weyr and into the bowl. "It's still not snowing," he informs his guest solemnly, "so I don't think there's any need to rush."
Not looking out, instead looking down at her work, Ownah can't suppress a quiet giggle. "Ain't snowin' yet, no." Another stop to test her spot and this time it seems to pass muster so she slides the sandpaper to the left to begin again. "I only planned on bein' here a turn. That's almost half over now, ya know. I mean, nearly so. Don't seem like it. Not even sure now if he'd even take me back. But ain't so sure staying here is smart."
"It...may not be. I do not know, yet. Certainly, it is an unusual place to be. Don't...Ownah." J'lor turns to regard the young woman with his dark and solemn eyes. "Don't go back to him. Please."
"I- umm." Ownah looks up again, brushing her bangs from her face. "Ain't sure I can not. I mean, I'm his wife. Ain't my place to leave him. His place to let me go. If I don't he'll find me. Someday. He'll make me pay for it and I'll have ta kill him or he won't let me be."
"We'll find some way to settle it. We'll get him to 'let you go', but you're not obliged to return to him. Not after the way he's treated you." J'lor has, for the time being, forgotten about his sandpaper.
"Ain't no way he's alive. He said so. Used ta tell me when he was drinkin'. I was his, ya know? His wife. Can't leave." Ownah instead of stopping her work continues on with a single-minded determination. "I sometimes. . .dream 'bout him. About what he'll do if he finds me. Can't sleep after. Not all night."
"He's not going to touch you," J'lor promises intently. "Not ever again. And if you cannot sleep, well, I'm up for a while after drills anyhow. I could use the company. You said he's a guard?" He looks down, but his hand on the sandpaper remains still. "I could...I have heard good things about the Captain there. J...Jensen, isn't that his name?"
Head shaking, Ownah looks up from her work. "Not a kid. Don' need to go runnin' ta someone I have a bad dream. Ain't- scared. Not of some dream." Real man, sure, dream, well, yea. That too. "He's a guard, yea. Ain't such a bad one. Know he's got his problems, but he don' drink on tha job and he does his part. Ain't never heard of no complaints against him." Now she stops working even as she continues to stare. "How you know him? Tha captain? Yea, Jensen. Never really met him. Urbann, he didn't like me ta talk to tha other men, you know. Didn't trust me is all."
"I met him once, a long time ago. He seemed a good sort. He might keep an eye out, if you were to let him know what was happening." J'lor nods faintly. "Well, if you ever decide not sleeping with company is better than not sleeping alone..." the offer goes unfinished.
"Oh, no!" The sandpaper slips from her fingers and Ownah scoots back an inch or so from the sled and the bluerider by the sled. "No, no! We can' tell him. I mean, we can' tell! Please, promise me ya won't ever tell his captain. He'd kill me for sure I got him in trouble. Please." Wide brown eyes plead fearfully as she wraps her arms around her waist.
"All right. Shh, all right." J'lor drops his own sandpaper to lean forward with his hand lifted in a 'stop' or 'do no harm' gesture. "I won't write to his captain, you have my word. It's okay, my dear. He's not going to touch you."
So easily worked up into a fright it takes a moment for the words to settle into her brain. When it does, Ownah just picks up her sandpaper and resumes her work like nothing's wrong. Focusing on the slow back and forth sound and feel she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean ta be a baby about it. It's just- I know you don' agree with what he done, but it weren't his fault is all. I were a bad wife. And gettin' him in trouble with his work over stuff he done just ta me don't make sense. Thank you."
"It was his fault," is the bluerider's gentle disagreement. "There's no justificaion for violence. I wish you would not make excuses for him." Sand sand sand.
"He's my husband. S'my place as his wife to- to look out for him. It's what my mother told me when I got married. She said you got ta defend your husband cause he'll need you to." Ownah's head nods as she speaks, carefully reciting what she was told. "He protects you and you protect him. It's what you do when married. I'm a good wife. When I don' mess up is all. Sometimes I mess up. Do you not think I coulda been a good wife? I tried real hard. It's just I didn't wanna marry him is all. I didn't want ta marry anyone. It's my fault."
"And did he, Ownah," J'lor asks, "did he protect you? It is not your fault. He failed you and himself. If that is marriage..." he shakes his head, puffing air from past his lips, frustrated. "I do not understand it at all."
"Three turns we was married. He provided for me. Even when I still didn't give him no son." Pulling her hand from the sled the sandpaper is set on the ground. Ownah folds her hands tightly together. "Even when I almost killed him. He could have killed me too. But he didn't. He just- he just showed me my mistake is all. I don' want to go back to him. He hits me again I'll kill him. I swear I will. I won' let no one do that again."
"Then do not go back to him. Don't say that you'll kill him. You don't want blood on your hands. Believe me, my dear. I know. Stay away, seek out a new life. I'll help however I can." J'lor rocks back on his heels and lowers into a proper sit. "Start over."
"Got no future though. Not without him." Ownah shifts her hands so her palms rest on her thighs, stubby nails digging into the fabric of her pants. "Spend tha rest of my life doin' laundry here? That ain't no future. Nothing in Nabol for me. Can't go off nowhere. M'scared." Killing her husband is not brought up again. It is, likely, a subject that they will have to agree to disagree on should it come up in the future.
"You do not have to spend the rest of your life doing laundry. If you wish to be a...if you wish to pursue other options, do so. If not here, where else could you try? Is it not worth an attempt?" The bluerider smiles softly as he observes Ownah.
"If I fail they was all right, weren't they? That I'm not good at nothin' and there's somethin' wrong with me." Another tilt upwards of her head so she might peek towards him. "You think I want to be a guard I should try, yea?" Ownah shakes her head slowly. "Like I could, right? It ain't ever gonna happen. Can't think on what you can't be."
"I think you should try. I think it is better to try and fail than to never know. You are no coward, Ownah." J'lor scoots around so that he can sit across from her without the sled in the way.
One hand lifts so Ownah can worry at her fingernail with her teeth. "Tryin' ain't- It ain't easy. Know I ain't no coward. Came here, didn't I?" She smiles for a second with a trace of pride. "Anyway, gotta be smart to be good and I'm not. Smart, I mean. Nowhere'll let no girl be a guard. Ain't done. S'not right."
"You seem smart to me. And just because it hasn't been done...I know it's difficult," J'lor settles his hands in his lap, studying is palms. ""Trying. Taking a risk. But it can be worthwhile. To risk nothing is to gain nothing."
"I were so smart I wouldn't be here havin' ta hide from men that don't mean me no good," Ownah points out with the faintest of almost smiles. "An' I been takin' up your whole night. I'm sorry. I shouldn't still be here when you surely got better things ta do than listen to me whine and talk about stuff that ain't gonna happen ever."
"I think I may begin a tally of the number of times you tell me how much I don't wish to hear what you have to say, each time we meet. It is rather my hope that said number will begin to decrease after a while. Go on, then. We'll work on the sled later." J'lor leans forward to offer Ownah's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It will never happen if you do not try."
"Start working on your gloves tomorrow. Only gotta work half a day. Can get going on em." Ownah rises up gracefully from the floor after her shoulder gets squeezed. A little teasing smile accompanies the holding out of her hand. "You need help up, old man?"
"Oh my poor bones," J'lor replies dryly. But he slips his hand into Ownah's, even if he pushes upwards mostly on his own. "Rest well, my dear. Thank you for the gloves."
Head shaking slow, Ownah releases his hand once he's up. "Thank me once you got em. Can't promise much of nothing. Umm. Thank you." Backwards step towards the exit and then likely before she can think better of it she steps up once more to give the bluerider a hug. And then she's out and away.
The hug comes so quickly that J'lor barely manages to get his arms around Ownah before she's flitting away again. And as it seems to go with these encounters, the bluerider's last words are offered only to the empty air. "You are welcome, my dear." Then he begins to put away the sandpaper and resettle the sled against the wall.