Sanctuary 2
IC Date: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: E'sere, Vanya
Location: E'sere's Weyr, Late Night
Synopsis: After going to E'sere's weyr, there's a bit of melancholy, a bit of comforting, and finally sleep. E'sere learns a little about the Vanya she keeps hidden, and reveals a bit of himself, as well. It's easier to talk in the quiet darkness of a weyr at night. Part 2 of 2.
E'sere and Morelenth's Weyr
This narrow ledge is longer than it is wide, fanning out on either side of the entrance into the weyr. The stone has been deeply scored by the passage of countless dragons over the turns. Its location is optimal; natural outcroppings of the bowl wall keep the wind from raking the ledge's surface and the sun reaches the rock to heat it for most of the day.
Inside, E'sere's weyr is laid out like any other weyr, dragon couch at the fore and rider quarters at the back. However, the decor is not typical bachelor pad: E'sere has instead taken some care in choosing furnishings--a rich dark wood desk and chair, matching padded chairs in a small seating area, and his large bed at the back--and decorations, mainly expensive-looking tapestries hung from the walls.
It takes a moment for Vanya to actually rise, the pins and needles shooting through her legs nothing compared to the little spasms of sensation trilling through the rest of her. Once on her feet, she studies the chair he sits in, uncertain there's room for her, too, and looks a little perplexed. They'd be close, even closer than when dancing. "Is there room for me?" she asks dubiously. "I don't want to crowd you."
"If I minded," E'sere chides Vanya gently, "I'd not suggest it. Come here; it's okay." Obligingly, he scoots over a little, though it doesn't really make more than another inch of room for her--not exactly making it an easier fit. The only way she might have a chance of being more comfortable with him than in the floor is if she actually sat in his lap; to judge by the way he's watching what she does, this fact isn't lost on him.
Vanya looks at the chair and seems to be having a difficult time deciding what to do. Finally, she simplymoves forward. "If I sit with you in the chair, I'd be in your lap," she says, voice a little hesitant. "I don't want to presume, or crush your legs. I'm not a child anymore, and the last time I sat in anyone's lap I was six ..."
E'sere leans forward to reach for one of Vanya's hands to pull her closer. "I don't mind," he repeats emphatically. "If you're comfortable with that. I... I don't want to take advantage of your good nature, not tonight." Pause. He amends, "Not ever, but... not tonight especially."
A little rush of sensation travels up Vanya's arm from the warmth of E'sere's hand on hers. Despite the summer night, her skin seems a little cold. There's an offer of sanctuary, of safety in the touch, and she doesn't resist being pulled closer, sinking into his lap, settling there. She feels six again, like the child she was when her father used to sit her in his lap and tell her stories or talk about making someone feel better. She's a little awkward, but smiles. "I think I'm the one taking advantage of you," she says, voice small. "You've been so kind to me, tonight especially. I feel so ... lost." The dress rustles and the weight of her hair is making it fall down even more now, half tumbling down her neck.
E'sere offers a small smile to the woman as she finally settles across him, moving to slide his arms gently about her. "You have only indulged my desire to do so," he murmurs in answer. "And that is hardly taking advantage. I am much farther from victim in this than you." A pause. Quieter still: "I wish I could offer more comfort, but I'm as lost as you. But at least we're not alone in that."
It seems only natural for her to just relax against his chest, to let her head rest on his shoulder as those strong arms go around her. It feels safe here, and that lost part of Vanya seems very willing to let E'sere take control, to just let him guide her through this. "I didn't know where to turn," she says. "I thought they'd be more concerned about the --" And her eyes move to the bag and bottle on the desk. She shudders, the shiver moving through her like cold fingers. "No, we're not alone. Others surely feel as lost. The dragons ... Morelenth seems so sad." And she looks to the bronze on his couch. "I feel so sorry for him, but at least he has you."
E'sere moves to lean his cheek against Vanya's head, frowning at her words. "They're too shocked to really be concerned. In the morning--once the hangovers start wearing off--we'll be able to think, and to examine what happened and who is responsible. Right now, though, we're just circling our wagons and shutting off from everything until we can cope with it better," he notes after a moment. He lifts his head again to follow her gaze to Morelenth, the bronze curled up but not asleep, simply staring dully at the opposite wall. "He is sad," E'sere agrees after a moment, frown unhappier yet. "A queen's death weighs more heavily than another dragon's death, but they still--they feel things differently than we do, because in some way, the way they talk mentally, they always have a sense of who's there and who's... not. Even if they don't see another dragon /between/, they know when she's gone. They feel that. But he'll forget it soon, and he'll be okay; their memories are shorter-lived than ours, too. It's their own way of coping. We've been through bad things together before, and we'll survive this, too."
Vanya listens in silence, her eyes still on the bronze, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. She's a compassionate woman, and though she's vowed never to let anyone see her cry, Morelenth is a thinking, feeling creature, and her heart goes out to him. "Just because the hurt will fade doesn't mean he doesn't feel it as acutely as the rest of us," she reasons, words soft. "Perhaps they're luckier than we are, that their memories are shorter lived. I know I'll never forget tonight." She takes a long, deep breath, exhales slowly. "I've seen death many times, but never quite like this. Not deliberate. I hate death. It's my enemy, just as Thread is yours and Morelenth's. I fight it daily, and I will keep fighting it as long as there's breath in my body." There's an ardor in the words. Vanya may not know the passion between people, but she knows the fire of desire to defeat an insidious enemy.
"I think he is," E'sere agrees with a sad smile. "I used to wonder how they could stand forgetting; but I understand now. There are some things one doesn't want to remember, but all we can do is push them to the back of our minds and go one with our lives." He shrugs. "Different ways of looking at things, I guess. He has me to remember for him, though, so we manage. I... I've seen death like this before. I didn't understand it then, though, and I don't now, either."
"Some things I don't want to understand, I admit it," Vanya says, reaching a hand to touch the rich material of E'sere's shirt, feeling the texture. "Deliberate death, mur --" She can't quite bring herself to say the whole word yet. "Preserving life is my reason for living. I don't want to know how someone could kill another person. It's alien to me, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face that darkness. I know what it's like to hate, or to dislike intensely, and I spent turns trying to purge that from inside me. I don't want to remember the rage I used to feel against the Lord Holder's girls, rage that made me picture hurting them. The same kind of rage inside that makes a person want to kill." She closes her eyes, her face pale, her entire body cold. So different from moments ago when she was being kissed.
E'sere's arms tighten slightly, more comfort offered in the gesture. "I... I can... I think I understand it better than I'd like, even now. There are people I hate--loathe--can imagine hurting. And that scares me. I don't want to be that person." His expression is pensive a moment, and then he moves to press a kiss to Vanya's temple. "It will be okay, though. We'll find who did this, and we'll see that they're punished; and then we'll set the Weyr to rights again," he murmurs reassuringly.
"I know you will, E'sere," Vanya says softly, her eyes still closed. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be here now, and I know how much you want the weyr to be strong and functioning the way it should. I have the faith you will do what you can to help, to set things right. It's one of the things I admire most about you," she says. She reaches now to take one of his hands, to hold it, run her fingers over the back. "Hate is a very negative thing, but it has it's place in our lives, as much as other emotions. It's all a matter of balancing the positive and the negative. One cannot out weigh the other, lest the darkness take over inside."
Vanya's confidence in him brings another small smile to E'sere's lips as he watches her, moves to twine his fingers into hers. "It sounds like you know more than you'd care to admit about it, too," he notes after a moment, wry. "But you give very good advice."
"More than I'd like to admit, I think," Vanya says. "I've hated people, too, E'sere, wanted to hurt them, even ... even kill them, I think, though I was too young to recognize it as that. There are lots of stairs in Ruatha, and a carelessly placed object can cause a nasty, even fatal, fall." She sighs again; all those turns of suffering at the hands of two very cruel cousins coming back to her. "I've never told anyone how much it hurt. To be one of them and not one of them. Teased with the nice things, but never allowed to have them. To know if you did anything to get back, people you loved would suffer, too." She looks at the entwined hands. "It was better at the hall, but there were people there, too, who wanted me to suffer. Only by then I'd learned never to let anyone see the wounds."
E'sere's lips purse as he listens, brows furrowing. "I understand," he agrees quietly. "There are a lot of people like that in this world: cruel ones, people who can't be happy unless no one else is. When Ganathon gave me my knot, I discovered quite a lot of them in my wing; I'd just graduated the Caucus, and before that weyrlinghood, and a lot of them, the older ones who could remember back when I was born here, didn't like that. They thought it was nepotism. /I/ thought it was nepotism," he admits wryly. "But eventually they come around, or they retire, and the ones who come after them are usually more open, more accepting. My wing and I are all very close now."
"I'm glad to hear that," Vanya remarks, her other hand coming to rest on the clasped ones. "I don't know all the parties involved in this, or the reasons behind the Weyrwoman's death. In ways, that leaves me free to observe from the outside, but in other ways it leaves me terribly vulnerable. Right now, it's best I don't know, since it keeps me objective." She pauses her eyes lifting to E'sere's face, gaze falling on his lips. "I don't know how objective I can be about you, though. I know some will think you did this, but ... but I'm not one of them, E'sere. I want to see the real killer found, and I want to see the weyr strong and healthy. I'll do what I can to see that happens, but I'm only a healer. I have no power here."
"I... have been a suspect much longer than this," E'sere says gently. "I led a wing of riders in 'Fall over Nabol without the Weyrleader's permission shortly after the Igenite takeover. There has been no love lost between myself and their leadership, and there are those who see that as motive enough for me to be behind everything that's occurred, all the terrible things that have been going on here since they arrived--and certainly this. It's ironic, isn't it, that when I should finally try to make a public display of unity with our Weyrwoman that she should be murdered under my watch?" He snorts, glances downward; then, up again to meet Vanya's gaze. "Thank you," he tells her quietly. "For believing me. I might not have approved of her, of what she did to my Weyr, but I could not kill her for that."
Vanya's free hand moves up, the backs of her fingers running down the stubbled cheek with gentleness. "I know, E'sere. If I thought you could, I wouldn't be here with you now. I was in shock, yes, but that didn't rob me of my wits totally. My concerns weren't that you were guilty, but that you might be compromised by me being here. That was my only reason for hesitation, not because I thought you behind her death." Her eyes are dark and large and filled with concern. "You may have anger and hatred for some things, but you've spoken openly about the changes you'd like to see, what needs to be fixed. Told me that some views aren't popular, and that there was danger in the shadows. It wouldn't make sense to tear it all apart with one act. It's just not logical to me."
"No, it wouldn't, but I'm afraid sense left the Reaches a long time ago," E'sere confesses sadly, shaking his head slightly. "But thank you, for thinking of me. I'll be okay, though--we'll speak to the Weyrleader in the morning and start sorting everything out. I've already had my wingsecond relay we'll have no drills, so we can focus on this entirely. I'm glad, though, to know you'll stand by me--it's a help to my case and a comfort to me. Thank you."
Vanya smiles shyly, her eyes cast down. "Doubtless there'll be those who'll claim my head was just turned by your charm, or I'm just naive and too trusting of you," she says, quiet. "Dara will believe the worst, and tell me how foolish I am, that your only motive is self-interest. That I'm being used, and having my head turned by a handsome face and a bronze dragon." She shakes her head. "She thinks I'm totally unaware that a man might have ulterior motives, but though I tend to take people at face value and not look for underlying motives, might be too trusting of riders like D'ven, I'm not totally without intelligence. If I didn't think I was safe here, I would not be here, E'sere. It would do your case no good for anything to happen to me or the evidence. It would only condemn you more." A pause and she looks at him directly. "I'm safer with you than anywhere else, even if you were guilty, which I don't think you are. You're far more intelligent than that."
"Essdara... Mm." E'sere's smile tightens slightly, and he ducks his head to confess, "I have the feeling she wasn't over-fond of me before this, and doubtless now she's more upset. I should go speak to her, soon as I've time. And--well. Thank you, again. You're right, though, that if anything happened it would only incriminate me more, and certainly the Weyrleader will see that." A pause. His lips purse as he sits silent, and finally notes, "You seem... not like most of the women I'm familiar with. Invariably, they're either giggly lower caverns girls who stare at you in awe and only see a fancy knot, or the goldriders and Bloods here, who think they're above the rest of the world, myself included."
Vanya's smile is still shy. "I'm no different than most women, E'sere, not really. Maybe a little more naive about some things, perhaps a bit more out-spoken about my ideals. I just want to heal the hurts as much as I can, and not see others suffer." She sighs again, letting her hand rest still against his cheek. "I can't heal all the world's ills by letting my own past make me bitter. I still have hurts of my own to work through, but how can I help others if I let the past make me bitter and do the same to others as was done to me? It doesn't solve anything, only adds to the hurt. So, I try to do my best to turn the negative to a positive and press on regardless. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but along the way, I do have occasional success, and the rare reward now and again."
"I think you do yourself a disservice," E'sere notes simply, cocking that half-smile of his again. "Those who truly want to help--without selfish motive--are very rare. Perhaps I'm too tied up into politics to see otherwise, but it's always seemed to me that even those who do the best things sometimes do those for the worst reasons, and vice versa. I'm glad to see that doesn't hold true elsewhere, though."
"I don't truly understand politics, E'sere," Vanya says, her eyes thoughtful. "I've seen them played, yes, and know the motivation behind them, but I don't want to become intimate friends with them. Maybe if I did, I could have avoided some problems I had at the Hall." She gives a shrug. "All I know is that people end up hurt, and that lies, deceit and greed certainly aren't solving much. I don't lie. I've seen what lies can do up close and personal. I won't say anything if I have to lie. I will make the truth as palatable as possible, but I won't falsely flatter someone or lie. Honesty has always been the best way. Maybe not the nicest, but the best, and the truth wills out in the end, no matter how deeply it's hidden. It will come out sooner or later."
"It's all I know," E'sere admits, shifting slightly in the chair and looking abashed for that confession. "Watching Mother, Ganathon, the Weyrwoman Diya... I suppose it was inevitable I'd find myself caught up in it, too. I wish it were otherwise, but that's all the leadership of Pern knows, and if I wish to have some effect for good on the Weyr, the rest of the world, then I have to play by their rules as much as I can. But I don't have to like it, and I don't have to--to debase myself the way some of them do."
"No, you don't," Vanya agrees, "and although the only way to gain ground may be to play by their rules, you don't have to sink to any levels beyond those limits you set for yourself. I won't think less of you for that, E'sere, for playing by their rules. It may change what's seen here," and she touches his face with her fingertips, "but it doesn't have to change what's in here." Her hand rests over where his heart beats in his chest. "And, in the long run, it's what's in there that counts. I understand doing things because you /have/ to, but I also know it doesn't /have/ to change what's inside you. Most people let it change them, but that's a choice they make, not an absolute." She smiles, leaning forward this time to press her lips to his temple. "I'm not perfect, by the way. I have many faults, and they've gotten me into trouble, trust me. But I try to stay true to myself, to what's inside me."
E'sere inclines his head slightly for Vanya to kiss his temple, smiling faintly. "Very good advice," he agrees, reaching a hand up to rest over hers on his chest. He leans in again to find her lips with his, and afterward notes, a little reluctantly, "It's getting late, though. We should probably be getting to bed. Tomorrow... tomorrow will be long and busy, and we'll need our wits about us."
There's a part of Vanya reluctant to leave his lap, the comfort of his arms, but he's right. There's been enough for tonight, and she suddenly realizes just how tired she is. "You're right, of course," she admits, and takes a deep breath. "I feel sorry for your legs, supporting me all this time, but it was nice. Very nice. I'd forgotten what it was like to be held. Thank you for reminding me, even though I wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances." She makes the ultimate decision, untangling her fingers from his. "Go to bed, E'sere," she says, smiling as she begins to rise. "If you don't mind helping, I'll shove the two chairs together and be fine sleeping here. I'm used to infirmary chairs, and these are a lot more comfortable. I'll just need a pillow, if there's an extra."
"No, you'll not," E'sere says, his voice gentle but still firm as he watches her. "You are my guest, and I insist you have the bed. You need it more than I do, Vanya." He stands as well when she does, rubbing a hand idly across one leg before he reaches to slide it behind her waist to guide her to the bed if she declines again.
"But, I don't mind, really," Vanya protests, her wits back to normal. "You'll be facing every bit as much tomorrow as I will, probably more." All the time, she's being guided to the bed, and knows she's going to give in, mainly because she knows E'sere isn't going to take no for an answer. She sighs, coming up with one last argument. "Besides, I'm used to sleeping on long shifts, in uncomfortable chairs, you're not." By then, she's at the foot of the bed. "I do this under protest," she finally says, turning in his arm and facing him. "If you won't let me sleep in the chair, then at least share the bed, it's big enough for two." It's likely this is one of those things she doesn't realize may have implications of something else. "I won't mind, I'll probably be asleep by the time my head hits the pillow, and I sleep deeply. You won't disturb me."
Vanya's protests only result in a shake of E'sere's head, the bronzerider smiling softly as he leads her to the bed. At the foot, however, he stops, glancing at her and arching a brow slightly at her question. "Are you sure about that?" he asks her dubiously.
"We'll both be asleep, so I don't see the problem, really," Vanya says. "Besides, if you sleep in the chair, it's going to leave you stiff and sore, and I'll end up having to give you a massage. Not, mind you, I'd mind, but I'd rather not have it on my conscience it was my fault for your back hurting." She shakes her head. "No, like I said, I'll be asleep the moment my head hits the pillow." She smiles up at him. "You can't convince me that you'd relish a chair over your own bed. I won't crowd you, I promise."
"If you're sure, then," E'sere concedes at last, with a smile. "It's kind of you to offer, and you needn't worry about me. You won't bother me, I assure you. If you're comfortable, I will be, too."
"Then it's settled," Vanya says with a smile. "I just need to take off a few things, and I'll be perfectly comfortable." She starts by kicking off her shoes, first, then taking off the necklace and earrings, putting them in one of her shoes. The hair pins are next, hair tumbling down at last. The stomacher and overdress are likewise discarded, leaving her in the loose, lightweight under chemise. The dress is folded neatly and she moves back across the weyr to the chair, laying it over the back. Returning, she looks to E'sere. "Which side do you prefer? Where do you want me?"
E'sere simply watches Vanya for a time as she partially undresses, lips tilted in a half-smile. Her question arches a brow, and he answers, "Where do I want you. I... It doesn't matter to me. Anywhere you're most comfortable." He rolls his shoulders slightly and starts unbuttoning his own shirt, shrugging it off and, like Vanya, folding it neatly and putting it away.
Vanya nods, making a choice and moving to one side of the bed, sitting down. "Oh, this is nice," she says, looking up at him as he begins to disrobe. It's not a rude staring, and she will turn away when he removes the shirt, giving him privacy. Instead, she begins to braid her hair for the night. "I do warn you, my hair has a life of its own at night. I've had dreams where I thought I was being strangled only to find it was my hair wrapped around my neck. Without the overdress to hold it in place, one shoulder of the chemise slips down on one side, baring a shoulder. "And I don't snore, that I know of, at least. Of course, I've never slept with anyone, just in dorms and all. You learn to tune sounds out after a while."
E'sere doesn't seem remotely bothered by Vanya's watching, though her turning away results in a bemused smile. "And is it likely to attack me, too?" he asks her absently as he removes his shoes, and then belt, and then pants, too, not nearly so modest as Vanya. At least, however, he leaves underwear in place, for her sake. "It's been turns since I slept with people not of my own choosing. Not since weyrlinghood, and I had managed to wrangle a private room before that, so. But you won't bother me, still, I assure you. I've probably endured worse than you can do to me," he tells her wryly as he starts pulling back the covers on his side.
She turns back, then, noticing he's down to underwear, faintly blushes and keeps working on her hair. "I don't know, it might," she says, amusement in the tone. "Remember, a mind of its own. For all I know, it leaves my head and goes out carousing. From the tangles in the morning, even with it braided, it must be doing /something/!" She chuckles, finishes, though has no ribbon to fix the end. She leaves it loose, tossing it over her shoulder. Rising, she pulls down one side of the cover, climbs in, lying on her side. "I've rarely had a room of my own. When I was little, I shared with Rappa, or mother. Then, of course, there were no private rooms for apprentices at the Hall. Actually, my room here is the first time I've been truly alone at night to sleep. It was noisy in the dormitory here, but ... it's almost too quiet in my room. I can hear my own heartbeat it's so quiet."
"I always liked the quiet," confesses E'sere as he slides into the bed on his side, glancing sideways at Vanya. "It was a nice change to escape the dorms--something else to attribute to nepotism, I suppose, but." His shoulders lift slightly in an awkward shrug. "But it's still nice to have company, too, sometimes. I'm fortunate, I suppose: I've always got Morelenth here to talk to at night. Not everyone has that luxury."
Vanya rolls to her other side, facing him now that he's lying down. "That must be nice, to never be completely alone, to always know there's someone there in the dark, only a thought away if you need them. You're very fortunate for that. Being totally alone is nice sometimes, but other times, the dark gets very lonely," she tells him. "At night, in the hospital wards, you sit for hours doing nothing, reading or just ... thinking. A person can think too much, at times." Her voice is soft, almost whispering. "Morelenth won't mind me being here, will he? I mean, if he's used to having you to himself at night."
E'sere arches a brow at Vanya's question, himself sliding onto his side to observe her. One arm is stretched out under his pillow and the edge of hers to get more comfortable, the bronzerider settling in. "He won't," he reassures her. "He not the possessive sort. He never really minds sharing me; he's... he's used to it." He offers a wry smile at that confession, glancing downward away from her.
Vanya nods, her eyes a little sleepy, her voice a little lower as she relaxes. "That's good, him not minding." She lies there a moment, her own arms similarly aligned, one tucked childishly under her chin. "I take it you seldom lack for company at night, then? No, I suppose you wouldn't, being a bronzerider and charming to boot." So, she's not entirely without wits. It's obvious the riders seldom lack for willing partners, should they wish companionship.
E'sere hesitates a moment, then gives in with a soft smile. "Not if I'm looking," he confesses, "but don't take that to mean that every night I'm trolling the living cavern for someone, please. That's not me, all one-night-stands and a different girl every day."
Vanya nods, smiling a little. "I'm beginning to understand weyrlife a bit better now, and I've come to see what you meant by living life to the fullest because the day may be your last. After the 'fall, seeing all those riders hurt, their dragons hurting..." Her voice trails off in the darkness, then, "I can better see things now. I see why you all take other things either very seriously, or not seriously at all. It makes more sense to me. I can also see it's going to get harder and harder for me, especially the better I come to know you all." She looks across to him, eyes large and almost luminous in the darkness. "I was so afraid I'd see you or D'ven there, wounded or ..." No she won't say it. "It's hard on us down here, too." A whisper.
"I think," E'sere says slowly, "I'd rather be up there fighting it than down here waiting. It's a lot easier to be up there, doing and not thinking, than it is to do just the opposite of that on the ground. Morelenth and I have been very lucky, though--luckier than we deserve--in that we've only been hit once, and lightly at that. Morelenth caught a tangle across his muzzle over Nabol. There's been... There's been many that weren't so fortunate. M'tello, K'ret, P'tral," he names some of the dead.
And, in his own whisper: "Ganathon."
Vanya listens, wanting so much to reach out and offer comfort, uncertain if she should. "Ganathon? Wasn't he the older man who came in with the young woman? The one who accused everyone of letting this happen?" She seems to be replaying the night again. "I thought I heard him called G'thon...?" There's a few moments of silence, then her eyes widen perceptibly. "His ... dragon," she whispers, horror in the words. "Oh, poor man..."
"That's him," E'sere says simply, his frown sad, eyes averted from Vanya. "He was G'thon, when he was our Weyrleader."
Now she understands, and no longer hestitates, reaching out her hand and once more stroking his face, offering that bit of comfort. "We're tired, and that brings on melancholy sometimes. And, I'm keeping you awake, too. I'm sorry." Her hand continues the stroking, gentle, soothing, down his cheek, across his brow, long, smooth strokes of fingertips. "Thank you for talking, E'sere. It's helped me so much, your friendship has. Sleep now, and tomorrow will take care of itself."
"Good night, Vanya," E'sere murmurs as he leans forward to offer another kiss to her. And, when that's through, he turns back onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling as he seeks sleep. It's a long time coming.
Players: E'sere, Vanya
Location: E'sere's Weyr, Late Night
Synopsis: After going to E'sere's weyr, there's a bit of melancholy, a bit of comforting, and finally sleep. E'sere learns a little about the Vanya she keeps hidden, and reveals a bit of himself, as well. It's easier to talk in the quiet darkness of a weyr at night. Part 2 of 2.
E'sere and Morelenth's Weyr
This narrow ledge is longer than it is wide, fanning out on either side of the entrance into the weyr. The stone has been deeply scored by the passage of countless dragons over the turns. Its location is optimal; natural outcroppings of the bowl wall keep the wind from raking the ledge's surface and the sun reaches the rock to heat it for most of the day.
Inside, E'sere's weyr is laid out like any other weyr, dragon couch at the fore and rider quarters at the back. However, the decor is not typical bachelor pad: E'sere has instead taken some care in choosing furnishings--a rich dark wood desk and chair, matching padded chairs in a small seating area, and his large bed at the back--and decorations, mainly expensive-looking tapestries hung from the walls.
It takes a moment for Vanya to actually rise, the pins and needles shooting through her legs nothing compared to the little spasms of sensation trilling through the rest of her. Once on her feet, she studies the chair he sits in, uncertain there's room for her, too, and looks a little perplexed. They'd be close, even closer than when dancing. "Is there room for me?" she asks dubiously. "I don't want to crowd you."
"If I minded," E'sere chides Vanya gently, "I'd not suggest it. Come here; it's okay." Obligingly, he scoots over a little, though it doesn't really make more than another inch of room for her--not exactly making it an easier fit. The only way she might have a chance of being more comfortable with him than in the floor is if she actually sat in his lap; to judge by the way he's watching what she does, this fact isn't lost on him.
Vanya looks at the chair and seems to be having a difficult time deciding what to do. Finally, she simplymoves forward. "If I sit with you in the chair, I'd be in your lap," she says, voice a little hesitant. "I don't want to presume, or crush your legs. I'm not a child anymore, and the last time I sat in anyone's lap I was six ..."
E'sere leans forward to reach for one of Vanya's hands to pull her closer. "I don't mind," he repeats emphatically. "If you're comfortable with that. I... I don't want to take advantage of your good nature, not tonight." Pause. He amends, "Not ever, but... not tonight especially."
A little rush of sensation travels up Vanya's arm from the warmth of E'sere's hand on hers. Despite the summer night, her skin seems a little cold. There's an offer of sanctuary, of safety in the touch, and she doesn't resist being pulled closer, sinking into his lap, settling there. She feels six again, like the child she was when her father used to sit her in his lap and tell her stories or talk about making someone feel better. She's a little awkward, but smiles. "I think I'm the one taking advantage of you," she says, voice small. "You've been so kind to me, tonight especially. I feel so ... lost." The dress rustles and the weight of her hair is making it fall down even more now, half tumbling down her neck.
E'sere offers a small smile to the woman as she finally settles across him, moving to slide his arms gently about her. "You have only indulged my desire to do so," he murmurs in answer. "And that is hardly taking advantage. I am much farther from victim in this than you." A pause. Quieter still: "I wish I could offer more comfort, but I'm as lost as you. But at least we're not alone in that."
It seems only natural for her to just relax against his chest, to let her head rest on his shoulder as those strong arms go around her. It feels safe here, and that lost part of Vanya seems very willing to let E'sere take control, to just let him guide her through this. "I didn't know where to turn," she says. "I thought they'd be more concerned about the --" And her eyes move to the bag and bottle on the desk. She shudders, the shiver moving through her like cold fingers. "No, we're not alone. Others surely feel as lost. The dragons ... Morelenth seems so sad." And she looks to the bronze on his couch. "I feel so sorry for him, but at least he has you."
E'sere moves to lean his cheek against Vanya's head, frowning at her words. "They're too shocked to really be concerned. In the morning--once the hangovers start wearing off--we'll be able to think, and to examine what happened and who is responsible. Right now, though, we're just circling our wagons and shutting off from everything until we can cope with it better," he notes after a moment. He lifts his head again to follow her gaze to Morelenth, the bronze curled up but not asleep, simply staring dully at the opposite wall. "He is sad," E'sere agrees after a moment, frown unhappier yet. "A queen's death weighs more heavily than another dragon's death, but they still--they feel things differently than we do, because in some way, the way they talk mentally, they always have a sense of who's there and who's... not. Even if they don't see another dragon /between/, they know when she's gone. They feel that. But he'll forget it soon, and he'll be okay; their memories are shorter-lived than ours, too. It's their own way of coping. We've been through bad things together before, and we'll survive this, too."
Vanya listens in silence, her eyes still on the bronze, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. She's a compassionate woman, and though she's vowed never to let anyone see her cry, Morelenth is a thinking, feeling creature, and her heart goes out to him. "Just because the hurt will fade doesn't mean he doesn't feel it as acutely as the rest of us," she reasons, words soft. "Perhaps they're luckier than we are, that their memories are shorter lived. I know I'll never forget tonight." She takes a long, deep breath, exhales slowly. "I've seen death many times, but never quite like this. Not deliberate. I hate death. It's my enemy, just as Thread is yours and Morelenth's. I fight it daily, and I will keep fighting it as long as there's breath in my body." There's an ardor in the words. Vanya may not know the passion between people, but she knows the fire of desire to defeat an insidious enemy.
"I think he is," E'sere agrees with a sad smile. "I used to wonder how they could stand forgetting; but I understand now. There are some things one doesn't want to remember, but all we can do is push them to the back of our minds and go one with our lives." He shrugs. "Different ways of looking at things, I guess. He has me to remember for him, though, so we manage. I... I've seen death like this before. I didn't understand it then, though, and I don't now, either."
"Some things I don't want to understand, I admit it," Vanya says, reaching a hand to touch the rich material of E'sere's shirt, feeling the texture. "Deliberate death, mur --" She can't quite bring herself to say the whole word yet. "Preserving life is my reason for living. I don't want to know how someone could kill another person. It's alien to me, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face that darkness. I know what it's like to hate, or to dislike intensely, and I spent turns trying to purge that from inside me. I don't want to remember the rage I used to feel against the Lord Holder's girls, rage that made me picture hurting them. The same kind of rage inside that makes a person want to kill." She closes her eyes, her face pale, her entire body cold. So different from moments ago when she was being kissed.
E'sere's arms tighten slightly, more comfort offered in the gesture. "I... I can... I think I understand it better than I'd like, even now. There are people I hate--loathe--can imagine hurting. And that scares me. I don't want to be that person." His expression is pensive a moment, and then he moves to press a kiss to Vanya's temple. "It will be okay, though. We'll find who did this, and we'll see that they're punished; and then we'll set the Weyr to rights again," he murmurs reassuringly.
"I know you will, E'sere," Vanya says softly, her eyes still closed. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be here now, and I know how much you want the weyr to be strong and functioning the way it should. I have the faith you will do what you can to help, to set things right. It's one of the things I admire most about you," she says. She reaches now to take one of his hands, to hold it, run her fingers over the back. "Hate is a very negative thing, but it has it's place in our lives, as much as other emotions. It's all a matter of balancing the positive and the negative. One cannot out weigh the other, lest the darkness take over inside."
Vanya's confidence in him brings another small smile to E'sere's lips as he watches her, moves to twine his fingers into hers. "It sounds like you know more than you'd care to admit about it, too," he notes after a moment, wry. "But you give very good advice."
"More than I'd like to admit, I think," Vanya says. "I've hated people, too, E'sere, wanted to hurt them, even ... even kill them, I think, though I was too young to recognize it as that. There are lots of stairs in Ruatha, and a carelessly placed object can cause a nasty, even fatal, fall." She sighs again; all those turns of suffering at the hands of two very cruel cousins coming back to her. "I've never told anyone how much it hurt. To be one of them and not one of them. Teased with the nice things, but never allowed to have them. To know if you did anything to get back, people you loved would suffer, too." She looks at the entwined hands. "It was better at the hall, but there were people there, too, who wanted me to suffer. Only by then I'd learned never to let anyone see the wounds."
E'sere's lips purse as he listens, brows furrowing. "I understand," he agrees quietly. "There are a lot of people like that in this world: cruel ones, people who can't be happy unless no one else is. When Ganathon gave me my knot, I discovered quite a lot of them in my wing; I'd just graduated the Caucus, and before that weyrlinghood, and a lot of them, the older ones who could remember back when I was born here, didn't like that. They thought it was nepotism. /I/ thought it was nepotism," he admits wryly. "But eventually they come around, or they retire, and the ones who come after them are usually more open, more accepting. My wing and I are all very close now."
"I'm glad to hear that," Vanya remarks, her other hand coming to rest on the clasped ones. "I don't know all the parties involved in this, or the reasons behind the Weyrwoman's death. In ways, that leaves me free to observe from the outside, but in other ways it leaves me terribly vulnerable. Right now, it's best I don't know, since it keeps me objective." She pauses her eyes lifting to E'sere's face, gaze falling on his lips. "I don't know how objective I can be about you, though. I know some will think you did this, but ... but I'm not one of them, E'sere. I want to see the real killer found, and I want to see the weyr strong and healthy. I'll do what I can to see that happens, but I'm only a healer. I have no power here."
"I... have been a suspect much longer than this," E'sere says gently. "I led a wing of riders in 'Fall over Nabol without the Weyrleader's permission shortly after the Igenite takeover. There has been no love lost between myself and their leadership, and there are those who see that as motive enough for me to be behind everything that's occurred, all the terrible things that have been going on here since they arrived--and certainly this. It's ironic, isn't it, that when I should finally try to make a public display of unity with our Weyrwoman that she should be murdered under my watch?" He snorts, glances downward; then, up again to meet Vanya's gaze. "Thank you," he tells her quietly. "For believing me. I might not have approved of her, of what she did to my Weyr, but I could not kill her for that."
Vanya's free hand moves up, the backs of her fingers running down the stubbled cheek with gentleness. "I know, E'sere. If I thought you could, I wouldn't be here with you now. I was in shock, yes, but that didn't rob me of my wits totally. My concerns weren't that you were guilty, but that you might be compromised by me being here. That was my only reason for hesitation, not because I thought you behind her death." Her eyes are dark and large and filled with concern. "You may have anger and hatred for some things, but you've spoken openly about the changes you'd like to see, what needs to be fixed. Told me that some views aren't popular, and that there was danger in the shadows. It wouldn't make sense to tear it all apart with one act. It's just not logical to me."
"No, it wouldn't, but I'm afraid sense left the Reaches a long time ago," E'sere confesses sadly, shaking his head slightly. "But thank you, for thinking of me. I'll be okay, though--we'll speak to the Weyrleader in the morning and start sorting everything out. I've already had my wingsecond relay we'll have no drills, so we can focus on this entirely. I'm glad, though, to know you'll stand by me--it's a help to my case and a comfort to me. Thank you."
Vanya smiles shyly, her eyes cast down. "Doubtless there'll be those who'll claim my head was just turned by your charm, or I'm just naive and too trusting of you," she says, quiet. "Dara will believe the worst, and tell me how foolish I am, that your only motive is self-interest. That I'm being used, and having my head turned by a handsome face and a bronze dragon." She shakes her head. "She thinks I'm totally unaware that a man might have ulterior motives, but though I tend to take people at face value and not look for underlying motives, might be too trusting of riders like D'ven, I'm not totally without intelligence. If I didn't think I was safe here, I would not be here, E'sere. It would do your case no good for anything to happen to me or the evidence. It would only condemn you more." A pause and she looks at him directly. "I'm safer with you than anywhere else, even if you were guilty, which I don't think you are. You're far more intelligent than that."
"Essdara... Mm." E'sere's smile tightens slightly, and he ducks his head to confess, "I have the feeling she wasn't over-fond of me before this, and doubtless now she's more upset. I should go speak to her, soon as I've time. And--well. Thank you, again. You're right, though, that if anything happened it would only incriminate me more, and certainly the Weyrleader will see that." A pause. His lips purse as he sits silent, and finally notes, "You seem... not like most of the women I'm familiar with. Invariably, they're either giggly lower caverns girls who stare at you in awe and only see a fancy knot, or the goldriders and Bloods here, who think they're above the rest of the world, myself included."
Vanya's smile is still shy. "I'm no different than most women, E'sere, not really. Maybe a little more naive about some things, perhaps a bit more out-spoken about my ideals. I just want to heal the hurts as much as I can, and not see others suffer." She sighs again, letting her hand rest still against his cheek. "I can't heal all the world's ills by letting my own past make me bitter. I still have hurts of my own to work through, but how can I help others if I let the past make me bitter and do the same to others as was done to me? It doesn't solve anything, only adds to the hurt. So, I try to do my best to turn the negative to a positive and press on regardless. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but along the way, I do have occasional success, and the rare reward now and again."
"I think you do yourself a disservice," E'sere notes simply, cocking that half-smile of his again. "Those who truly want to help--without selfish motive--are very rare. Perhaps I'm too tied up into politics to see otherwise, but it's always seemed to me that even those who do the best things sometimes do those for the worst reasons, and vice versa. I'm glad to see that doesn't hold true elsewhere, though."
"I don't truly understand politics, E'sere," Vanya says, her eyes thoughtful. "I've seen them played, yes, and know the motivation behind them, but I don't want to become intimate friends with them. Maybe if I did, I could have avoided some problems I had at the Hall." She gives a shrug. "All I know is that people end up hurt, and that lies, deceit and greed certainly aren't solving much. I don't lie. I've seen what lies can do up close and personal. I won't say anything if I have to lie. I will make the truth as palatable as possible, but I won't falsely flatter someone or lie. Honesty has always been the best way. Maybe not the nicest, but the best, and the truth wills out in the end, no matter how deeply it's hidden. It will come out sooner or later."
"It's all I know," E'sere admits, shifting slightly in the chair and looking abashed for that confession. "Watching Mother, Ganathon, the Weyrwoman Diya... I suppose it was inevitable I'd find myself caught up in it, too. I wish it were otherwise, but that's all the leadership of Pern knows, and if I wish to have some effect for good on the Weyr, the rest of the world, then I have to play by their rules as much as I can. But I don't have to like it, and I don't have to--to debase myself the way some of them do."
"No, you don't," Vanya agrees, "and although the only way to gain ground may be to play by their rules, you don't have to sink to any levels beyond those limits you set for yourself. I won't think less of you for that, E'sere, for playing by their rules. It may change what's seen here," and she touches his face with her fingertips, "but it doesn't have to change what's in here." Her hand rests over where his heart beats in his chest. "And, in the long run, it's what's in there that counts. I understand doing things because you /have/ to, but I also know it doesn't /have/ to change what's inside you. Most people let it change them, but that's a choice they make, not an absolute." She smiles, leaning forward this time to press her lips to his temple. "I'm not perfect, by the way. I have many faults, and they've gotten me into trouble, trust me. But I try to stay true to myself, to what's inside me."
E'sere inclines his head slightly for Vanya to kiss his temple, smiling faintly. "Very good advice," he agrees, reaching a hand up to rest over hers on his chest. He leans in again to find her lips with his, and afterward notes, a little reluctantly, "It's getting late, though. We should probably be getting to bed. Tomorrow... tomorrow will be long and busy, and we'll need our wits about us."
There's a part of Vanya reluctant to leave his lap, the comfort of his arms, but he's right. There's been enough for tonight, and she suddenly realizes just how tired she is. "You're right, of course," she admits, and takes a deep breath. "I feel sorry for your legs, supporting me all this time, but it was nice. Very nice. I'd forgotten what it was like to be held. Thank you for reminding me, even though I wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances." She makes the ultimate decision, untangling her fingers from his. "Go to bed, E'sere," she says, smiling as she begins to rise. "If you don't mind helping, I'll shove the two chairs together and be fine sleeping here. I'm used to infirmary chairs, and these are a lot more comfortable. I'll just need a pillow, if there's an extra."
"No, you'll not," E'sere says, his voice gentle but still firm as he watches her. "You are my guest, and I insist you have the bed. You need it more than I do, Vanya." He stands as well when she does, rubbing a hand idly across one leg before he reaches to slide it behind her waist to guide her to the bed if she declines again.
"But, I don't mind, really," Vanya protests, her wits back to normal. "You'll be facing every bit as much tomorrow as I will, probably more." All the time, she's being guided to the bed, and knows she's going to give in, mainly because she knows E'sere isn't going to take no for an answer. She sighs, coming up with one last argument. "Besides, I'm used to sleeping on long shifts, in uncomfortable chairs, you're not." By then, she's at the foot of the bed. "I do this under protest," she finally says, turning in his arm and facing him. "If you won't let me sleep in the chair, then at least share the bed, it's big enough for two." It's likely this is one of those things she doesn't realize may have implications of something else. "I won't mind, I'll probably be asleep by the time my head hits the pillow, and I sleep deeply. You won't disturb me."
Vanya's protests only result in a shake of E'sere's head, the bronzerider smiling softly as he leads her to the bed. At the foot, however, he stops, glancing at her and arching a brow slightly at her question. "Are you sure about that?" he asks her dubiously.
"We'll both be asleep, so I don't see the problem, really," Vanya says. "Besides, if you sleep in the chair, it's going to leave you stiff and sore, and I'll end up having to give you a massage. Not, mind you, I'd mind, but I'd rather not have it on my conscience it was my fault for your back hurting." She shakes her head. "No, like I said, I'll be asleep the moment my head hits the pillow." She smiles up at him. "You can't convince me that you'd relish a chair over your own bed. I won't crowd you, I promise."
"If you're sure, then," E'sere concedes at last, with a smile. "It's kind of you to offer, and you needn't worry about me. You won't bother me, I assure you. If you're comfortable, I will be, too."
"Then it's settled," Vanya says with a smile. "I just need to take off a few things, and I'll be perfectly comfortable." She starts by kicking off her shoes, first, then taking off the necklace and earrings, putting them in one of her shoes. The hair pins are next, hair tumbling down at last. The stomacher and overdress are likewise discarded, leaving her in the loose, lightweight under chemise. The dress is folded neatly and she moves back across the weyr to the chair, laying it over the back. Returning, she looks to E'sere. "Which side do you prefer? Where do you want me?"
E'sere simply watches Vanya for a time as she partially undresses, lips tilted in a half-smile. Her question arches a brow, and he answers, "Where do I want you. I... It doesn't matter to me. Anywhere you're most comfortable." He rolls his shoulders slightly and starts unbuttoning his own shirt, shrugging it off and, like Vanya, folding it neatly and putting it away.
Vanya nods, making a choice and moving to one side of the bed, sitting down. "Oh, this is nice," she says, looking up at him as he begins to disrobe. It's not a rude staring, and she will turn away when he removes the shirt, giving him privacy. Instead, she begins to braid her hair for the night. "I do warn you, my hair has a life of its own at night. I've had dreams where I thought I was being strangled only to find it was my hair wrapped around my neck. Without the overdress to hold it in place, one shoulder of the chemise slips down on one side, baring a shoulder. "And I don't snore, that I know of, at least. Of course, I've never slept with anyone, just in dorms and all. You learn to tune sounds out after a while."
E'sere doesn't seem remotely bothered by Vanya's watching, though her turning away results in a bemused smile. "And is it likely to attack me, too?" he asks her absently as he removes his shoes, and then belt, and then pants, too, not nearly so modest as Vanya. At least, however, he leaves underwear in place, for her sake. "It's been turns since I slept with people not of my own choosing. Not since weyrlinghood, and I had managed to wrangle a private room before that, so. But you won't bother me, still, I assure you. I've probably endured worse than you can do to me," he tells her wryly as he starts pulling back the covers on his side.
She turns back, then, noticing he's down to underwear, faintly blushes and keeps working on her hair. "I don't know, it might," she says, amusement in the tone. "Remember, a mind of its own. For all I know, it leaves my head and goes out carousing. From the tangles in the morning, even with it braided, it must be doing /something/!" She chuckles, finishes, though has no ribbon to fix the end. She leaves it loose, tossing it over her shoulder. Rising, she pulls down one side of the cover, climbs in, lying on her side. "I've rarely had a room of my own. When I was little, I shared with Rappa, or mother. Then, of course, there were no private rooms for apprentices at the Hall. Actually, my room here is the first time I've been truly alone at night to sleep. It was noisy in the dormitory here, but ... it's almost too quiet in my room. I can hear my own heartbeat it's so quiet."
"I always liked the quiet," confesses E'sere as he slides into the bed on his side, glancing sideways at Vanya. "It was a nice change to escape the dorms--something else to attribute to nepotism, I suppose, but." His shoulders lift slightly in an awkward shrug. "But it's still nice to have company, too, sometimes. I'm fortunate, I suppose: I've always got Morelenth here to talk to at night. Not everyone has that luxury."
Vanya rolls to her other side, facing him now that he's lying down. "That must be nice, to never be completely alone, to always know there's someone there in the dark, only a thought away if you need them. You're very fortunate for that. Being totally alone is nice sometimes, but other times, the dark gets very lonely," she tells him. "At night, in the hospital wards, you sit for hours doing nothing, reading or just ... thinking. A person can think too much, at times." Her voice is soft, almost whispering. "Morelenth won't mind me being here, will he? I mean, if he's used to having you to himself at night."
E'sere arches a brow at Vanya's question, himself sliding onto his side to observe her. One arm is stretched out under his pillow and the edge of hers to get more comfortable, the bronzerider settling in. "He won't," he reassures her. "He not the possessive sort. He never really minds sharing me; he's... he's used to it." He offers a wry smile at that confession, glancing downward away from her.
Vanya nods, her eyes a little sleepy, her voice a little lower as she relaxes. "That's good, him not minding." She lies there a moment, her own arms similarly aligned, one tucked childishly under her chin. "I take it you seldom lack for company at night, then? No, I suppose you wouldn't, being a bronzerider and charming to boot." So, she's not entirely without wits. It's obvious the riders seldom lack for willing partners, should they wish companionship.
E'sere hesitates a moment, then gives in with a soft smile. "Not if I'm looking," he confesses, "but don't take that to mean that every night I'm trolling the living cavern for someone, please. That's not me, all one-night-stands and a different girl every day."
Vanya nods, smiling a little. "I'm beginning to understand weyrlife a bit better now, and I've come to see what you meant by living life to the fullest because the day may be your last. After the 'fall, seeing all those riders hurt, their dragons hurting..." Her voice trails off in the darkness, then, "I can better see things now. I see why you all take other things either very seriously, or not seriously at all. It makes more sense to me. I can also see it's going to get harder and harder for me, especially the better I come to know you all." She looks across to him, eyes large and almost luminous in the darkness. "I was so afraid I'd see you or D'ven there, wounded or ..." No she won't say it. "It's hard on us down here, too." A whisper.
"I think," E'sere says slowly, "I'd rather be up there fighting it than down here waiting. It's a lot easier to be up there, doing and not thinking, than it is to do just the opposite of that on the ground. Morelenth and I have been very lucky, though--luckier than we deserve--in that we've only been hit once, and lightly at that. Morelenth caught a tangle across his muzzle over Nabol. There's been... There's been many that weren't so fortunate. M'tello, K'ret, P'tral," he names some of the dead.
And, in his own whisper: "Ganathon."
Vanya listens, wanting so much to reach out and offer comfort, uncertain if she should. "Ganathon? Wasn't he the older man who came in with the young woman? The one who accused everyone of letting this happen?" She seems to be replaying the night again. "I thought I heard him called G'thon...?" There's a few moments of silence, then her eyes widen perceptibly. "His ... dragon," she whispers, horror in the words. "Oh, poor man..."
"That's him," E'sere says simply, his frown sad, eyes averted from Vanya. "He was G'thon, when he was our Weyrleader."
Now she understands, and no longer hestitates, reaching out her hand and once more stroking his face, offering that bit of comfort. "We're tired, and that brings on melancholy sometimes. And, I'm keeping you awake, too. I'm sorry." Her hand continues the stroking, gentle, soothing, down his cheek, across his brow, long, smooth strokes of fingertips. "Thank you for talking, E'sere. It's helped me so much, your friendship has. Sleep now, and tomorrow will take care of itself."
"Good night, Vanya," E'sere murmurs as he leans forward to offer another kiss to her. And, when that's through, he turns back onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling as he seeks sleep. It's a long time coming.