Log: Forging A Family
Who: Hattie, Palia, P'draig, NPCs: Dharia, Dylan
When: Month 12, turn 24 of Interval 10.
Where: The Beach House, Ista Weyr
What: Hattie comes to dinner with Paddy and some of the kids and strings up a white flag for Palia.
It's really a shame about the weather. Really. Not all that auspicious for the family dinner P'draig has set up so that Palia, Dylan and Dharia at least can get to know Hattie. Still, the brownrider's pulled out all the stops with the cooking, putting together a meal that would probably sell well out in the restaurant proper, except that of course, this evening the Beach House is closed for business.
There's only so far that one can make it under the protection of a golden wing before defeat has to be admitted and running for the next bit of cover has to be done. Given the amount of rain bucketing from the skies, it's a miracle that Hattie didn't wind up on the porch soaked from head to toe, but she managed to somehow remain mostly presentable and merely looking a bit windswept around the edges. Of course, she pretends even that hasn't happened, along with determined denial of the stormy weather taking over the beach, it being, perhaps, the least of her worries.
Palia has been maintaining a vigil from said porch, keeping an eye out for the expected guest with an umbrella leaning against the railing alongside. She's hopped down in fact and is pattering over in bare feet to meet the arriving goldrider, but not quickly enough to spare her the raindrops. "Hi," the girl says simply as Hattie makes it up onto the porch and she tilts a look upward at Fort's Weyrwoman for a moment, assessing, before very politely offering: "Ista's duties to Fort and her queens." From inside, P'draig's voice rings out: "Come on in both of you. I've got a towel if you need it, Hattie." This amidst the sounds of clinking crockery and other dinner-related noises.
For just a moment, Hattie blinks down at Palia in silence, though that might be because she has to reach to drag a stray curl of hair out of her line of vision at the same time. "Hello," she replies, wry smile - likely for the state of her - tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Fort's duties to Ista," the Weyrwoman responds rather properly, further words forestalled by the sound of P'draig's voice, which has her looking up again and gesturing for Palia to go on in ahead of her. "A towel would be much appreciated," she has to admit, after she's headed on after.
Taking in that expression on the Weyrwoman's face, Palia suddenly grins and reaches out to take Hattie's hand. "Come in," the girl says simply. Once inside, Hattie'll find Paddy on his way over, a towel held in one hand. He's dressed up a little: nice shirt over lightweight trousers and must have changed out of whatever he cooked in. There's platters and dishes on the table, ready for passing and Dylan, nearly 6 is circling around the place-settings carefully laying a knife next to each plate while Dharia jumps on the couch. "Hey," Paddy greets and will lean in for a kiss as the Weyrwoman and his daughter come inside.
Hattie only releases Palia's hand when she has to reach for the towel, her head turning to let her return P'draig's kiss, though she does look rather uncertain about it, as though not entirely sure of the protocol for any sort of - however innocent - kisses in-front of children. "Evening," she greets. "I was far more presentable when I left. Promise," the goldrider jokes, reaching to unbutton her coat and reveal the blue dress beneath, nothing very refined about how she means to throw the towel over her head and peek out from beneath it as she tries to dry off her hair a little.
On the other hand, Paddy seems completely confident and at ease with kissing Hattie in front of the crew. Dharia doesn't stop jumping up and down in fact, somewhat oblivious it seems. Dylan's just finished with the cutlery and comes over, one chubby hand lifting to wave. "Hi!" he greets the goldrider. "That's pretty!" the boy states of Hattie's gown, pointing in fact. Palia stows the umbrella meanwhile and on her return leans against the back of one of the dining chairs. "This'll be your spot," she says with all the authority of being the eldest.
Pausing still in the process of drying her hair, Hattie chirps a, "Hello," back at Dylan, forgetting the towel entirely for a few moments, only to remember it and tug it down to sit on her shoulder. "Thank you," she replies, smiling faintly. "Got you charming people already, huh?" Tugged from her shoulder, she starts folding up the towel pretty precisely, gaze lifting to Palia, and she nods a few times in succession. "Thank you. Hopefully I won't go raining all over it now."
That remark earns a slightly puzzled look from Dylan, but he answers: "I like blue. It's my favoritest color," the boy claims while P'draig reaches out, seemingly to interrupt precise folding. "It's just going in the hamper," he tells the goldrider gently, with a little wink. Hattie's remark about raining earns her an outburst of laughter from Palia and Dylan. The sound makes Dharia stop jumping on the couch and she slides down off the cushions and comes over to see what's going on. "Papa? Dinner's ready?" she asks, reaching up to take his free hand and curling hers entirely around two of Paddy's fingers. "Yeah, it is," the brownrider confirms. "Everyone have a seat, apparently yours is already reserved, Hattie."
"I'll remember that," Hattie tells Dylan, quite clearly meaning it too and not merely humouring the boy. When it seems that folding would be interrupted, she opens her mouth to say something and, in the end, simply stops lining up sides and corners and looks prepared to relinquish the towel entirely instead. Dharia's journey is observed without it looking like a study, though then the Weyrwoman is moving forward to claim her seat, saying, "You know goldriders. We always do as we're told," as she settles down, though notably the knot is missing from her shoulder this evening.
P'draig gives Dharia's hand a squeeze and retreats to go toss the towel in the hamper while the kids move about the table to take their seats. Dharia tugs out her chair with determined fierceness and flops into it, while Dylan is much more careful. Palia is brisk in her movements, but as she settles into her seat, she picks up her napkin with a certain delicacy, like she paid attention in etiquette class. "Do you?" she asks promptly though, looking up at Hattie curiously. "I thought most of the Weyr had to do what you said?" she queries further while Dharia fidgets in her seat, feet kicking and Dylan tucks his napkin into his shirt collar. Paddy returns just then and pauses to rest his hands on Hattie's shoulders. "You guys aren't torturing our guest are you?" he jokes.
"That's true enough," Hattie answers Palia, bobbing her head a little. "But even goldriders were weyrlings once. And if I think something is really important to my Weyrleader and he asks me to do it, then I'll do it. It's as much about doing what people need you to do as it is about telling others what to do," she tries to explain, unfolding her napkin and setting it over her lap. She looks up when P'draig's hands touch her shoulders and ruefully admits, "They're not, but I might be about to bore them to sleep, so I won't be offended if anyone makes a run for it right now."
Head cocked to the side, Palia listens attentively to what Hattie has to say, while P'draig bends to kiss the top of the goldrider's head. "I don't think Palia's looking bored," he notes with a wink across the way at his daughter, then he steps around the table to make sure the other two kids are all set and everything's laid out on the table where it should be, before drawing back his own chair and sitting down. To their credit, the children are actually pretty well behaved. Dharia keeps squirming in her seat, but she doesn't grab for anything, waiting politely for the dishes to start passing. "So it's really kind of a back and forth," Palia remarks to Hattie, smoothing her napkin a bit more. "I wonder if all Weyrwomen do that though. I mean, listen to their Weyrleaders." She considers her empty plate for a moment, then looks up as Paddy lifts the first dish, mashed tubers and passes it to Hattie and then asks: "Pass the asparagus, Pali-girl, please?"
"I suppose, if they don't get on with them, then they might not," Hattie thinks aloud, careful to balance the dish passed her way and not focus entirely on it as she spoons some onto her plate. "Mine is my friend. Which," she has to admit, "makes it easier and more difficult. I technically don't have to listen to him. I choose to." She checks how she's got the dish balanced again before passing it along and offering it to Palia. "With everyone else... As long as they do what they're supposed to, then I can do what I'm meant to for them. Everyone needs to do their bit."
Picking up the platter of green spears, Palia passes those to Paddy, while Dylan just manages the bowl of tomato, basil and fresh white cheese salad at his elbow. Dharia picks up some bread from the bread basket and passes that, but will need help with the heavier dishes. "You're good friends with your Weyrleader? That must be nice. Why would it be harder?" Palia asks further as Paddy spoons asparagus onto his plate, then puts some on Dharia's as well. The brownrider looks up briefly, gaze sliding between Palia and Hattie, but he doesn't offer any commentary at the moment.
"Well... we're not always going to agree about everything and how certain things should be handled," Hattie says slowly. "So, sometimes we have to do things that we know might hurt each other or make each other angry. And then you have to hope that you'll forgive each other." She blinks back to focus properly, having gone a little distant there, and claims the bread basket with a murmur of thanks before passing it on. "You have to think about when you're going to be friends and when you're going to be Weyrleaders. If you're lucky, then you don't have to make the distinction all that often."
"Why wouldn't you forgive a friend?" is Palia's next question after she's served herself from the tuber dish. The asparagus makes its way around to Hattie and the piece de resistance is finely sliced roasted herdbeast, ranging from rare to mid-rare and flavorfully herbed. There's a sauce to go with it and over vegetables too. "That sounds complicated," Palia concludes as she finishes filling up her plate. "I don't think I want to be a Weyrleader," is Dylan's contribution, looking over at Hattie round-eyed. Paddy's head ducks and he chuckles quietly, looks back up again. "Mm. It's a big responsibility Dylan. And if you really don't want it, the chances of it coming your way are actually pretty slim. Only bronzeriders can be Weyrleader."
"If they do something that you can't make peace with... then it could be more difficult than it sounds," Hattie quietly answers Palia, occupying herself with arranging things on her plate and setting dishes back down so as not to let them thump down to the tabletop or become unbalanced between one set of hands and the next. "It is complicated," she agrees, making no effort to deny it. She looks back up and over at Dylan, smiling slightly before she assures, "It's not scary. It's a lot of work and it /is/ a big responsibility, but, if it happens to you, then I think it must be because you can deal with it."
Palia's brows knit a little, like she's processing what Hattie just said while she stirs butter into her tubers and then puts some gravy on top and licks her fork. Paddy helps Dharia and Dylan to finish up their plates, cuts the littlest girl's meat for her. "Oh. Well, you know, I still don't think I want that job," Dylan pipes up with. "I wanna be a smith!" And he flexes his arms a little, drawing laughter from Dharia and Paddy at least. Palia grins a little but she's still thinking, clearly, poking at her tubers with her fork again.
Aside from a sidelong glance at Palia, Hattie doesn't address anything else her way for the time being, studying her food for a couple of breaths instead, like it has to be cut up ridiculously neatly. It gives her enough time to gather herself to look up again and over at Dylan once more, fork halfway to her mouth. "I don't know of any Weyrleaders who want to give up their jobs right now, so I think you're safe," the goldrider declares, pausing only to make sure that she doesn't speak with her mouth full. "Why do you want to be a Smith?" she asks, tilting her head a bit.
For now, Palia doesn't seem to have any other questions or remarks, focusing on eating, though she still has that thoughtful look on her face. "Because you get to bang on metal and get really strong!" Dylan says enthusiastically. Ah the logic of 6 turn olds. Paddy grins between bites of food. "My Papa was a Smith before he impressed and one of my sisters is as well, Dylan's aunt, Ilyandra. So it's one of those things that probably runs in the family. I thought about going into that craft as well before I decided on bakers instead."
"I guess those are good enough reasons as any," Hattie responds, looking quite like she doesn't know whether to let herself smile or not. She glances across at P'draig, fork midair again - though now empty - and has to remember to set it back down instead of sticking frozen like that. "I don't think I can think of anything that runs in my family," she replies thoughtfully. "They don't have crafts. I'm the only rider for the last few generations. Who knows what Gethin and the girls will get from my lot."
Apparently, grinning or even laughing is okay, because Paddy sure is. "Really? No crafters at all?" Palia and Dylan ask that at roughly the same time, looking quite surprised. "Not everyone's family is littered with craft-talents," Paddy tells them gently. "Hattie's family are holders at Ruatha River." Palia blinks a few times as that registers. Clearly they haven't studied Fort's leadership as closely as they have Ista's yet in her classes. "Wait ... you're blooded?" she asks Hattie, quite directly and Paddy's foot likely nudges his daughter under the table.
Hattie shakes her head, clearly not unsettled by the question, save for its almost in unison delivery. "No," she confirms. "One of my brothers took lessons at the Harper Hall for a while, but he was never going to be a proper Harper. Given their situation, it's probably best that there are no crafters, because they couldn't really... follow it." The directness of Palia's enquiry doesn't seem to affect her either and she simply inclines her head. "Yes," she tells her. "I was the eldest daughter before the hold passed to my generation. My sister is holder now."
Palia's cheek comes to rest on her free hand, the other one is still twirling her fork through her tubers idly. "So you would've been holder if you hadn't impressed?" Dylan picks up his own cutlery to start eating. "Wow, it must be weird not to have any crafters around," is his take on things, but then he's got them on both sides. Paddy supplies: "Different families have different people in them, different traditions, Dyl. What might seem normal to you, won't always seem so to others."
Hattie takes a deep breath, as though she's thinking of a number of different ways to supply a simple, "No. The hold was never going to pass to me," with what sounds like detachment from that situation, though not the question put her way. "It isn't as if there weren't any crafters at the hold at all," she goes on. "Just not in the family. It was never put to us that it might be okay for us to be crafters. Most of my siblings are married now and I suppose that's their focus."
The tone of Hattie's voice draws P'draig's gaze her way, though his mouth is full of food, so he doesn't say anything. At the mention of the word 'married' all three of the kids screw up their faces and go 'ewwwwwww' in chorus. "I'm never getting married," Palia says firmly. "I'm going to run the Beach House someday, just like Papa. And maybe I'll let a boy live here sometimes." Pause. "Maybe. If I find one I like enough to let him stick around." Paddy's elbow thunks to the table, forehead resting in his hand, shoulders shaking silently.
"I made sure that I wasn't getting married either," Hattie declares with a quick shake of her head. "Unless it was my choice and on my terms. But that was nearly ten turns ago now." Glancing over at P'draig, she points her fork his way and insists, "I don't know what you're finding so funny," despite the fact that she's smirking herself. "She's got the right idea. You let boys stick around if you like them enough and you make sure they know that you're letting them." And then it's probably just as well that she looks away from him.
"Don't most holders have to get married?" Palia asks curiously, not twirling her tubers anymore, but actually putting a bite together to eat. Paddy peeks up through his fingers at Hattie, smiles sunnily at her and pops a bite of asparagus into his mouth. Her last promptly makes him choke on that bite as a sudden burst of laughter leads to food and wrong pipe. The kids? Are listening /raptly/ to this entire speech.
Hattie doesn't curse, but she does make a vaguely alarmed noise and mutter something right when there're sounds of choking from P'draig, her gaze seeking him out again. "...You okay?" she asks somewhat tentatively, yet she makes to answer Palia whilst she waits for a response. "Most of them, yes," she confirms. "But a lot of them don't get a choice about who it is. I didn't want to be married to someone I didn't like or would order me around and I was lucky my father didn't ever put his foot down."
Thumping at his own chest, Paddy's eyes water a bit, but he nods. "Yeah, wrong pipe is all," he answer in none-too-steady a voice though it seems to be suppressed laughter causing it, nothing worse. "Yeah, wouldn't want to be pushed into anything like that," he agrees and there's a chorus of agreement around the table. Putting his fork down, the brownrider reaches across the table to rest a hand on Hattie's wrist. "And lucky for us, he didn't do that," he says quietly.
"Yes," Hattie agrees in a low voice, setting a utensil down to briefly cover P'draig's hand with one of her own. "Lucky the silly man didn't do that." Her smile is more accepting than bright when she says, "But some of them are perfectly happy and don't think to question it," to everybody. "It doesn't mean that all holders are unhappy. If you don't love somebody straight away, it doesn't mean that you never will." Her shoulders straighten a little and she takes in a deep breath. "But we're not holders and nor are my kids and I'm glad of it."
A little frown dents Palia's brows as she takes in what Hattie says. Dharia's lost interest now and is busily cleaning her plate of all remaining food. Paddy smiles at Hattie, aims to draw her hand up to his lips to kiss it gently. "All reasons to be glad in general," he says fervently and changes the subject. "So, anyone got any favorite stories they want to read tonight?" Dharia and Dylan have immediate suggestions, Palia's still thinking. Again.
Somehow, Hattie manages to clear her plate in the next few moments without making it look like an impolite shovelling affair, and neatly lines up her cutlery. After a quick glance Palia's way, she suggests, "Since it's not raining beneath the porch and it's not terribly cold, maybe we could go and read out there while your brother and sister have their stories?" without focusing too much attention on her.
A chorus of requests rises from the two younger children. "Okay kids, finish up then and clear your plates," Paddy says lightly, still with some food on his own plate which he finishes off in relaxed fashion. Palia re-focuses on Hattie, seems to consider for a moment, head cocked to the side. Then: "Sure. I'll bring my book." The girl slides from her seat and picks up her plate, disappears briefly into the kitchen and returns to pad barefoot across the dining area through the living area to her room. When she returns, she has a large book tucked under one arm and she waits politely by the door out to the porch for the goldrider.
Hattie watches Palia head off as though not really expecting her to return, though rises the moment she does and carefully tucks her chair back under the table. "See you in a bit," she murmurs to P'draig, then heads off after Palia, stopping along the way to reclaim the bag she left out of the way close to the door. Opening said door, she gestures for her to go on ahead before she follows after, mindful not to let it slam behind them whilst she waits for her to pick somewhere to sit.
Paddy shoots an encouraging little smile upward at Hattie, blue-gray eyes tracking Palia to the door, then shifting to the other two kids as he directs cleanup. From the porch the sounds of clinking cutlery against plates ring out for a bit, then quiet down, only to be replaced by mock-roars as P'draig chases his son and daughter around the living room and on through to the porch for bath time. Enthusiastic splashing echoes for a little bit thereafter. Palia meanwhile heads for the porch swing and tucks herself up in one corner with the book resting across her knees. The girl's gaze slips off toward the sea where the sun's light is rapidly fading from the curling tops of the waves. "I love living here," she says suddenly.
The other corner of the swing seems safe enough, so Hattie opts to park herself there, bag set down actually on her feet. For a few seconds, she pretends she hasn't heard anything and simply gazes at the ocean herself, to eventually say, "I used to live by the sea. I miss it." That's not all she's got though, and she states, "You think I'm going to make you move to Fort," still watching the water. Whether it's true or not, she insists, "I can disabuse you of that notion right away. The fact is, I'm not."
"What do you miss --" Palia starts, stops as she looks over at Hattie suddenly and draws a sharp breath. The girl's knees tuck upward toward her chest, the book sliding along with them. She frowns down at her toes, curling and uncurling them against the edge of the swing. Finally: "Yes," Palia answers and slides a look over at Hattie once more. "I was born there. Maybe I should think of Fort more like home, but I don't." Her chin lifts a little and there's a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Here is."
"What would I possibly have to gain by uprooting you?" Hattie questions, levelling an even gaze across the space between herself and Palia. "I would see your father more often, certainly. Gethin would see more of you all. Otherwise?" She lifts one shoulder and looks back out across the beach. "You would hate me. Maybe more than you've decided that you do already. Your father couldn't run a business that he loves. I'd be in a relationship with one of my subordinates. I can't leave Fort - it's /my/ Weyr, that's true. But it doesn't mean that I have any desire to make you leave your home."
Palia's eyes widen as Hattie drops the word 'hate' into the equation and she shifts, pushing the book off of her knees, bends to drop it lightly to the floor beneath the swing, then edges cautiously toward Hattie. "I don't hate you," she says with a vehement shake of her head then looks down at her own knees, skirt caught between them and fidgets with the hem. "I'm -- I'm scared," she finally says very softly, not quiet whisper.
Despite the considerable amount of control that Hattie must be exerting over herself, she still somehow looks vaguely surprised at the news that she's not hated. Her head turns and she looks down at Palia when she edges over and continues to even when she's stopped and started examining her hem. Taking a deep breath, she states, "So am I," not quietly and like it's a fact, not an admittance of anything at all. "I'm not here to take your father away from you. If it's me you're scared of, then I think we have a problem."
Palia's head starts shaking again, curls catching at the back of her dress. "No. I'm scared you'll leave him too. Leave us." Palia's fingers stop plucking and she peeks up at Hattie through her bangs, expression rather intense for a kid her age. "That he'll be all sad again." She puffs out a breath and leans back against the swing, looking up at the porch rafters. The bath's gone quiet: Dylan and Dharia must be getting their pajamas on and getting their stories. "And ... yeah. I thought you'd want us to come back to Fort. Make us give up the restaurant. But you know we can't, right?" That last is spoken almost like a business-woman would, the manner clearly borrowed from somewhere, likely someone the girl's observed.
Hattie nudges her bag away and off her feet, slips her shoes off and turns to sit sideways with her legs tucked up under her skirts. "...Look, I'm not going to treat you like a child, so..." Yet she does stop to order her words, if not censor herself. "I can't promise that everything will always be perfect. I love your father more than is probably sensible for a woman in my position - and, for Faranth's sake, don't go telling him that - but I'm human and so is he and to make that promise would be the same as lying to you. I don't intend to leave him. That's all I can say and still be honest." She looks down into her lap and shakes her head slightly. "I can't leave Fort. How can I ask you to do something that I can't?"
Silence greets most of what Hattie's said but after a moment, Palia suddenly edges closer and tentatively reaches out with one hand for Hattie's. "Okay," is all the girl says in the end, looking up at Hattie again very seriously. Her tone indicates acceptance, though there's clearly not trust yet. The jury's still out, basically, but a chance has been extended.
Carefully, Hattie reaches back and takes Palia's hand in hers, though with the other she reaches down to scrabble about in her bag and draw out a small, bound book. "The thing is, I could sit here and tell you that I'm a good person and say everything that you'd expect me to. That wouldn't make any of it true either," she says quietly. "So," the goldrider goes on, offering over the book, "this is yours to read if you want to. It was my journal when I was a weyrling. It's not got anything you shouldn't know in it and it's not got any sappy poetry. But, if you want to understand me... it's probably your best bet."
Small fingers close around bigger ones and squeeze gently. That book though as it's brought out makes Palia's eyes go wide with surprise. "Really?" she breathes out, eyes blinking rapidly and for a few moments she's quite speechless. Eventually though she reaches out to take the offered book with reverent hands and looks down at the cover, one finger smoothing over it. "I'm ... I'm not sure if I should. This is your private stuff ..."
"It's true that nobody else has read it," Hattie replies, inclining her head slightly. "Given that I was a weyrling, a lot of it is about Elaruth and will probably bore you to tears," she jokes quietly. "I'm not a terribly open person. Anything that I didn't want anyone ever finding out ever simply just isn't written down, but the rest might be enough to understand why I'm like I am. If I was concerned about you reading it, then I wouldn't have offered it." Exhaling slowly, she adds, "Or if I didn't intend on sticking around."
Palia's hand stills and her palm rests on top of the book. The girl's nails are short, but one nail has been fancifully painted blue. Gray eyes slowly lift to find Hattie's brown ones and she nods once, expression solemn. "I'll be very careful with this. I -- I don't know if I'll read it. But I'll let you know if I do," the girl decides, then she folds the volume into her lap and after a moment's hesitation lifts her arms to offer Hattie a hug. "It ... it'd be nice to have someone ... like a mother." That last is said very, very carefully.
"I know you will be," the goldrider says quietly. "Even if you don't read it, I just wanted you to have it. Use it as leverage if you ever want the last of the ice-cream or something," Hattie goes on, smiling faintly as she leans a little closer to gently wrap her arms around Palia. "...I'm not going to assume anything, you know. If I overstep, then put me back in my place. But I would like for you to be like one of mine one day... If you want to be." After a moment more, she draws back and laughs quietly, nodding towards the abandoned book on the floor. "So, what're we going to say we've been reading out here?"
It's likely that some of what Hattie just said goes over Palia's head. The girl leans in a little to make that a proper enough hug, though it's not enthusiastic. It's not until the goldrider makes that claim about wanting Palia to be like her own some day that the child's arms suddenly tighten and she hides her face in Hattie's shoulder, a small sound squeaking from her throat, halfway between caught breath and a whimper. In that moment before Hattie draws away to make light, she might feel a touch of dampness to her sleeve. When the goldrider draws back and makes light, Palia keeps her head down, turning a bit to reach for the book, though one hand makes a telltale gesture across her eyes, poorly masked as pushing her hair back behind her ear. "Tales of Ista," Palia announces. "They're from all over the island. Papa and I are on the one about the fishermen and the three fish," she describes and hauls the volume up from its spot on the ground, offering it over to Hattie with her face still somewhat averted and a faint tremor in her voice.
Given her own attitude to being caught in any state of tears, Hattie doesn't try to make a big deal of catching Palia out, choosing to focus on the book when it's offered to her, a few moments taken to examine it and find the start of the right story, clearly hoping to be redirected to the right bit shortly. However, once she's found that page, she doesn't pretend anymore and shifts to make room for Palia in her corner of the swing, arm lifting like she'd tuck it securely around her if she moves. "Come here," she says quietly. "I've got to get hugs in before you're too old and get embarrassed about them."
"Here," Palia flips over one more and tucks right in under Hattie's arm, head tilting to rest against the goldrider and her finger points to the beginning. "Why would anybody be embarrassed by hugs?" is a question perhaps more fitting of P'draig's daughter.
"Maybe you won't be," Hattie ponders quietly. "We'll see. Some people think they make them look vulnerable. Some don't like admitting they were ever affectionate with their family. I'm not sure," she says, evidently having taken the question as a serious enquiry. "Probably best not to think about it." Her arm tucks a little more around Palia, the other used to prop and balance the book in such a way that the text can be seen by both and, after she locates the line pointed to, she starts to read on, making sure her voice is just loud enough to be heard above the falling rain.
Palia's assessment: "That's weird." And she snuggles a little bit closer, piping down in the interests of listening, though she's also following along with the words, well able to read for herself of course. It's been quiet indoors for a while, Paddy giving the two of them space after tucking the younger kids in for the night. He's been busy with the dishes in between and peeks outside to check on the pair, though there's no one to catch the relief on his face as he watches Palia settle in so comfortably with Hattie. He waits a bit longer before coming out onto the porch with mugs of cider and ginger-spiced cookies to share. "Hey there, I've got dessert if you can give the book a little bit of a rest?"
It's pretty good timing - pretty good in that there's only half of the last line of the tale to go when P'draig steps out onto the porch. Hattie stops midsentence and looks up, claiming, "You know that it's entirely unfair to present a choice between dessert and a book," and flashing a smirk before she makes a point of going back to the beginning of the last line and reading the whole thing. At its conclusion, she asks Palia, "What do you think? Dessert or book?" seemingly very seriously, and it would be, were it not for the smile in her eyes.
P'draig just grins and moves toward the swing to set the tray down on the nearest side table. Palia makes big round eyes at her father and makes a shushing kind of motion, grinning at what Hattie says, then makes much of listening very attentively when she goes back to that line. The girl's head tilts to the side and she reaches over to flip the next page like 'book' is the definite choice here. "The next one looks pretty good, but it's /Papa's/ cookies," she says very very seriously in turn. No really. Only she's caught on and the corners of her mouth are threatening to break into a new smile. Paddy? He just settles down into the lounge chair nearby and makes much of taking a mug and a cookie and munching on the latter.
"All right, now he's taunting us," Hattie claims, carefully closing the book and making to sit up a little more and ease out of the corner of the swing. She lets Palia escape the gravity of the corner first, then swings her feet to the floor and sets the book down on the ground, telling P'draig, "No book for you," very sternly, like it's a threat. Not that that stops her from reaching for a mug. Or a cookie. She blinks at both, as though she can't decide where to start, only to opt for the latter.
Giggling now, Palia slips out of the swing and patters over to get a mug and two cookies and trades her original seat for a new one in her father's lap. Paddy hastens to sit up a little, swings his mug out of the way so there's no mishaps with hot liquid. "Good story?" he asks mildly, mug set down out of the way and his arm folding around Palia. "And I'll just have to make do with the summary version," Paddy tells Hattie with a grin.
Leaning back, Hattie tucks her feet back up and beneath the skirts of her dress, carefully balancing her mug in her lap whilst she continues to munch on the cookie and so only sends a smirk P'draig's way for the next little while. "I suppose you will," she says eventually, though she casts a glance out across the beach again, uttering, "This rain really isn't going to let up any time soon, is it?"
P'draig's cookie disappears down the hatch and he reaches around with his free hand to reclaim his mug, takes a sip and squints outside at the downpour. "Nope, probably not. Looks like you're stuck here unless you want to get soaked again," he notes with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Palia claps a hand to her mouth and turns to butt her head into Paddy's chest as she swallows her last bite of cookie, then pokes her father in the stomach with an impertinent finger. "/Papa/. Sometimes you're /awful/," she says with a little sniff, then sits up, both hands cradling her mug for a long drink. "More seriously," Paddy says, clearing his throat, "please do stay, Hattie?" Mouth full, Palia just nods along with the request.
Hattie does not choke. She merely suddenly needs a drink and her cider is right there to be gulped down, regardless of temperature. "Seeing as," she finally manages, once she surfaces again, "Elaruth has abandoned me to go and keep an eye on Yshtiath, it looks like I really am stuck here." Not that she looks awfully upset about the whole thing. "So, in the interest of not getting soaked and not upsetting my queen, I would like to stay. Thank you," she addresses to both Palia and P'draig. She bends to reclaim the book from the floor, admitting, "And now I'm worried about this being forgotten and rained on overnight," with a rueful smile.
Still in place is Paddy's grin when Hattie resurfaces and the look he shoots her over his daughter's head is only allowable because Palia can't see it. "I'd say I'll make up the couch, but I'm pretty sure everyone sitting here knows where you're sleeping tonight." So saying, Paddy finishes off his cider and sets the mug aside in favor of wrapping his arms around Palia. "And you Pali-girl, should go get into your pajamas. I'll come tuck you in in a minute okay?" There's no protests from the girl, just a little eye roll before she turns to hug Paddy back. Released, she slides out of his lap and leaves her mug on the table, but steals two cookies for the road, with a cheeky grin. Her feet patter away inside, leaving the brownrider behind in a silence broken only by the drumming of rain on the roof. He waits a moment before asking quietly: "You okay?"
Clearly still not used to any sort of openness in front of children, Hattie conveniently hides behind her mug again until she can manage a quiet, "Goodnight, Palia," as she heads on inside. Shortly after, she leans forward, resting elbows on her knees, which is probably an interesting view in that dress, not that it seems intentional. The Weyrwoman nods a few times in silence, then says softly, "Like I said - she thought I was going to make you move to Fort. Or leave you. Once we got that sorted out... some things were easier."
The rain continues to fall and Paddy sits in silence, digesting for a moment, though his gaze does flicker to that very interesting view for the space of a heartbeart or three then nods and pushes to his feet. "Glad you were able to sort it out. I'll make sure to keep reassuring about the moving part. And the leaving bit ... well there's some things I should probably tell you that will help with that too. Otherwise, it's just going to take time and building trust." Both of his hands are held out to Hattie. "Come tuck her in with me? And then, my love, I think /you/ need a little tucking in of your own."
For once, Hattie doesn't make demands about needing to know things /right now/ and she quietly voices the assumed, "Not tonight," with a little shake of her head. Rising to her feet, she tucks the abandoned storybook under one arm before reaching back for P'draig's hands with her own. "She's going to think the two of us is overkill," she jokes gently, making to head on inside despite the tease. "Come on, or I might just stay up and read all night..." she threatens, smirking again.
"No, not tonight," P'draig agrees, hands closing around Hattie's and his smile grows briefly wider, though it's quality is soft. "Hopefully in a good way," the brownrider says of tucking in Palia with him and presses a kiss to the back of one of Hattie's hands, before curling an arm around her to walk back inside where there's a little girl to tuck in, lights to dim and then stories of a more grownup persuasion to tell ... all night long.
When: Month 12, turn 24 of Interval 10.
Where: The Beach House, Ista Weyr
What: Hattie comes to dinner with Paddy and some of the kids and strings up a white flag for Palia.
It's really a shame about the weather. Really. Not all that auspicious for the family dinner P'draig has set up so that Palia, Dylan and Dharia at least can get to know Hattie. Still, the brownrider's pulled out all the stops with the cooking, putting together a meal that would probably sell well out in the restaurant proper, except that of course, this evening the Beach House is closed for business.
There's only so far that one can make it under the protection of a golden wing before defeat has to be admitted and running for the next bit of cover has to be done. Given the amount of rain bucketing from the skies, it's a miracle that Hattie didn't wind up on the porch soaked from head to toe, but she managed to somehow remain mostly presentable and merely looking a bit windswept around the edges. Of course, she pretends even that hasn't happened, along with determined denial of the stormy weather taking over the beach, it being, perhaps, the least of her worries.
Palia has been maintaining a vigil from said porch, keeping an eye out for the expected guest with an umbrella leaning against the railing alongside. She's hopped down in fact and is pattering over in bare feet to meet the arriving goldrider, but not quickly enough to spare her the raindrops. "Hi," the girl says simply as Hattie makes it up onto the porch and she tilts a look upward at Fort's Weyrwoman for a moment, assessing, before very politely offering: "Ista's duties to Fort and her queens." From inside, P'draig's voice rings out: "Come on in both of you. I've got a towel if you need it, Hattie." This amidst the sounds of clinking crockery and other dinner-related noises.
For just a moment, Hattie blinks down at Palia in silence, though that might be because she has to reach to drag a stray curl of hair out of her line of vision at the same time. "Hello," she replies, wry smile - likely for the state of her - tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Fort's duties to Ista," the Weyrwoman responds rather properly, further words forestalled by the sound of P'draig's voice, which has her looking up again and gesturing for Palia to go on in ahead of her. "A towel would be much appreciated," she has to admit, after she's headed on after.
Taking in that expression on the Weyrwoman's face, Palia suddenly grins and reaches out to take Hattie's hand. "Come in," the girl says simply. Once inside, Hattie'll find Paddy on his way over, a towel held in one hand. He's dressed up a little: nice shirt over lightweight trousers and must have changed out of whatever he cooked in. There's platters and dishes on the table, ready for passing and Dylan, nearly 6 is circling around the place-settings carefully laying a knife next to each plate while Dharia jumps on the couch. "Hey," Paddy greets and will lean in for a kiss as the Weyrwoman and his daughter come inside.
Hattie only releases Palia's hand when she has to reach for the towel, her head turning to let her return P'draig's kiss, though she does look rather uncertain about it, as though not entirely sure of the protocol for any sort of - however innocent - kisses in-front of children. "Evening," she greets. "I was far more presentable when I left. Promise," the goldrider jokes, reaching to unbutton her coat and reveal the blue dress beneath, nothing very refined about how she means to throw the towel over her head and peek out from beneath it as she tries to dry off her hair a little.
On the other hand, Paddy seems completely confident and at ease with kissing Hattie in front of the crew. Dharia doesn't stop jumping up and down in fact, somewhat oblivious it seems. Dylan's just finished with the cutlery and comes over, one chubby hand lifting to wave. "Hi!" he greets the goldrider. "That's pretty!" the boy states of Hattie's gown, pointing in fact. Palia stows the umbrella meanwhile and on her return leans against the back of one of the dining chairs. "This'll be your spot," she says with all the authority of being the eldest.
Pausing still in the process of drying her hair, Hattie chirps a, "Hello," back at Dylan, forgetting the towel entirely for a few moments, only to remember it and tug it down to sit on her shoulder. "Thank you," she replies, smiling faintly. "Got you charming people already, huh?" Tugged from her shoulder, she starts folding up the towel pretty precisely, gaze lifting to Palia, and she nods a few times in succession. "Thank you. Hopefully I won't go raining all over it now."
That remark earns a slightly puzzled look from Dylan, but he answers: "I like blue. It's my favoritest color," the boy claims while P'draig reaches out, seemingly to interrupt precise folding. "It's just going in the hamper," he tells the goldrider gently, with a little wink. Hattie's remark about raining earns her an outburst of laughter from Palia and Dylan. The sound makes Dharia stop jumping on the couch and she slides down off the cushions and comes over to see what's going on. "Papa? Dinner's ready?" she asks, reaching up to take his free hand and curling hers entirely around two of Paddy's fingers. "Yeah, it is," the brownrider confirms. "Everyone have a seat, apparently yours is already reserved, Hattie."
"I'll remember that," Hattie tells Dylan, quite clearly meaning it too and not merely humouring the boy. When it seems that folding would be interrupted, she opens her mouth to say something and, in the end, simply stops lining up sides and corners and looks prepared to relinquish the towel entirely instead. Dharia's journey is observed without it looking like a study, though then the Weyrwoman is moving forward to claim her seat, saying, "You know goldriders. We always do as we're told," as she settles down, though notably the knot is missing from her shoulder this evening.
P'draig gives Dharia's hand a squeeze and retreats to go toss the towel in the hamper while the kids move about the table to take their seats. Dharia tugs out her chair with determined fierceness and flops into it, while Dylan is much more careful. Palia is brisk in her movements, but as she settles into her seat, she picks up her napkin with a certain delicacy, like she paid attention in etiquette class. "Do you?" she asks promptly though, looking up at Hattie curiously. "I thought most of the Weyr had to do what you said?" she queries further while Dharia fidgets in her seat, feet kicking and Dylan tucks his napkin into his shirt collar. Paddy returns just then and pauses to rest his hands on Hattie's shoulders. "You guys aren't torturing our guest are you?" he jokes.
"That's true enough," Hattie answers Palia, bobbing her head a little. "But even goldriders were weyrlings once. And if I think something is really important to my Weyrleader and he asks me to do it, then I'll do it. It's as much about doing what people need you to do as it is about telling others what to do," she tries to explain, unfolding her napkin and setting it over her lap. She looks up when P'draig's hands touch her shoulders and ruefully admits, "They're not, but I might be about to bore them to sleep, so I won't be offended if anyone makes a run for it right now."
Head cocked to the side, Palia listens attentively to what Hattie has to say, while P'draig bends to kiss the top of the goldrider's head. "I don't think Palia's looking bored," he notes with a wink across the way at his daughter, then he steps around the table to make sure the other two kids are all set and everything's laid out on the table where it should be, before drawing back his own chair and sitting down. To their credit, the children are actually pretty well behaved. Dharia keeps squirming in her seat, but she doesn't grab for anything, waiting politely for the dishes to start passing. "So it's really kind of a back and forth," Palia remarks to Hattie, smoothing her napkin a bit more. "I wonder if all Weyrwomen do that though. I mean, listen to their Weyrleaders." She considers her empty plate for a moment, then looks up as Paddy lifts the first dish, mashed tubers and passes it to Hattie and then asks: "Pass the asparagus, Pali-girl, please?"
"I suppose, if they don't get on with them, then they might not," Hattie thinks aloud, careful to balance the dish passed her way and not focus entirely on it as she spoons some onto her plate. "Mine is my friend. Which," she has to admit, "makes it easier and more difficult. I technically don't have to listen to him. I choose to." She checks how she's got the dish balanced again before passing it along and offering it to Palia. "With everyone else... As long as they do what they're supposed to, then I can do what I'm meant to for them. Everyone needs to do their bit."
Picking up the platter of green spears, Palia passes those to Paddy, while Dylan just manages the bowl of tomato, basil and fresh white cheese salad at his elbow. Dharia picks up some bread from the bread basket and passes that, but will need help with the heavier dishes. "You're good friends with your Weyrleader? That must be nice. Why would it be harder?" Palia asks further as Paddy spoons asparagus onto his plate, then puts some on Dharia's as well. The brownrider looks up briefly, gaze sliding between Palia and Hattie, but he doesn't offer any commentary at the moment.
"Well... we're not always going to agree about everything and how certain things should be handled," Hattie says slowly. "So, sometimes we have to do things that we know might hurt each other or make each other angry. And then you have to hope that you'll forgive each other." She blinks back to focus properly, having gone a little distant there, and claims the bread basket with a murmur of thanks before passing it on. "You have to think about when you're going to be friends and when you're going to be Weyrleaders. If you're lucky, then you don't have to make the distinction all that often."
"Why wouldn't you forgive a friend?" is Palia's next question after she's served herself from the tuber dish. The asparagus makes its way around to Hattie and the piece de resistance is finely sliced roasted herdbeast, ranging from rare to mid-rare and flavorfully herbed. There's a sauce to go with it and over vegetables too. "That sounds complicated," Palia concludes as she finishes filling up her plate. "I don't think I want to be a Weyrleader," is Dylan's contribution, looking over at Hattie round-eyed. Paddy's head ducks and he chuckles quietly, looks back up again. "Mm. It's a big responsibility Dylan. And if you really don't want it, the chances of it coming your way are actually pretty slim. Only bronzeriders can be Weyrleader."
"If they do something that you can't make peace with... then it could be more difficult than it sounds," Hattie quietly answers Palia, occupying herself with arranging things on her plate and setting dishes back down so as not to let them thump down to the tabletop or become unbalanced between one set of hands and the next. "It is complicated," she agrees, making no effort to deny it. She looks back up and over at Dylan, smiling slightly before she assures, "It's not scary. It's a lot of work and it /is/ a big responsibility, but, if it happens to you, then I think it must be because you can deal with it."
Palia's brows knit a little, like she's processing what Hattie just said while she stirs butter into her tubers and then puts some gravy on top and licks her fork. Paddy helps Dharia and Dylan to finish up their plates, cuts the littlest girl's meat for her. "Oh. Well, you know, I still don't think I want that job," Dylan pipes up with. "I wanna be a smith!" And he flexes his arms a little, drawing laughter from Dharia and Paddy at least. Palia grins a little but she's still thinking, clearly, poking at her tubers with her fork again.
Aside from a sidelong glance at Palia, Hattie doesn't address anything else her way for the time being, studying her food for a couple of breaths instead, like it has to be cut up ridiculously neatly. It gives her enough time to gather herself to look up again and over at Dylan once more, fork halfway to her mouth. "I don't know of any Weyrleaders who want to give up their jobs right now, so I think you're safe," the goldrider declares, pausing only to make sure that she doesn't speak with her mouth full. "Why do you want to be a Smith?" she asks, tilting her head a bit.
For now, Palia doesn't seem to have any other questions or remarks, focusing on eating, though she still has that thoughtful look on her face. "Because you get to bang on metal and get really strong!" Dylan says enthusiastically. Ah the logic of 6 turn olds. Paddy grins between bites of food. "My Papa was a Smith before he impressed and one of my sisters is as well, Dylan's aunt, Ilyandra. So it's one of those things that probably runs in the family. I thought about going into that craft as well before I decided on bakers instead."
"I guess those are good enough reasons as any," Hattie responds, looking quite like she doesn't know whether to let herself smile or not. She glances across at P'draig, fork midair again - though now empty - and has to remember to set it back down instead of sticking frozen like that. "I don't think I can think of anything that runs in my family," she replies thoughtfully. "They don't have crafts. I'm the only rider for the last few generations. Who knows what Gethin and the girls will get from my lot."
Apparently, grinning or even laughing is okay, because Paddy sure is. "Really? No crafters at all?" Palia and Dylan ask that at roughly the same time, looking quite surprised. "Not everyone's family is littered with craft-talents," Paddy tells them gently. "Hattie's family are holders at Ruatha River." Palia blinks a few times as that registers. Clearly they haven't studied Fort's leadership as closely as they have Ista's yet in her classes. "Wait ... you're blooded?" she asks Hattie, quite directly and Paddy's foot likely nudges his daughter under the table.
Hattie shakes her head, clearly not unsettled by the question, save for its almost in unison delivery. "No," she confirms. "One of my brothers took lessons at the Harper Hall for a while, but he was never going to be a proper Harper. Given their situation, it's probably best that there are no crafters, because they couldn't really... follow it." The directness of Palia's enquiry doesn't seem to affect her either and she simply inclines her head. "Yes," she tells her. "I was the eldest daughter before the hold passed to my generation. My sister is holder now."
Palia's cheek comes to rest on her free hand, the other one is still twirling her fork through her tubers idly. "So you would've been holder if you hadn't impressed?" Dylan picks up his own cutlery to start eating. "Wow, it must be weird not to have any crafters around," is his take on things, but then he's got them on both sides. Paddy supplies: "Different families have different people in them, different traditions, Dyl. What might seem normal to you, won't always seem so to others."
Hattie takes a deep breath, as though she's thinking of a number of different ways to supply a simple, "No. The hold was never going to pass to me," with what sounds like detachment from that situation, though not the question put her way. "It isn't as if there weren't any crafters at the hold at all," she goes on. "Just not in the family. It was never put to us that it might be okay for us to be crafters. Most of my siblings are married now and I suppose that's their focus."
The tone of Hattie's voice draws P'draig's gaze her way, though his mouth is full of food, so he doesn't say anything. At the mention of the word 'married' all three of the kids screw up their faces and go 'ewwwwwww' in chorus. "I'm never getting married," Palia says firmly. "I'm going to run the Beach House someday, just like Papa. And maybe I'll let a boy live here sometimes." Pause. "Maybe. If I find one I like enough to let him stick around." Paddy's elbow thunks to the table, forehead resting in his hand, shoulders shaking silently.
"I made sure that I wasn't getting married either," Hattie declares with a quick shake of her head. "Unless it was my choice and on my terms. But that was nearly ten turns ago now." Glancing over at P'draig, she points her fork his way and insists, "I don't know what you're finding so funny," despite the fact that she's smirking herself. "She's got the right idea. You let boys stick around if you like them enough and you make sure they know that you're letting them." And then it's probably just as well that she looks away from him.
"Don't most holders have to get married?" Palia asks curiously, not twirling her tubers anymore, but actually putting a bite together to eat. Paddy peeks up through his fingers at Hattie, smiles sunnily at her and pops a bite of asparagus into his mouth. Her last promptly makes him choke on that bite as a sudden burst of laughter leads to food and wrong pipe. The kids? Are listening /raptly/ to this entire speech.
Hattie doesn't curse, but she does make a vaguely alarmed noise and mutter something right when there're sounds of choking from P'draig, her gaze seeking him out again. "...You okay?" she asks somewhat tentatively, yet she makes to answer Palia whilst she waits for a response. "Most of them, yes," she confirms. "But a lot of them don't get a choice about who it is. I didn't want to be married to someone I didn't like or would order me around and I was lucky my father didn't ever put his foot down."
Thumping at his own chest, Paddy's eyes water a bit, but he nods. "Yeah, wrong pipe is all," he answer in none-too-steady a voice though it seems to be suppressed laughter causing it, nothing worse. "Yeah, wouldn't want to be pushed into anything like that," he agrees and there's a chorus of agreement around the table. Putting his fork down, the brownrider reaches across the table to rest a hand on Hattie's wrist. "And lucky for us, he didn't do that," he says quietly.
"Yes," Hattie agrees in a low voice, setting a utensil down to briefly cover P'draig's hand with one of her own. "Lucky the silly man didn't do that." Her smile is more accepting than bright when she says, "But some of them are perfectly happy and don't think to question it," to everybody. "It doesn't mean that all holders are unhappy. If you don't love somebody straight away, it doesn't mean that you never will." Her shoulders straighten a little and she takes in a deep breath. "But we're not holders and nor are my kids and I'm glad of it."
A little frown dents Palia's brows as she takes in what Hattie says. Dharia's lost interest now and is busily cleaning her plate of all remaining food. Paddy smiles at Hattie, aims to draw her hand up to his lips to kiss it gently. "All reasons to be glad in general," he says fervently and changes the subject. "So, anyone got any favorite stories they want to read tonight?" Dharia and Dylan have immediate suggestions, Palia's still thinking. Again.
Somehow, Hattie manages to clear her plate in the next few moments without making it look like an impolite shovelling affair, and neatly lines up her cutlery. After a quick glance Palia's way, she suggests, "Since it's not raining beneath the porch and it's not terribly cold, maybe we could go and read out there while your brother and sister have their stories?" without focusing too much attention on her.
A chorus of requests rises from the two younger children. "Okay kids, finish up then and clear your plates," Paddy says lightly, still with some food on his own plate which he finishes off in relaxed fashion. Palia re-focuses on Hattie, seems to consider for a moment, head cocked to the side. Then: "Sure. I'll bring my book." The girl slides from her seat and picks up her plate, disappears briefly into the kitchen and returns to pad barefoot across the dining area through the living area to her room. When she returns, she has a large book tucked under one arm and she waits politely by the door out to the porch for the goldrider.
Hattie watches Palia head off as though not really expecting her to return, though rises the moment she does and carefully tucks her chair back under the table. "See you in a bit," she murmurs to P'draig, then heads off after Palia, stopping along the way to reclaim the bag she left out of the way close to the door. Opening said door, she gestures for her to go on ahead before she follows after, mindful not to let it slam behind them whilst she waits for her to pick somewhere to sit.
Paddy shoots an encouraging little smile upward at Hattie, blue-gray eyes tracking Palia to the door, then shifting to the other two kids as he directs cleanup. From the porch the sounds of clinking cutlery against plates ring out for a bit, then quiet down, only to be replaced by mock-roars as P'draig chases his son and daughter around the living room and on through to the porch for bath time. Enthusiastic splashing echoes for a little bit thereafter. Palia meanwhile heads for the porch swing and tucks herself up in one corner with the book resting across her knees. The girl's gaze slips off toward the sea where the sun's light is rapidly fading from the curling tops of the waves. "I love living here," she says suddenly.
The other corner of the swing seems safe enough, so Hattie opts to park herself there, bag set down actually on her feet. For a few seconds, she pretends she hasn't heard anything and simply gazes at the ocean herself, to eventually say, "I used to live by the sea. I miss it." That's not all she's got though, and she states, "You think I'm going to make you move to Fort," still watching the water. Whether it's true or not, she insists, "I can disabuse you of that notion right away. The fact is, I'm not."
"What do you miss --" Palia starts, stops as she looks over at Hattie suddenly and draws a sharp breath. The girl's knees tuck upward toward her chest, the book sliding along with them. She frowns down at her toes, curling and uncurling them against the edge of the swing. Finally: "Yes," Palia answers and slides a look over at Hattie once more. "I was born there. Maybe I should think of Fort more like home, but I don't." Her chin lifts a little and there's a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Here is."
"What would I possibly have to gain by uprooting you?" Hattie questions, levelling an even gaze across the space between herself and Palia. "I would see your father more often, certainly. Gethin would see more of you all. Otherwise?" She lifts one shoulder and looks back out across the beach. "You would hate me. Maybe more than you've decided that you do already. Your father couldn't run a business that he loves. I'd be in a relationship with one of my subordinates. I can't leave Fort - it's /my/ Weyr, that's true. But it doesn't mean that I have any desire to make you leave your home."
Palia's eyes widen as Hattie drops the word 'hate' into the equation and she shifts, pushing the book off of her knees, bends to drop it lightly to the floor beneath the swing, then edges cautiously toward Hattie. "I don't hate you," she says with a vehement shake of her head then looks down at her own knees, skirt caught between them and fidgets with the hem. "I'm -- I'm scared," she finally says very softly, not quiet whisper.
Despite the considerable amount of control that Hattie must be exerting over herself, she still somehow looks vaguely surprised at the news that she's not hated. Her head turns and she looks down at Palia when she edges over and continues to even when she's stopped and started examining her hem. Taking a deep breath, she states, "So am I," not quietly and like it's a fact, not an admittance of anything at all. "I'm not here to take your father away from you. If it's me you're scared of, then I think we have a problem."
Palia's head starts shaking again, curls catching at the back of her dress. "No. I'm scared you'll leave him too. Leave us." Palia's fingers stop plucking and she peeks up at Hattie through her bangs, expression rather intense for a kid her age. "That he'll be all sad again." She puffs out a breath and leans back against the swing, looking up at the porch rafters. The bath's gone quiet: Dylan and Dharia must be getting their pajamas on and getting their stories. "And ... yeah. I thought you'd want us to come back to Fort. Make us give up the restaurant. But you know we can't, right?" That last is spoken almost like a business-woman would, the manner clearly borrowed from somewhere, likely someone the girl's observed.
Hattie nudges her bag away and off her feet, slips her shoes off and turns to sit sideways with her legs tucked up under her skirts. "...Look, I'm not going to treat you like a child, so..." Yet she does stop to order her words, if not censor herself. "I can't promise that everything will always be perfect. I love your father more than is probably sensible for a woman in my position - and, for Faranth's sake, don't go telling him that - but I'm human and so is he and to make that promise would be the same as lying to you. I don't intend to leave him. That's all I can say and still be honest." She looks down into her lap and shakes her head slightly. "I can't leave Fort. How can I ask you to do something that I can't?"
Silence greets most of what Hattie's said but after a moment, Palia suddenly edges closer and tentatively reaches out with one hand for Hattie's. "Okay," is all the girl says in the end, looking up at Hattie again very seriously. Her tone indicates acceptance, though there's clearly not trust yet. The jury's still out, basically, but a chance has been extended.
Carefully, Hattie reaches back and takes Palia's hand in hers, though with the other she reaches down to scrabble about in her bag and draw out a small, bound book. "The thing is, I could sit here and tell you that I'm a good person and say everything that you'd expect me to. That wouldn't make any of it true either," she says quietly. "So," the goldrider goes on, offering over the book, "this is yours to read if you want to. It was my journal when I was a weyrling. It's not got anything you shouldn't know in it and it's not got any sappy poetry. But, if you want to understand me... it's probably your best bet."
Small fingers close around bigger ones and squeeze gently. That book though as it's brought out makes Palia's eyes go wide with surprise. "Really?" she breathes out, eyes blinking rapidly and for a few moments she's quite speechless. Eventually though she reaches out to take the offered book with reverent hands and looks down at the cover, one finger smoothing over it. "I'm ... I'm not sure if I should. This is your private stuff ..."
"It's true that nobody else has read it," Hattie replies, inclining her head slightly. "Given that I was a weyrling, a lot of it is about Elaruth and will probably bore you to tears," she jokes quietly. "I'm not a terribly open person. Anything that I didn't want anyone ever finding out ever simply just isn't written down, but the rest might be enough to understand why I'm like I am. If I was concerned about you reading it, then I wouldn't have offered it." Exhaling slowly, she adds, "Or if I didn't intend on sticking around."
Palia's hand stills and her palm rests on top of the book. The girl's nails are short, but one nail has been fancifully painted blue. Gray eyes slowly lift to find Hattie's brown ones and she nods once, expression solemn. "I'll be very careful with this. I -- I don't know if I'll read it. But I'll let you know if I do," the girl decides, then she folds the volume into her lap and after a moment's hesitation lifts her arms to offer Hattie a hug. "It ... it'd be nice to have someone ... like a mother." That last is said very, very carefully.
"I know you will be," the goldrider says quietly. "Even if you don't read it, I just wanted you to have it. Use it as leverage if you ever want the last of the ice-cream or something," Hattie goes on, smiling faintly as she leans a little closer to gently wrap her arms around Palia. "...I'm not going to assume anything, you know. If I overstep, then put me back in my place. But I would like for you to be like one of mine one day... If you want to be." After a moment more, she draws back and laughs quietly, nodding towards the abandoned book on the floor. "So, what're we going to say we've been reading out here?"
It's likely that some of what Hattie just said goes over Palia's head. The girl leans in a little to make that a proper enough hug, though it's not enthusiastic. It's not until the goldrider makes that claim about wanting Palia to be like her own some day that the child's arms suddenly tighten and she hides her face in Hattie's shoulder, a small sound squeaking from her throat, halfway between caught breath and a whimper. In that moment before Hattie draws away to make light, she might feel a touch of dampness to her sleeve. When the goldrider draws back and makes light, Palia keeps her head down, turning a bit to reach for the book, though one hand makes a telltale gesture across her eyes, poorly masked as pushing her hair back behind her ear. "Tales of Ista," Palia announces. "They're from all over the island. Papa and I are on the one about the fishermen and the three fish," she describes and hauls the volume up from its spot on the ground, offering it over to Hattie with her face still somewhat averted and a faint tremor in her voice.
Given her own attitude to being caught in any state of tears, Hattie doesn't try to make a big deal of catching Palia out, choosing to focus on the book when it's offered to her, a few moments taken to examine it and find the start of the right story, clearly hoping to be redirected to the right bit shortly. However, once she's found that page, she doesn't pretend anymore and shifts to make room for Palia in her corner of the swing, arm lifting like she'd tuck it securely around her if she moves. "Come here," she says quietly. "I've got to get hugs in before you're too old and get embarrassed about them."
"Here," Palia flips over one more and tucks right in under Hattie's arm, head tilting to rest against the goldrider and her finger points to the beginning. "Why would anybody be embarrassed by hugs?" is a question perhaps more fitting of P'draig's daughter.
"Maybe you won't be," Hattie ponders quietly. "We'll see. Some people think they make them look vulnerable. Some don't like admitting they were ever affectionate with their family. I'm not sure," she says, evidently having taken the question as a serious enquiry. "Probably best not to think about it." Her arm tucks a little more around Palia, the other used to prop and balance the book in such a way that the text can be seen by both and, after she locates the line pointed to, she starts to read on, making sure her voice is just loud enough to be heard above the falling rain.
Palia's assessment: "That's weird." And she snuggles a little bit closer, piping down in the interests of listening, though she's also following along with the words, well able to read for herself of course. It's been quiet indoors for a while, Paddy giving the two of them space after tucking the younger kids in for the night. He's been busy with the dishes in between and peeks outside to check on the pair, though there's no one to catch the relief on his face as he watches Palia settle in so comfortably with Hattie. He waits a bit longer before coming out onto the porch with mugs of cider and ginger-spiced cookies to share. "Hey there, I've got dessert if you can give the book a little bit of a rest?"
It's pretty good timing - pretty good in that there's only half of the last line of the tale to go when P'draig steps out onto the porch. Hattie stops midsentence and looks up, claiming, "You know that it's entirely unfair to present a choice between dessert and a book," and flashing a smirk before she makes a point of going back to the beginning of the last line and reading the whole thing. At its conclusion, she asks Palia, "What do you think? Dessert or book?" seemingly very seriously, and it would be, were it not for the smile in her eyes.
P'draig just grins and moves toward the swing to set the tray down on the nearest side table. Palia makes big round eyes at her father and makes a shushing kind of motion, grinning at what Hattie says, then makes much of listening very attentively when she goes back to that line. The girl's head tilts to the side and she reaches over to flip the next page like 'book' is the definite choice here. "The next one looks pretty good, but it's /Papa's/ cookies," she says very very seriously in turn. No really. Only she's caught on and the corners of her mouth are threatening to break into a new smile. Paddy? He just settles down into the lounge chair nearby and makes much of taking a mug and a cookie and munching on the latter.
"All right, now he's taunting us," Hattie claims, carefully closing the book and making to sit up a little more and ease out of the corner of the swing. She lets Palia escape the gravity of the corner first, then swings her feet to the floor and sets the book down on the ground, telling P'draig, "No book for you," very sternly, like it's a threat. Not that that stops her from reaching for a mug. Or a cookie. She blinks at both, as though she can't decide where to start, only to opt for the latter.
Giggling now, Palia slips out of the swing and patters over to get a mug and two cookies and trades her original seat for a new one in her father's lap. Paddy hastens to sit up a little, swings his mug out of the way so there's no mishaps with hot liquid. "Good story?" he asks mildly, mug set down out of the way and his arm folding around Palia. "And I'll just have to make do with the summary version," Paddy tells Hattie with a grin.
Leaning back, Hattie tucks her feet back up and beneath the skirts of her dress, carefully balancing her mug in her lap whilst she continues to munch on the cookie and so only sends a smirk P'draig's way for the next little while. "I suppose you will," she says eventually, though she casts a glance out across the beach again, uttering, "This rain really isn't going to let up any time soon, is it?"
P'draig's cookie disappears down the hatch and he reaches around with his free hand to reclaim his mug, takes a sip and squints outside at the downpour. "Nope, probably not. Looks like you're stuck here unless you want to get soaked again," he notes with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Palia claps a hand to her mouth and turns to butt her head into Paddy's chest as she swallows her last bite of cookie, then pokes her father in the stomach with an impertinent finger. "/Papa/. Sometimes you're /awful/," she says with a little sniff, then sits up, both hands cradling her mug for a long drink. "More seriously," Paddy says, clearing his throat, "please do stay, Hattie?" Mouth full, Palia just nods along with the request.
Hattie does not choke. She merely suddenly needs a drink and her cider is right there to be gulped down, regardless of temperature. "Seeing as," she finally manages, once she surfaces again, "Elaruth has abandoned me to go and keep an eye on Yshtiath, it looks like I really am stuck here." Not that she looks awfully upset about the whole thing. "So, in the interest of not getting soaked and not upsetting my queen, I would like to stay. Thank you," she addresses to both Palia and P'draig. She bends to reclaim the book from the floor, admitting, "And now I'm worried about this being forgotten and rained on overnight," with a rueful smile.
Still in place is Paddy's grin when Hattie resurfaces and the look he shoots her over his daughter's head is only allowable because Palia can't see it. "I'd say I'll make up the couch, but I'm pretty sure everyone sitting here knows where you're sleeping tonight." So saying, Paddy finishes off his cider and sets the mug aside in favor of wrapping his arms around Palia. "And you Pali-girl, should go get into your pajamas. I'll come tuck you in in a minute okay?" There's no protests from the girl, just a little eye roll before she turns to hug Paddy back. Released, she slides out of his lap and leaves her mug on the table, but steals two cookies for the road, with a cheeky grin. Her feet patter away inside, leaving the brownrider behind in a silence broken only by the drumming of rain on the roof. He waits a moment before asking quietly: "You okay?"
Clearly still not used to any sort of openness in front of children, Hattie conveniently hides behind her mug again until she can manage a quiet, "Goodnight, Palia," as she heads on inside. Shortly after, she leans forward, resting elbows on her knees, which is probably an interesting view in that dress, not that it seems intentional. The Weyrwoman nods a few times in silence, then says softly, "Like I said - she thought I was going to make you move to Fort. Or leave you. Once we got that sorted out... some things were easier."
The rain continues to fall and Paddy sits in silence, digesting for a moment, though his gaze does flicker to that very interesting view for the space of a heartbeart or three then nods and pushes to his feet. "Glad you were able to sort it out. I'll make sure to keep reassuring about the moving part. And the leaving bit ... well there's some things I should probably tell you that will help with that too. Otherwise, it's just going to take time and building trust." Both of his hands are held out to Hattie. "Come tuck her in with me? And then, my love, I think /you/ need a little tucking in of your own."
For once, Hattie doesn't make demands about needing to know things /right now/ and she quietly voices the assumed, "Not tonight," with a little shake of her head. Rising to her feet, she tucks the abandoned storybook under one arm before reaching back for P'draig's hands with her own. "She's going to think the two of us is overkill," she jokes gently, making to head on inside despite the tease. "Come on, or I might just stay up and read all night..." she threatens, smirking again.
"No, not tonight," P'draig agrees, hands closing around Hattie's and his smile grows briefly wider, though it's quality is soft. "Hopefully in a good way," the brownrider says of tucking in Palia with him and presses a kiss to the back of one of Hattie's hands, before curling an arm around her to walk back inside where there's a little girl to tuck in, lights to dim and then stories of a more grownup persuasion to tell ... all night long.