Log: Paths Not Taken
Who: Hattie, P'draig
When: It is an autumn dusk, 19:57 of day 1, month 12, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Where: The Beach House, Ista Weyr
What: Hattie and Elaruth come by for a little light-hearted downtime with Paddy and Jekzith.
Porch, The Beach House(#1051RAJ)
A big four seater swing sways in the breezes on the front porch, while the back porch is screened in and hung with several rope mesh and canvas sling chairs and a hammock. Wooden boxes placed at intervals along this porch hold toys and games for Paddy's kids and help keep tripping hazards to a manageable minimum. An outdoor, cistern-supplied shower and outhouse have been strategically built in a cluster of trees to provide some privacy from anyone passing by on the beach.
Trees surround the house on all sides but the front and someone's been working on transforming the area around the cothold into a more extensive garden than the veggies-and-herbs that are the focus of the kitchen garden. At the back of the cothold, the porch has been partially extended to provide a rain shelter for Jekzith and a white stone path leads around this area, threading through flower beds still under development.
The weather has not been pleasant at Fort recently, though that can't be the only reason that Elaruth reaches out to Jekzith and warmer shores late afternoon, the sound of thunder unsettling shallow water every now and then, bleeding through her touch. Can they visit? Will they get in the way? And, the more quiet wondering that might be caught: will Hattie change her mind in the next five minutes? Despite the thunder, contact remains strong, a confidence and certainty there that perhaps hasn't been present before.
When Elaruth reaches out, Jekzith answers brightly with a sense of thunder just /past/ not too long ago, of rain that fell and now cooling breezes that wash the porch of the beach house. << Please do come! >> he invites warmly and paints a vivid image of his rider swinging in the hammock on the porch with a pitcher of iced tea near at hand and the slight ruffling of pages as he works on something for the restaurant. There's the glow of lanterns to light this particular picture, though otherwise the sun has set at Ista and all is quiet in the cothold behind the brownrider.
Elaruth doesn't need to be told twice, though it takes a little while to organize a thing or two before she and her rider depart. Upon arriving and making it to black sands, she sends an affectionate mental nudge Jekzith's way, and, for once, doesn't go rushing into the ocean, content to curl up on the beach. When Hattie turns up on the porch, she's still pretty soaked from the brief flight required to gain enough altitude to make the jump to Ista safely, yet she's already drying out, wet jacket and lifemate's straps slung over her right shoulder. "Baby's asleep," she greets, like he's just in the next room, to explain just why her left arm isn't occupied by a squirming child.
Forewarned, P'draig sets aside papers and the book he's been resting them on as Elaruth and Hattie break out of Between. His smile for the goldrider is warm and welcoming as she approaches, a hand held out for that jacket and the straps even. "Shells, weather's that bad huh? Well you missed our earlier storm, sand is still a little damp, but the breeze has been doing a good job of drying things off." He laughs a little at her claim about Gethin. "And here's hoping he'll sleep very well indeed. The rest of his brothers and sisters are sacked out too," a thumb jerk is expressive about where the rest of the gang are. "Want to come sit? Have a drink?" Jekzith lets out a single bright warble as Elaruth nears, turns his muzzle toward her with an affectionate physical nudge when she comes to join him. << The stars should be out tonight! >> he claims cheerily and looks upward.
"Oh, it's been a joy," Hattie says dryly, relinquishing her jacket, though seems concerned about burdening the brownrider with straps as well before she hands them over. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy a forty-eight hour storm." Lifting a hand to her hair, she drags a couple of pins from it, clearly hoping for it to dry faster down, gaze wandering in the direction gestured in, then back up to P'draig. "Long day?" she asks. "But yes, a perch and a drink sound great," the goldrider adds with feeling. Out on the beach, Elaruth gently touches her muzzle to Jekzith in turn, then circles one way, then the other before settling properly, paws arranged so as not to touch sand. << We have had nothing but grey for a while. I should like to see the stars again, >> she responds, likewise looking upward.
"Autumn can be wet at Fort," P'draig says placidly and takes the straps up onto the porch, hangs them on one of the many hooks that line the walls on this part of it. Hattie's jacket soon occupies another and he gestures toward hammock and chairs: her choice. "Plenty of iced tea to go around if you like it? Otherwise I've got other choices in the kitchen. Lemonade. Wine. Beer. Hard liquor. And it wasn't too long of a day, no. No service today, so I've been catching up on a few things. Need a towel?" he offers next as her hair is freed.
"Think I'll skip the hard liquor or I might not find my way home. Certainly not with any elegance," the Weyrwoman jokes, sporting a smirk. "Iced tea sounds like it'll do the job, thanks." Hands run through her hair and Hattie pats at it a bit, deciding, "I think I'll be okay. I'm not casting water anywhere, at least." Then she's opting for hammock, asking, "Do you ever get people turning up on the doorstep when there's no service? Forlorn little people looking all waif-like and hungry. And do you take pity on them?" She might not be entirely serious with those words, another smiling sneaking its way in.
Coming around the hammock's edge, Paddy pauses to pour tea into another glass, holds it out for Hattie to take. "From time to time I do, actually. And that's what the day old or two day old bread usually goes for. Or sometimes I just cook up something on the spot. There was a candidate from the clutch that just impressed at Ista most recently I made some things for. She wasn't used to spicy food and sometimes had trouble finding what she liked in the caverns here."
Reaching out, Hattie accepts the tea with a murmur of thanks. "Really? That's a bit above and beyond the call of duty, isn't it?" she replies. "Not," she goes on, "that I'm surprised. I didn't expect that you would turn people away." Eyes narrowing, her gaze turns thoughtful and she looks vaguely in the direction of the Weyr. "How old are that lot now? The last clutch. Must be about a turn, give or take a little, right? Time flies. I suppose they're out terrorizing the rest of the world now."
Passing off the glass to Hattie, P'draig pulls one of the chairs closer and settles into it with his feet up on the other. "Not really, it's just good use of things I can't sell at the restaurant anymore," the brownrider says with a shake of his head. "I mean, some of it I can re-purpose, but if we have a slow night, there's leftovers that have to get used up or they'll just go to waste." He nods about the last clutch. "Just about ready for tapping. Senior weyrlings now." He leans forward to pick up his own abandoned glass and has a sip before settling against the chair's back comfortably.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Hattie touches the glass to her forehead for a moment before she actually gets around to drinking some of its contents. "I can't say that I really know any of them; they've not popped up down our way very often, anyway. Except for basic training, of course." She sighs and takes another sip from her glass. "I can't believe we're going to have two classes roaming around again. It makes you wonder just how people coped with two classes two or three times the number of each group now."
"I know a few of them. Nyssa, Vyshani, A'nas, mostly. Talked with a few others a time or two. They're good kids for the most part," P'draig offers over his opinion then laughs and lets his head drop back against the chair. "Oh shells, yeah, those were busy times. I mean, I didn't even get to see it when the barracks were /really/ full, but multiple clutches in a row were more common when I was Weyrlingmaster at Fort." Jekzith's shoulder bumps over towards Elaruth's for a moment as they look up at the sky. << Look. See? What do you think those three close together look like? >>
Hattie's renowned faith in people surfaces when she echoes, "For the most part," in a low voice, smirk tugging at one corner of her lips again. "I'm thankful that I won't be the one running around after them. I think that guarding their little dragons along with their dam for several sevens is really enough in the babysitting department," she says dryly, letting a bark of rough laughter escape her. "Do you miss it? The running about after them." Elaruth tips a little more onto her side, focus intensifying. << I think they're on a chase. It's a game. The little one is the brightest and will eventually win. >>
"It's a tough job, but someone has to do it," P'draig quips lightly, tilts his glass up and has a sip. "Just be happy it's neither one of us," he jokes further though there's a faint air of nostalgia about him that might serve as premature answer to Hattie's question. "Yes and no," Paddy says thoughtfully after a moment. "I enjoyed the work and it was a big part of who I was for a long time. I miss the camaraderie that comes from working so closely together for so long. I miss seeing young, clueless neophytes mature into /riders/. But I don't miss the hours or some of the messy and hard parts of the job. It can get to you after a while, especially if you lose one and the longer you do the job, the more likely you are to lose more than one weyrling over time," he concludes quietly. Jekzith considers and draws lines that connect the stars, though it's more like an action diagram than static image. << Oh I can see it! And those four over there, they look like a line of trundlebugs. >>
A faint snort follows that quip, but otherwise Hattie doesn't make to interrupt and sobers pretty quickly to wind up looking rather troubled and somewhat regretful. It's not a smooth move that has her leaning to set her glass down, but it's completed without mishap. "I'm sorry," she says softly and sincerely, without clarifying about just what or why, once balanced is regained. Arms lift and reach in P'draig's direction, though she doesn't seem to have any further words to go with whatever she means by the gesture. << And they had better move quickly or the flame might get them, >> Elaruth points out, tracing a fuzzy line between a sequence of stars nearby to sketch out a pattern of flame as if produced by a dragon.
That expression of sympathy seems to surprise P'draig a little and he shakes his head, looks over at Hattie with brows raised for a moment. His glass is set aside though and he sits up, reaches forward to meet one of her hands halfway, fingers curling around hers gently. "It's all right, Hattie," he says simply and smiles over at her. "Though it is one of the reasons why I'm happy with what I do now. It's all about making people happy with good food. In a lot of ways, it's a hell of a lot simpler than ... well just about anything else." Jekzith adds sparks to the flames Elaruth draws and skips a mental stone over to another cluster of stars. << Fish darting beneath the waves! >>
Hattie twitches back a touch at raised brows, but doesn't retreat any further and carefully curls her fingers in turn. "I suppose it is. Not that I'd know where to start with it, mind. It must be... reassuring to know you can feel fulfilled by something else." She smiles ruefully, admitting, "I'm not sure that I would want to step back from this," she lifts the shoulder that her knot usually sits at, "even if it was really an option. I don't know what I'd do. I don't really know how to do anything else." Starry fish pointed out has Elaruth's attention wandering to the real ocean for a moment, yet she doesn't move. << I wonder if they can see the stars from beneath the water, >> she muses quietly.
"Yes. It's also good to be /able/ to do something else," P'draig answers and his fingers tighten around hers briefly then relax. "The interval allows it. If this were a Pass ..." his shoulders lift, drop again and then he laughs. "You know, I don't think I can imagine you /not/ managing people," he admits. "You're just a take-charge kind of person." Jekzith's attention drift to the water, following Elaruth's thoughts. << We can, so they probably can too. Do you want to go see? >>
"The interval allows much. Were we to be in a Pass, I expect that there would be much that I wouldn't allow that goes on now," the goldrider murmurs. Hattie retreats back then, if only with the aim of letting the brownrider slouch in his chair again. "I'm a piss people off with specifics kind of person," she states wryly. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened to me, were it not for Elaruth. It doesn't end well. I don't know if other riders are prone to the same thoughts." On the sand, the little queen considers the waves for a short while. << Perhaps. For a little while, >> Elaruth responds, beginning to uncurl.
"If this were a Pass, a lot of things would be different," P'draig says quietly and does slouch back in that chair, expression briefly, dark, gaze turning upward to the wooden rafters that support his roof. A tile roof. "Bore them to death with too much detail, is that you on a really bad day?" Paddy queries jokingly, the darkness sliding away, replaced by fond humor. "Don't sell yourself short, Hattie. You'd probably have also made an admirable headwoman, or lady. As for me, if I hadn't found Jekzith, I'd probably be doing exactly what I'm doing now, only not at Ista and not with some lingering rider's duties." Jekzith is quicker to his feet, stretching out swiftly and then trotting towards the water eagerly. He never lacks for energy this one. << All right! Race you down to where it's deep? >>
"Bad day? Who are you kidding - that's me on a good day," Hattie jokes in a low voice, shaking her head in such a fashion as to allow her to look away and therefore not reach back out when P'draig's expression shades dark, though her fingers curl. "It's not selling myself short," she says simply. "I'd have ended up married to some idiot and stuck in some tiny hold somewhere. That's how the world works." Attention strays in the general direction of dragons and she teases, "Maybe Jekzith will catch another queen one day." Slow to start yet quick to catch up, Elaruth pads after the brown and sends a splash of water his way with her tail once she's in the shallows. << You're on! >>
"Oh right, I forgot, on a bad day, it's worse," P'draig jokes back then blows out a breath. "In the end, who knows really? It's as likely you might've wound up lady of Fort," he remarks lightly. "Life isn't always terribly predictable." His gaze shifts over to the dragons though and a momentary flash of something like discomfort is discernible there. "Maybe," he answers slowly. "It'd make him happy to have a clutch again," he remarks neutrally then looks back over at Hattie. "Not Elaruth though." His voice lowers, tone even and the corner of his mouth pulls upward slightly. << Oh ho! Off we go! >> is Jekzith's delighted reply, a little bit of spray sent in answer to that splash and then he's all eeling his way through the shallows and down beneath darkened waves to find where it's deep enough for full on swimming.
"Given its former Lord, I sharding well hope not," Hattie declares with a fair amount of feeling, shivering. "But I suppose it might have been an option, if I had learned to shut up." She briefly looks away, expression perhaps letting on a mental flinch at now repeated putting of feet in places. "Not Elaruth," the goldrider agrees when she glances back. "Unless you have secret designs on Weyrleader. That and, well, I don't think it's likely that she'll let anyone but Mecaith catch her now." It might be a race, but Elaruth still takes her time until she can really swim, when she ducks beneath the waves and vanishes with a wave of her white-gold tailtip. However, progress is slowed by investigation; she looks up every now and then to see if she can still see stars.
"I was thinking more of his brother," P'draig amends. "Based on what I've heard, I wouldn't have wished that usurper on anyone." Breath out and it's Paddy's turn to lean forward, hand aimed for Hattie's arm to press there reassuringly. "No, I don't and never have. Besides, brownriders /can't/ be Weyrleader," he says with a little shrug though that revelation lifts his brows again. "Really? They're that close?" Jekzith arrows on out deeper and deeper, clearly having fun with the race concept. He stops finally though, turns about and looks upward too. << They're fuzzier, >> is his conclusion about stars through water.
"Hundreds of eventualities for hundreds of different paths..." Hattie murmurs. "Even if only slightly different." One hand lifts to cover P'draig's for a moment and she smiles ruefully again. "It's... difficult to explain. There's been something there for turns, but then there couldn't really be and..." She hesitates, trying to think of another way to word it, and, upon not finding one, rushes on with, "If you believe that dragons can love like people love each other, then Elaruth loves Mecaith." Embarrassment? Check. But whilst she's in that zone, she suggests, "Come and lie in this hammock with me and I'll stop blathering on at you? I might even fall asleep on you." Out in the water, Elaruth slows to float for a while, considering the faraway sky. << I think I can see three of the same star, with the ripples. >>
"I can believe that they can, yes," P'draig says quietly, smiling again and he nods. "I'm glad she's happy then, if it's something she's wanted for a long time. Jekzith ... well he loves everyone, pretty much. Though he does have some he's especially fond of." Hattie's request however, is answered by hesitation and Paddy's hand retreats, expression uncertain. He looks out toward the beach, dark but for the star light and moon light, then he pushes up out of the chair, presses the edge of the hammock down to steady it and rolls into it with the ease of much practice. "Here, lift up your head?" he suggests, offering his arm for a pillow. Jekzith looks up through the water and draws some mental lines. << It's the same ... but different. A different view. >> He blows out some bubbles, then starts to rise up toward the surface.
Hattie looks up and away again; starts to say something that doesn't make it past the first syllable and in the end opts to shut up and not go blundering on with anything else. All she does is lift her head and curl up as close as she's allowed or dares to, like she'd apologize for remarks made without thinking the only way she can manage to without making a mess of it. She might even pretend to sleep for a while, but doesn't, for the knot to eventually call her back with a handful of quiet words in parting. For the next while, Elaruth floats and bobs along on the surface of the ocean, companionably close to Jekzith before the desire to return to her Weyr pulls her back just like duty calls her rider.
P'draig settles comfortably after a little while, not averse to closeness. His arm circles Hattie's shoulders lightly and he's silent for the duration, mimicking dragons by looking out beyond the edge of the roof toward the starry sky. Those quiet words are answered with a brief kiss, pressed to her forehead and P'draig releases Hattie back to those duties. He stands to watch Fort's Weyrwoman off, waves from the porch as she and Elaruth head off into the night then returns to the hammock and abandoned hides for a time until bed calls, while Jekzith slowly dries off on the beach.
When: It is an autumn dusk, 19:57 of day 1, month 12, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Where: The Beach House, Ista Weyr
What: Hattie and Elaruth come by for a little light-hearted downtime with Paddy and Jekzith.
Porch, The Beach House(#1051RAJ)
A big four seater swing sways in the breezes on the front porch, while the back porch is screened in and hung with several rope mesh and canvas sling chairs and a hammock. Wooden boxes placed at intervals along this porch hold toys and games for Paddy's kids and help keep tripping hazards to a manageable minimum. An outdoor, cistern-supplied shower and outhouse have been strategically built in a cluster of trees to provide some privacy from anyone passing by on the beach.
Trees surround the house on all sides but the front and someone's been working on transforming the area around the cothold into a more extensive garden than the veggies-and-herbs that are the focus of the kitchen garden. At the back of the cothold, the porch has been partially extended to provide a rain shelter for Jekzith and a white stone path leads around this area, threading through flower beds still under development.
The weather has not been pleasant at Fort recently, though that can't be the only reason that Elaruth reaches out to Jekzith and warmer shores late afternoon, the sound of thunder unsettling shallow water every now and then, bleeding through her touch. Can they visit? Will they get in the way? And, the more quiet wondering that might be caught: will Hattie change her mind in the next five minutes? Despite the thunder, contact remains strong, a confidence and certainty there that perhaps hasn't been present before.
When Elaruth reaches out, Jekzith answers brightly with a sense of thunder just /past/ not too long ago, of rain that fell and now cooling breezes that wash the porch of the beach house. << Please do come! >> he invites warmly and paints a vivid image of his rider swinging in the hammock on the porch with a pitcher of iced tea near at hand and the slight ruffling of pages as he works on something for the restaurant. There's the glow of lanterns to light this particular picture, though otherwise the sun has set at Ista and all is quiet in the cothold behind the brownrider.
Elaruth doesn't need to be told twice, though it takes a little while to organize a thing or two before she and her rider depart. Upon arriving and making it to black sands, she sends an affectionate mental nudge Jekzith's way, and, for once, doesn't go rushing into the ocean, content to curl up on the beach. When Hattie turns up on the porch, she's still pretty soaked from the brief flight required to gain enough altitude to make the jump to Ista safely, yet she's already drying out, wet jacket and lifemate's straps slung over her right shoulder. "Baby's asleep," she greets, like he's just in the next room, to explain just why her left arm isn't occupied by a squirming child.
Forewarned, P'draig sets aside papers and the book he's been resting them on as Elaruth and Hattie break out of Between. His smile for the goldrider is warm and welcoming as she approaches, a hand held out for that jacket and the straps even. "Shells, weather's that bad huh? Well you missed our earlier storm, sand is still a little damp, but the breeze has been doing a good job of drying things off." He laughs a little at her claim about Gethin. "And here's hoping he'll sleep very well indeed. The rest of his brothers and sisters are sacked out too," a thumb jerk is expressive about where the rest of the gang are. "Want to come sit? Have a drink?" Jekzith lets out a single bright warble as Elaruth nears, turns his muzzle toward her with an affectionate physical nudge when she comes to join him. << The stars should be out tonight! >> he claims cheerily and looks upward.
"Oh, it's been a joy," Hattie says dryly, relinquishing her jacket, though seems concerned about burdening the brownrider with straps as well before she hands them over. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy a forty-eight hour storm." Lifting a hand to her hair, she drags a couple of pins from it, clearly hoping for it to dry faster down, gaze wandering in the direction gestured in, then back up to P'draig. "Long day?" she asks. "But yes, a perch and a drink sound great," the goldrider adds with feeling. Out on the beach, Elaruth gently touches her muzzle to Jekzith in turn, then circles one way, then the other before settling properly, paws arranged so as not to touch sand. << We have had nothing but grey for a while. I should like to see the stars again, >> she responds, likewise looking upward.
"Autumn can be wet at Fort," P'draig says placidly and takes the straps up onto the porch, hangs them on one of the many hooks that line the walls on this part of it. Hattie's jacket soon occupies another and he gestures toward hammock and chairs: her choice. "Plenty of iced tea to go around if you like it? Otherwise I've got other choices in the kitchen. Lemonade. Wine. Beer. Hard liquor. And it wasn't too long of a day, no. No service today, so I've been catching up on a few things. Need a towel?" he offers next as her hair is freed.
"Think I'll skip the hard liquor or I might not find my way home. Certainly not with any elegance," the Weyrwoman jokes, sporting a smirk. "Iced tea sounds like it'll do the job, thanks." Hands run through her hair and Hattie pats at it a bit, deciding, "I think I'll be okay. I'm not casting water anywhere, at least." Then she's opting for hammock, asking, "Do you ever get people turning up on the doorstep when there's no service? Forlorn little people looking all waif-like and hungry. And do you take pity on them?" She might not be entirely serious with those words, another smiling sneaking its way in.
Coming around the hammock's edge, Paddy pauses to pour tea into another glass, holds it out for Hattie to take. "From time to time I do, actually. And that's what the day old or two day old bread usually goes for. Or sometimes I just cook up something on the spot. There was a candidate from the clutch that just impressed at Ista most recently I made some things for. She wasn't used to spicy food and sometimes had trouble finding what she liked in the caverns here."
Reaching out, Hattie accepts the tea with a murmur of thanks. "Really? That's a bit above and beyond the call of duty, isn't it?" she replies. "Not," she goes on, "that I'm surprised. I didn't expect that you would turn people away." Eyes narrowing, her gaze turns thoughtful and she looks vaguely in the direction of the Weyr. "How old are that lot now? The last clutch. Must be about a turn, give or take a little, right? Time flies. I suppose they're out terrorizing the rest of the world now."
Passing off the glass to Hattie, P'draig pulls one of the chairs closer and settles into it with his feet up on the other. "Not really, it's just good use of things I can't sell at the restaurant anymore," the brownrider says with a shake of his head. "I mean, some of it I can re-purpose, but if we have a slow night, there's leftovers that have to get used up or they'll just go to waste." He nods about the last clutch. "Just about ready for tapping. Senior weyrlings now." He leans forward to pick up his own abandoned glass and has a sip before settling against the chair's back comfortably.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Hattie touches the glass to her forehead for a moment before she actually gets around to drinking some of its contents. "I can't say that I really know any of them; they've not popped up down our way very often, anyway. Except for basic training, of course." She sighs and takes another sip from her glass. "I can't believe we're going to have two classes roaming around again. It makes you wonder just how people coped with two classes two or three times the number of each group now."
"I know a few of them. Nyssa, Vyshani, A'nas, mostly. Talked with a few others a time or two. They're good kids for the most part," P'draig offers over his opinion then laughs and lets his head drop back against the chair. "Oh shells, yeah, those were busy times. I mean, I didn't even get to see it when the barracks were /really/ full, but multiple clutches in a row were more common when I was Weyrlingmaster at Fort." Jekzith's shoulder bumps over towards Elaruth's for a moment as they look up at the sky. << Look. See? What do you think those three close together look like? >>
Hattie's renowned faith in people surfaces when she echoes, "For the most part," in a low voice, smirk tugging at one corner of her lips again. "I'm thankful that I won't be the one running around after them. I think that guarding their little dragons along with their dam for several sevens is really enough in the babysitting department," she says dryly, letting a bark of rough laughter escape her. "Do you miss it? The running about after them." Elaruth tips a little more onto her side, focus intensifying. << I think they're on a chase. It's a game. The little one is the brightest and will eventually win. >>
"It's a tough job, but someone has to do it," P'draig quips lightly, tilts his glass up and has a sip. "Just be happy it's neither one of us," he jokes further though there's a faint air of nostalgia about him that might serve as premature answer to Hattie's question. "Yes and no," Paddy says thoughtfully after a moment. "I enjoyed the work and it was a big part of who I was for a long time. I miss the camaraderie that comes from working so closely together for so long. I miss seeing young, clueless neophytes mature into /riders/. But I don't miss the hours or some of the messy and hard parts of the job. It can get to you after a while, especially if you lose one and the longer you do the job, the more likely you are to lose more than one weyrling over time," he concludes quietly. Jekzith considers and draws lines that connect the stars, though it's more like an action diagram than static image. << Oh I can see it! And those four over there, they look like a line of trundlebugs. >>
A faint snort follows that quip, but otherwise Hattie doesn't make to interrupt and sobers pretty quickly to wind up looking rather troubled and somewhat regretful. It's not a smooth move that has her leaning to set her glass down, but it's completed without mishap. "I'm sorry," she says softly and sincerely, without clarifying about just what or why, once balanced is regained. Arms lift and reach in P'draig's direction, though she doesn't seem to have any further words to go with whatever she means by the gesture. << And they had better move quickly or the flame might get them, >> Elaruth points out, tracing a fuzzy line between a sequence of stars nearby to sketch out a pattern of flame as if produced by a dragon.
That expression of sympathy seems to surprise P'draig a little and he shakes his head, looks over at Hattie with brows raised for a moment. His glass is set aside though and he sits up, reaches forward to meet one of her hands halfway, fingers curling around hers gently. "It's all right, Hattie," he says simply and smiles over at her. "Though it is one of the reasons why I'm happy with what I do now. It's all about making people happy with good food. In a lot of ways, it's a hell of a lot simpler than ... well just about anything else." Jekzith adds sparks to the flames Elaruth draws and skips a mental stone over to another cluster of stars. << Fish darting beneath the waves! >>
Hattie twitches back a touch at raised brows, but doesn't retreat any further and carefully curls her fingers in turn. "I suppose it is. Not that I'd know where to start with it, mind. It must be... reassuring to know you can feel fulfilled by something else." She smiles ruefully, admitting, "I'm not sure that I would want to step back from this," she lifts the shoulder that her knot usually sits at, "even if it was really an option. I don't know what I'd do. I don't really know how to do anything else." Starry fish pointed out has Elaruth's attention wandering to the real ocean for a moment, yet she doesn't move. << I wonder if they can see the stars from beneath the water, >> she muses quietly.
"Yes. It's also good to be /able/ to do something else," P'draig answers and his fingers tighten around hers briefly then relax. "The interval allows it. If this were a Pass ..." his shoulders lift, drop again and then he laughs. "You know, I don't think I can imagine you /not/ managing people," he admits. "You're just a take-charge kind of person." Jekzith's attention drift to the water, following Elaruth's thoughts. << We can, so they probably can too. Do you want to go see? >>
"The interval allows much. Were we to be in a Pass, I expect that there would be much that I wouldn't allow that goes on now," the goldrider murmurs. Hattie retreats back then, if only with the aim of letting the brownrider slouch in his chair again. "I'm a piss people off with specifics kind of person," she states wryly. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened to me, were it not for Elaruth. It doesn't end well. I don't know if other riders are prone to the same thoughts." On the sand, the little queen considers the waves for a short while. << Perhaps. For a little while, >> Elaruth responds, beginning to uncurl.
"If this were a Pass, a lot of things would be different," P'draig says quietly and does slouch back in that chair, expression briefly, dark, gaze turning upward to the wooden rafters that support his roof. A tile roof. "Bore them to death with too much detail, is that you on a really bad day?" Paddy queries jokingly, the darkness sliding away, replaced by fond humor. "Don't sell yourself short, Hattie. You'd probably have also made an admirable headwoman, or lady. As for me, if I hadn't found Jekzith, I'd probably be doing exactly what I'm doing now, only not at Ista and not with some lingering rider's duties." Jekzith is quicker to his feet, stretching out swiftly and then trotting towards the water eagerly. He never lacks for energy this one. << All right! Race you down to where it's deep? >>
"Bad day? Who are you kidding - that's me on a good day," Hattie jokes in a low voice, shaking her head in such a fashion as to allow her to look away and therefore not reach back out when P'draig's expression shades dark, though her fingers curl. "It's not selling myself short," she says simply. "I'd have ended up married to some idiot and stuck in some tiny hold somewhere. That's how the world works." Attention strays in the general direction of dragons and she teases, "Maybe Jekzith will catch another queen one day." Slow to start yet quick to catch up, Elaruth pads after the brown and sends a splash of water his way with her tail once she's in the shallows. << You're on! >>
"Oh right, I forgot, on a bad day, it's worse," P'draig jokes back then blows out a breath. "In the end, who knows really? It's as likely you might've wound up lady of Fort," he remarks lightly. "Life isn't always terribly predictable." His gaze shifts over to the dragons though and a momentary flash of something like discomfort is discernible there. "Maybe," he answers slowly. "It'd make him happy to have a clutch again," he remarks neutrally then looks back over at Hattie. "Not Elaruth though." His voice lowers, tone even and the corner of his mouth pulls upward slightly. << Oh ho! Off we go! >> is Jekzith's delighted reply, a little bit of spray sent in answer to that splash and then he's all eeling his way through the shallows and down beneath darkened waves to find where it's deep enough for full on swimming.
"Given its former Lord, I sharding well hope not," Hattie declares with a fair amount of feeling, shivering. "But I suppose it might have been an option, if I had learned to shut up." She briefly looks away, expression perhaps letting on a mental flinch at now repeated putting of feet in places. "Not Elaruth," the goldrider agrees when she glances back. "Unless you have secret designs on Weyrleader. That and, well, I don't think it's likely that she'll let anyone but Mecaith catch her now." It might be a race, but Elaruth still takes her time until she can really swim, when she ducks beneath the waves and vanishes with a wave of her white-gold tailtip. However, progress is slowed by investigation; she looks up every now and then to see if she can still see stars.
"I was thinking more of his brother," P'draig amends. "Based on what I've heard, I wouldn't have wished that usurper on anyone." Breath out and it's Paddy's turn to lean forward, hand aimed for Hattie's arm to press there reassuringly. "No, I don't and never have. Besides, brownriders /can't/ be Weyrleader," he says with a little shrug though that revelation lifts his brows again. "Really? They're that close?" Jekzith arrows on out deeper and deeper, clearly having fun with the race concept. He stops finally though, turns about and looks upward too. << They're fuzzier, >> is his conclusion about stars through water.
"Hundreds of eventualities for hundreds of different paths..." Hattie murmurs. "Even if only slightly different." One hand lifts to cover P'draig's for a moment and she smiles ruefully again. "It's... difficult to explain. There's been something there for turns, but then there couldn't really be and..." She hesitates, trying to think of another way to word it, and, upon not finding one, rushes on with, "If you believe that dragons can love like people love each other, then Elaruth loves Mecaith." Embarrassment? Check. But whilst she's in that zone, she suggests, "Come and lie in this hammock with me and I'll stop blathering on at you? I might even fall asleep on you." Out in the water, Elaruth slows to float for a while, considering the faraway sky. << I think I can see three of the same star, with the ripples. >>
"I can believe that they can, yes," P'draig says quietly, smiling again and he nods. "I'm glad she's happy then, if it's something she's wanted for a long time. Jekzith ... well he loves everyone, pretty much. Though he does have some he's especially fond of." Hattie's request however, is answered by hesitation and Paddy's hand retreats, expression uncertain. He looks out toward the beach, dark but for the star light and moon light, then he pushes up out of the chair, presses the edge of the hammock down to steady it and rolls into it with the ease of much practice. "Here, lift up your head?" he suggests, offering his arm for a pillow. Jekzith looks up through the water and draws some mental lines. << It's the same ... but different. A different view. >> He blows out some bubbles, then starts to rise up toward the surface.
Hattie looks up and away again; starts to say something that doesn't make it past the first syllable and in the end opts to shut up and not go blundering on with anything else. All she does is lift her head and curl up as close as she's allowed or dares to, like she'd apologize for remarks made without thinking the only way she can manage to without making a mess of it. She might even pretend to sleep for a while, but doesn't, for the knot to eventually call her back with a handful of quiet words in parting. For the next while, Elaruth floats and bobs along on the surface of the ocean, companionably close to Jekzith before the desire to return to her Weyr pulls her back just like duty calls her rider.
P'draig settles comfortably after a little while, not averse to closeness. His arm circles Hattie's shoulders lightly and he's silent for the duration, mimicking dragons by looking out beyond the edge of the roof toward the starry sky. Those quiet words are answered with a brief kiss, pressed to her forehead and P'draig releases Hattie back to those duties. He stands to watch Fort's Weyrwoman off, waves from the porch as she and Elaruth head off into the night then returns to the hammock and abandoned hides for a time until bed calls, while Jekzith slowly dries off on the beach.