Log: Unavoidable Hazard
Who: Hattie, Palia, {Elaruth}
When: It is a summer afternoon, 14:59 of day 22, month 7, turn 34 of Interval 10.
Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr
What: Another extremely awkward exchange between Weyrwoman and Apprentice. Echoes of the first time Hattie and Palia met.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 73 F Today's Lo/Hi: 64 F / 86 F
Belior: last quarter Timor: waxing crescent
Weather: Partly Cloudy
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Warm and pleasant, puffy clouds that get chased by the winds into wispy
brushes against a bright blue sky, the summer weather is a little on the
warm side late in the day but all-around tolerable.
>-----------------------------------< 14:59 D22 M7 T34, summer afternoon >---<
Since the fire, the traffic in the bowl doesn't seem to truly die down anymore, and whether it's people clearing up after lunch, weyrlings in training, or groups of people chatting under the cover of the newly set-up tents, there's always /something/ going on. Elaruth's ledge affords the senior queen a decent view of it all, and so this afternoon the pale queen is lying lined up along the edge of the shelf of rock, keeping an eye on things with a focus belied by her relaxed posture. It looks like her rider is on her way to join her, Hattie's path from the caverns taking her towards the stairs. Shame about the soot, that clings to her clothes, hair and is smudged across most of her face.
Even in the wake of tragedy, kids often seem to bounce back easiest and the gaggle that emerge from the direction of the lake shore heading for the tents are full of chatter and energy. Looks like the younger cohort of students in harper classes were just dismissed for the afternoon, as evidenced by Palia bringing up the rear, an armload of slates tucked under one arm, satchel bulging with rolled up hides and spare instruments. The cymbals on one of the tambourines poking up out of the bag tinkles merrily as she walks, gait rendered uneven by the weight of the bag. It's the kids Palia is keeping an eye on, so she doesn't realize her path leads directly across the Weyrwoman's until they've nearly reached each other. "Good afternoon, Weyrwoman," the apprentice offers politely.
Hattie's focus is either on her queen and likely a conversation with her, or she's so completely set on getting home before too many people see her in the state she's in that she doesn't even notice Palia for who she is until she begins to utter an automatic response. "Afternoon," that's when she actually has to focus on the person speaking to her, and thus when her tone alters from weary to distant and formal, "Apprentice." She lifts a hand to paw at some of the soot smudged across her cheek, but she only ends up adding another stripe across her nose as her steps slow to avoid a collision. "They don't look too upset anymore," she remarks. She must mean the kids.
"It's a nice day out and we covered one of the more fun teaching songs," Palia agrees with a nod towards the children. "Go on then!" she lifts her voice after the last straggler, "make sure to get a drink!" She waits a moment, shifting the heavy back on her shoulder. "They worked hard today." A slight pause ensues before Palia rummages a crumpled but clean hanky ouf of her pocket. "You ah --" she starts awkwardly, clears her throat and gestures to her own face for the sooty mask.
Not so far away, Elaruth has ceased to try and observe as much as she can of the bowl at once, but has transferred her attention to the young woman in-front of her rider, her head tilted, eyes slowly whirling a deep shade of blue. Recognition? Or something else? Hattie's dark eyes dart to one side, like she would turn to her queen, but ultimately doesn't. "I--" she starts to say, only then Palia's found that clean hanky and she doesn't seem quite sure what to do about it. "I know," she claims, like acknowledging the state of her face makes her look less stupid. "Unavoidable hazard."
"Yes," Palia agrees simply about the unavoidable hazard of soot. "I'll be helping with cleanup a bit later." The hanky is still held out, though the angle of the apprentice's arm starts to wane when it's not taken. "Would you like me to get the worst off your nose? Unless --" she casts a look ledgewards. Oh, of course, you were on your way in to wash up." A note of rue threads through Palia's tone, likely for the perceived faux pas.
Slowly, Hattie reaches out to snag one of the edges of the hanky with the tips of her fingers, as if she's not really sure she's meant to take it, despite evidence to the contrary. "It's all right; you don't need to mother me," she tells her, trying to be practical and gentle at the same time, only her poor choice of phrasing catches up with her a half-second later and the sharp sigh that she gives is visible from the sharp twitch of her shoulders, though it's not audible. She relinquishes her grip on the hanky almost immediately, regardless of the fact that it might fall, and folds her arms, retreating back into her own space. If only not to lapse into utter silence, she offers a stilted, "Elaruth says hello."
Embarrassment gives way to something else, more complicated and Palia looks away across the bowl, which means the hanky falls into the dusty, compact earth at their feet. "Of course, ma'am." A like retreat. The harper's shoulder shifts, hefting her bag up again. It's heavy and keeps sliding downward. Gray eyes skip back to Hattie and past her once more to the ledge where Elaruth sits and briefly a true, warm smile carves a deep dimple into Palia's cheek and she lifts a hand in the gold's direction. "Hullo Elaruth. The sun is nice today, isn't it?"
Over on her ledge, Elaruth is still definitely watching Palia, and the apprentice's wave receives on in turn, of a sorts. The little queen lifts her tail from its lazy drape and curl over the edge of the rock, to wave the white-gold tip of said tail, flag-like, in return. She even begins to lift up onto her paws, but a quick glance from Hattie effectively stalls that motion, and keeps her frozen and /watching/. "...Look, I'll... stay out of your way," the Weyrwoman starts to say, especially after her gaze finds the strap of that bag and fixes it with something like a longing to help and put it right. "As best I can. I'm afraid you can't avoid my children, but they won't..." Hattie gives a tight shrug.
Elaruth's return 'wave' widens Palia's smile and something eases in her shoulders as she interacts with the dragon, but Hattie's voice brings her attention back to the Weyrwoman and the openness of the apprentice's expression fades back into careful reserve followed shortly by puzzlement. "I don't want to avoid them," she says after a moment, something like her former bluntness re-surfacing, though time and training have tempered what she might have said otherwise. "Nor you." Briefly her expression betrays frustration and she notices her fallen hanky, bends to pick it up and in the process the satchel loses its grip and slides down her arm, thuds to the ground with a tinkle-and-clang and a squishy creak of old leather.
Hattie reaches to try and stop that satchel ending up on the ground, but her hesitation finds her too late to successfully grab at the strap and attempt to support the weight of the bag itself. She hovers close for a few moments, unsure of what to do, then steps back again and loosely re-knots her arms. Dignified, she does not look, mostly thanks to the sooty smudges, but that she's biting down on her bottom lip doesn't do her any favours either. "Then you need to tell me... who you want." Like she has a list of personas. "Because I look at you and I want to treat you like Gethin or Nimarie, like you're one of mine, but you can't want that."
A low cuss escapes Palia as her hand closes around the now-dusty hanky and her bag thuds to the ground. Gray eyes lift up to the Weyrwoman, expression shuttered at first, then opening up to reveal familiar vulnerability. "You of all people, should understand that I'm trying to do my duty. I'm a posted apprentice. I have to behave ..." a hand gesture expresses frustration as much as her tone of voice, "appropriately." The satchel's strap is abandoned, the hanky stuffed back into her pocket as Palia straightens and her arms fold across her chest. "I don't know how this is supposed to work. But I can't pretend like the last ten turns of my life didn't happen either."
Hattie reaches to try and stop that satchel ending up on the ground, but her hesitation finds her too late to successfully grab at the strap and attempt to support the weight of the bag itself. She hovers close for a few moments, unsure of what to do, then steps back again and loosely re-knots her arms. Dignified, she does not look, mostly thanks to the sooty smudges, but that she's biting down on her bottom lip doesn't do her any favours either. "Then you need to tell me... who you want." Like she has a list of personas. "Because I look at you and I want to treat you like Gethin or Nimarie, like you're one of mine, but you can't want that."
A low cuss escapes Palia as her hand closes around the now-dusty hanky and her bag thuds to the ground. Gray eyes lift up to the Weyrwoman, expression shuttered at first, then opening up to reveal familiar vulnerability. "You of all people, should understand that I'm trying to do my duty. I'm a posted apprentice. I have to behave ..." a hand gesture expresses frustration as much as her tone of voice, "appropriately." The satchel's strap is abandoned, the hanky stuffed back into her pocket as Palia straightens and her arms fold across her chest. "I don't know how this is supposed to work. But I can't pretend like the last ten turns of my life didn't happen either."
"Frankly, unless I take exception to your behaviour during the execution of those duties, I don't think we're going to have a problem," Hattie says bluntly. "If you don't do your job, you don't teach well, and you react poorly if I ever have to call you up on anything regarding your posting here, then I'll kick you into next sevenday, like I would any other apprentice who back-talks their Weyrwoman." She can't mean that literally. "But, right now, person to person, it hurts to look at you. So, maybe for my own sake, I should stay out of your way." Hattie shakes her head a little, and, that short way off, Elaruth flops back to the ledge. "I told you when you were little that I couldn't make you any promises."
It's pretty typical of Palia to wait things out in silence, listening, watching. Briefly a smile ghosts across her face when Hattie mentions kicking into next sevenday, but it's not until Hattie's finished that the harper's posture shifts, a slight softening in her stance. "I remember," she answers, gaze level on the Weyrwoman's face. The silence stretches out for long seconds, ends in a quiet question: "Do you really -- still think of me as one of yours?"
Hattie swallows hard and absently swipes the back of her right hand across her face, which only moves around and adds some more soot to her dark features. "I wanted to keep you," she murmurs, which has her suddenly looking away and off at some unfixed point in the distance. "I wanted to tell you-- But it wasn't fair. I couldn't be your mother and not be with your father; it would just have hurt more people. And I don't expect you would have wanted that, anyway." She swallows again and blinks her eyes wide. "Just because I fell out of love with your father, it didn't mean that I stopped loving /you/."
A lot of suppressed emotion plays out across Palia's face as Hattie speaks. The last statement though is what spurs motion, the harper seeking to close the distance between them, arms reaching for an embrace. Vehemently: "You should have told me."
That... is clearly not the reaction that Hattie is expecting, her figure tensed and balance just that tiny bit off, to aid the need to turn on a heel and bolt. When she doesn't have to comply with that instinct, she reaches automatically for Palia, arms moving with the intent of wrapping tightly around her. "I /couldn't/," she insists, though much of it might be muffled into the apprentice's shoulder.
"I /needed/ to hear that!" Palia protests angrily, though the anger is tempered by an edge of old, child-like desperation and neediness. She doesn't let go or break away and her head drops to the older woman's shoulder. A muffled sob escapes the younger woman and her shoulders start to shake.
Hattie closes her eyes and just keeps her arms wrapped tightly around Palia, then tips her head a little to rest it against hers. "And if I had, you would have hoped, and your father would have hoped, and it... it wouldn't have been fair," she murmurs, determined to keep her quiet voice steady, though she doesn't quite get through it without that stammer. "I couldn't. Not when he loves you so much. I couldn't... keep a part of you from him." Her battle with tears is a lost one, but silent; hidden as best she can.
"Not saying anything wasn't fair /either/!" Palia finally exclaims through tears, and releases the Weyrwoman, attempts to step back and collect herself, hands swiping at her face. A few deep breaths help at least and she casts a quick look around the immediate area. "I get that you didn't want to be with him anymore, but saying /something/ would have been so much better than nothing," the apprentice states bleakly. "This -- this isn't the time or place for the rest of this conversation. I'm expected by my journeyman and you --" she gestures haphazardly toward the Weyrwoman's face "-- you need to wash up!" It might be almost comical how she says that.
Hattie just as easily lets Palia go when she seeks to step back, and stands there without protest to accept those accusations, not opening her mouth even once to argue. She nods, agreeing or acknowledging both what's said of the past and of present, immediate circumstances, and then starts to turn like she'd move off and retreat back to Elaruth and her weyr without another word. However, she pauses before she moves away, and reaches out with the aim of touching her thumb to the line of Palia's jaw, where soot may have transferred itself. Still, she says nothing, until she darts forward and means to throw one arm around the apprentice's shoulders as she murmurs, "I /do/ love you," just to make it clear, having used so much of the past tense. With the same speed, she moves back and turns away, to approach the steps up to her weyr at a clip.
When: It is a summer afternoon, 14:59 of day 22, month 7, turn 34 of Interval 10.
Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr
What: Another extremely awkward exchange between Weyrwoman and Apprentice. Echoes of the first time Hattie and Palia met.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 73 F Today's Lo/Hi: 64 F / 86 F
Belior: last quarter Timor: waxing crescent
Weather: Partly Cloudy
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Warm and pleasant, puffy clouds that get chased by the winds into wispy
brushes against a bright blue sky, the summer weather is a little on the
warm side late in the day but all-around tolerable.
>-----------------------------------< 14:59 D22 M7 T34, summer afternoon >---<
Since the fire, the traffic in the bowl doesn't seem to truly die down anymore, and whether it's people clearing up after lunch, weyrlings in training, or groups of people chatting under the cover of the newly set-up tents, there's always /something/ going on. Elaruth's ledge affords the senior queen a decent view of it all, and so this afternoon the pale queen is lying lined up along the edge of the shelf of rock, keeping an eye on things with a focus belied by her relaxed posture. It looks like her rider is on her way to join her, Hattie's path from the caverns taking her towards the stairs. Shame about the soot, that clings to her clothes, hair and is smudged across most of her face.
Even in the wake of tragedy, kids often seem to bounce back easiest and the gaggle that emerge from the direction of the lake shore heading for the tents are full of chatter and energy. Looks like the younger cohort of students in harper classes were just dismissed for the afternoon, as evidenced by Palia bringing up the rear, an armload of slates tucked under one arm, satchel bulging with rolled up hides and spare instruments. The cymbals on one of the tambourines poking up out of the bag tinkles merrily as she walks, gait rendered uneven by the weight of the bag. It's the kids Palia is keeping an eye on, so she doesn't realize her path leads directly across the Weyrwoman's until they've nearly reached each other. "Good afternoon, Weyrwoman," the apprentice offers politely.
Hattie's focus is either on her queen and likely a conversation with her, or she's so completely set on getting home before too many people see her in the state she's in that she doesn't even notice Palia for who she is until she begins to utter an automatic response. "Afternoon," that's when she actually has to focus on the person speaking to her, and thus when her tone alters from weary to distant and formal, "Apprentice." She lifts a hand to paw at some of the soot smudged across her cheek, but she only ends up adding another stripe across her nose as her steps slow to avoid a collision. "They don't look too upset anymore," she remarks. She must mean the kids.
"It's a nice day out and we covered one of the more fun teaching songs," Palia agrees with a nod towards the children. "Go on then!" she lifts her voice after the last straggler, "make sure to get a drink!" She waits a moment, shifting the heavy back on her shoulder. "They worked hard today." A slight pause ensues before Palia rummages a crumpled but clean hanky ouf of her pocket. "You ah --" she starts awkwardly, clears her throat and gestures to her own face for the sooty mask.
Not so far away, Elaruth has ceased to try and observe as much as she can of the bowl at once, but has transferred her attention to the young woman in-front of her rider, her head tilted, eyes slowly whirling a deep shade of blue. Recognition? Or something else? Hattie's dark eyes dart to one side, like she would turn to her queen, but ultimately doesn't. "I--" she starts to say, only then Palia's found that clean hanky and she doesn't seem quite sure what to do about it. "I know," she claims, like acknowledging the state of her face makes her look less stupid. "Unavoidable hazard."
"Yes," Palia agrees simply about the unavoidable hazard of soot. "I'll be helping with cleanup a bit later." The hanky is still held out, though the angle of the apprentice's arm starts to wane when it's not taken. "Would you like me to get the worst off your nose? Unless --" she casts a look ledgewards. Oh, of course, you were on your way in to wash up." A note of rue threads through Palia's tone, likely for the perceived faux pas.
Slowly, Hattie reaches out to snag one of the edges of the hanky with the tips of her fingers, as if she's not really sure she's meant to take it, despite evidence to the contrary. "It's all right; you don't need to mother me," she tells her, trying to be practical and gentle at the same time, only her poor choice of phrasing catches up with her a half-second later and the sharp sigh that she gives is visible from the sharp twitch of her shoulders, though it's not audible. She relinquishes her grip on the hanky almost immediately, regardless of the fact that it might fall, and folds her arms, retreating back into her own space. If only not to lapse into utter silence, she offers a stilted, "Elaruth says hello."
Embarrassment gives way to something else, more complicated and Palia looks away across the bowl, which means the hanky falls into the dusty, compact earth at their feet. "Of course, ma'am." A like retreat. The harper's shoulder shifts, hefting her bag up again. It's heavy and keeps sliding downward. Gray eyes skip back to Hattie and past her once more to the ledge where Elaruth sits and briefly a true, warm smile carves a deep dimple into Palia's cheek and she lifts a hand in the gold's direction. "Hullo Elaruth. The sun is nice today, isn't it?"
Over on her ledge, Elaruth is still definitely watching Palia, and the apprentice's wave receives on in turn, of a sorts. The little queen lifts her tail from its lazy drape and curl over the edge of the rock, to wave the white-gold tip of said tail, flag-like, in return. She even begins to lift up onto her paws, but a quick glance from Hattie effectively stalls that motion, and keeps her frozen and /watching/. "...Look, I'll... stay out of your way," the Weyrwoman starts to say, especially after her gaze finds the strap of that bag and fixes it with something like a longing to help and put it right. "As best I can. I'm afraid you can't avoid my children, but they won't..." Hattie gives a tight shrug.
Elaruth's return 'wave' widens Palia's smile and something eases in her shoulders as she interacts with the dragon, but Hattie's voice brings her attention back to the Weyrwoman and the openness of the apprentice's expression fades back into careful reserve followed shortly by puzzlement. "I don't want to avoid them," she says after a moment, something like her former bluntness re-surfacing, though time and training have tempered what she might have said otherwise. "Nor you." Briefly her expression betrays frustration and she notices her fallen hanky, bends to pick it up and in the process the satchel loses its grip and slides down her arm, thuds to the ground with a tinkle-and-clang and a squishy creak of old leather.
Hattie reaches to try and stop that satchel ending up on the ground, but her hesitation finds her too late to successfully grab at the strap and attempt to support the weight of the bag itself. She hovers close for a few moments, unsure of what to do, then steps back again and loosely re-knots her arms. Dignified, she does not look, mostly thanks to the sooty smudges, but that she's biting down on her bottom lip doesn't do her any favours either. "Then you need to tell me... who you want." Like she has a list of personas. "Because I look at you and I want to treat you like Gethin or Nimarie, like you're one of mine, but you can't want that."
A low cuss escapes Palia as her hand closes around the now-dusty hanky and her bag thuds to the ground. Gray eyes lift up to the Weyrwoman, expression shuttered at first, then opening up to reveal familiar vulnerability. "You of all people, should understand that I'm trying to do my duty. I'm a posted apprentice. I have to behave ..." a hand gesture expresses frustration as much as her tone of voice, "appropriately." The satchel's strap is abandoned, the hanky stuffed back into her pocket as Palia straightens and her arms fold across her chest. "I don't know how this is supposed to work. But I can't pretend like the last ten turns of my life didn't happen either."
Hattie reaches to try and stop that satchel ending up on the ground, but her hesitation finds her too late to successfully grab at the strap and attempt to support the weight of the bag itself. She hovers close for a few moments, unsure of what to do, then steps back again and loosely re-knots her arms. Dignified, she does not look, mostly thanks to the sooty smudges, but that she's biting down on her bottom lip doesn't do her any favours either. "Then you need to tell me... who you want." Like she has a list of personas. "Because I look at you and I want to treat you like Gethin or Nimarie, like you're one of mine, but you can't want that."
A low cuss escapes Palia as her hand closes around the now-dusty hanky and her bag thuds to the ground. Gray eyes lift up to the Weyrwoman, expression shuttered at first, then opening up to reveal familiar vulnerability. "You of all people, should understand that I'm trying to do my duty. I'm a posted apprentice. I have to behave ..." a hand gesture expresses frustration as much as her tone of voice, "appropriately." The satchel's strap is abandoned, the hanky stuffed back into her pocket as Palia straightens and her arms fold across her chest. "I don't know how this is supposed to work. But I can't pretend like the last ten turns of my life didn't happen either."
"Frankly, unless I take exception to your behaviour during the execution of those duties, I don't think we're going to have a problem," Hattie says bluntly. "If you don't do your job, you don't teach well, and you react poorly if I ever have to call you up on anything regarding your posting here, then I'll kick you into next sevenday, like I would any other apprentice who back-talks their Weyrwoman." She can't mean that literally. "But, right now, person to person, it hurts to look at you. So, maybe for my own sake, I should stay out of your way." Hattie shakes her head a little, and, that short way off, Elaruth flops back to the ledge. "I told you when you were little that I couldn't make you any promises."
It's pretty typical of Palia to wait things out in silence, listening, watching. Briefly a smile ghosts across her face when Hattie mentions kicking into next sevenday, but it's not until Hattie's finished that the harper's posture shifts, a slight softening in her stance. "I remember," she answers, gaze level on the Weyrwoman's face. The silence stretches out for long seconds, ends in a quiet question: "Do you really -- still think of me as one of yours?"
Hattie swallows hard and absently swipes the back of her right hand across her face, which only moves around and adds some more soot to her dark features. "I wanted to keep you," she murmurs, which has her suddenly looking away and off at some unfixed point in the distance. "I wanted to tell you-- But it wasn't fair. I couldn't be your mother and not be with your father; it would just have hurt more people. And I don't expect you would have wanted that, anyway." She swallows again and blinks her eyes wide. "Just because I fell out of love with your father, it didn't mean that I stopped loving /you/."
A lot of suppressed emotion plays out across Palia's face as Hattie speaks. The last statement though is what spurs motion, the harper seeking to close the distance between them, arms reaching for an embrace. Vehemently: "You should have told me."
That... is clearly not the reaction that Hattie is expecting, her figure tensed and balance just that tiny bit off, to aid the need to turn on a heel and bolt. When she doesn't have to comply with that instinct, she reaches automatically for Palia, arms moving with the intent of wrapping tightly around her. "I /couldn't/," she insists, though much of it might be muffled into the apprentice's shoulder.
"I /needed/ to hear that!" Palia protests angrily, though the anger is tempered by an edge of old, child-like desperation and neediness. She doesn't let go or break away and her head drops to the older woman's shoulder. A muffled sob escapes the younger woman and her shoulders start to shake.
Hattie closes her eyes and just keeps her arms wrapped tightly around Palia, then tips her head a little to rest it against hers. "And if I had, you would have hoped, and your father would have hoped, and it... it wouldn't have been fair," she murmurs, determined to keep her quiet voice steady, though she doesn't quite get through it without that stammer. "I couldn't. Not when he loves you so much. I couldn't... keep a part of you from him." Her battle with tears is a lost one, but silent; hidden as best she can.
"Not saying anything wasn't fair /either/!" Palia finally exclaims through tears, and releases the Weyrwoman, attempts to step back and collect herself, hands swiping at her face. A few deep breaths help at least and she casts a quick look around the immediate area. "I get that you didn't want to be with him anymore, but saying /something/ would have been so much better than nothing," the apprentice states bleakly. "This -- this isn't the time or place for the rest of this conversation. I'm expected by my journeyman and you --" she gestures haphazardly toward the Weyrwoman's face "-- you need to wash up!" It might be almost comical how she says that.
Hattie just as easily lets Palia go when she seeks to step back, and stands there without protest to accept those accusations, not opening her mouth even once to argue. She nods, agreeing or acknowledging both what's said of the past and of present, immediate circumstances, and then starts to turn like she'd move off and retreat back to Elaruth and her weyr without another word. However, she pauses before she moves away, and reaches out with the aim of touching her thumb to the line of Palia's jaw, where soot may have transferred itself. Still, she says nothing, until she darts forward and means to throw one arm around the apprentice's shoulders as she murmurs, "I /do/ love you," just to make it clear, having used so much of the past tense. With the same speed, she moves back and turns away, to approach the steps up to her weyr at a clip.