Today, in T’kar’s opinion, was not going well. Seriously not going well. All because…
“Shard it! Rilora, I was completely drunk! I’ve apologized to both of you! Several times!” His voice was louder than he might have preferred, but, the door was shut, and, unfortunately, was thick enough that having a normal-voiced conversation through it bordered on impossible.
Confused, Star tried to settle on his person’s shoulder. Why was his person upset and angry? Why was the door shut? This door was never shut to his person.
“Star, cut it out!” T’kar snapped. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Rilora, please open this door,” T’kar said, forcing his voice back to a more normal volume. It wasn’t fair. Just this morning he’d had everything worked out, planned, in hand, and now? Now he couldn’t even get Rilora to let him talk to her.
"I don't want to hear it any more, T'kar!" the distressed voice from within shouted back. She was curled up with Bel, a heap on the floor. All afternoon she had alternated between hard sobbing and numbly laying there. Needless to say Bel was rather distressed about her human and hadn't hardly left her side.
Archith had tried to comfort her at first, but their differences of opinion about relationships quickly made the conversation hard and so, for the moment, they weren't speaking. Archith had tried to make sure it was known that she meant the best for her Rider, and then communications went quiet.
"No, I'm not going to open it," she mumbled into the floor. She had already run the spectrum of shock, anger, and crying several times. Would they start over or just leave her adrift without feeling? Bel shifted to curl up tighter against her stomach. That spot. The one that with another held T'kar's child, but not hers. And she was without guidance on Weyr matters for men, for families. She had only learned the Hold way. They didn't match. She had a most important job, one she couldn't even do right.
It had been quiet for too long now. She rolled to her other side, Bel mewed protest to being exposed to the cooler air. He had to still be there though. It just felt so. She wanted to tell him again to go away, but she didn't want him yelling any more and she felt like yelling too. She slid slowly up to the door. Bel curled up in her lap. She didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to be awake any more, didn't want to be reminded of her inadequacies in every aspect of her life. "Go away."
"I have nothing to say to you," Rilora stated and continued staring at the floor. She felt like she was repeating herself. Maybe she had said this before. The words started to run together after a while. Just like the sets of tears, the alternating anger and sadness.
If there is something you must understand Ancalanath, it is that the ways of humans are not the ways of dragons. Archith's voice was just cold of neutral. There were such voracious whirlpools of emotion in Rilora that Archith could not sort out one sorrow from the other. They were all there. The present ones, those from the past, ones that weren't and might never be. They were all there. It would take much time for hers to restore order to them. With a little more warmth she added, I don't believe there's anything you can do.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jan 1, 2014 6:28:30 GMT -8
T’kar was, in a rare occurrence, completely unsure of what to do next. Without even thinking about it, he slid down so he was sitting, not next to her, but not across from her either. Rather at about a 45 degree angle or so. He started to reach towards her shoulder, then checked his hand about halfway there, though he didn’t withdraw it. He opened his mouth, closed it again, took a deep breath.
She watched his hand with narrowed eyes. She felt the bristle in her shoulders relax when he stayed his hand. He was sitting now. That felt less threatening, she was mad, scared for them,...it all was stupid. But she felt less vulnerable on the floor now that he was sitting too.
"I can't do this, T'kar." Bel had shifted to the floor near her. Rilora drew her legs up and hugged them to her chest. "I can't talk about this today. I...I don't think you can either. Just...can you just acknowledge I've heard your speech like ten times already and I need some time? Maybe in a while we can talk about this. Give it some sevendays, time to think. ...I'm sorry. But the things you're saying, they can't fix this like a LifeWing song and like nugfth-" she choked on the fluids that ran down her throat. She managed them, a cough. She fought off the sadness, tried to find the numbness again. It was like shifting in bed, trying to sleep, and no position was comfortable. Mad, sad, numb. Repeat.
"We're the Weyrleaders." She tried to speak out those implications but she couldn't do it. She was supposed to be a farm girl, well, woman by now, with her own family and some fascinating plants and crop projects to work on. This was a long way from that, her job now. Unlike other Pernese, she didn't have the luxury of declining it. "...I'll let you know when I'm ready to talk." She stood and put a hand on the door. She wanted to close it, but the Weyr had heard enough yelling for the day. She hoped he would agree to wait, hurt now, heal, and then maybe, just maybe they could try and sort this out. She swayed lightly on her feet, exhaustion rolling over her, reasserting its hold on her. She needed only to sleep now. "...okay?"