It's the Boys I don't Trust

Halimeda's Room

How ever Halimeda usually keeps her room when she's the singular occupant, at the moment it looks like a bomb went off in it. Probably totally Darsce's fault. Both cots - at least one of them unmade are entirely covered with clothes, the lone dresser is cluttered with bottles and jars and strewn jewelry. The closet doors stand open as if ready to be rummaged through at a moment's notice.

It’s midmorning, nearly lunchtime and from the room of Halimeda comes the sounds of an indistinguishable conversation. Clinks and rattling ensues amongst punctuated muttering as things are sifted though and then a brief silence before the conversation continues.

D'had could just barge in, but at least he has sense enough not to. No, instead of that he dies knock on the partly open door to announce that someone is outside before pushing it open a little further to see just who's inside. "Mornin'?"

He's fortunate no one was dressing and therefore there is no girlish scream at the sound of a male voice, although there's a hastily-swallowed gasp from within. There's only Darsce there, settled on her bed with her back against the headboard, fingernail kit beside her and her hairbrush in hand. It looks like she's barely awake, though she is dressed, since her hair is a tumbled mess (yeah she totally missed breakfast). Appearances are she's just about to launch into some serious nail maintenance once she's finished with her hair brushing. Her mouth is open to say 'come in' but he's already walking in so all that comes out is a little squeaked, "Oh… hi," before she drops her eyes.

It’s not like the door was closed tight or anything. It moved when he knocked and then he just helped it a little further. "Mornin' sunshine," D'had repeats his greeting. She might have missed breakfast, but at least he brought her a mug of fresh, hot klah which he offers over after traversing the obstacle course of clothes. "Mind if I sit down?"

Probably left that way by the departing Halimeda while Darsce was sound asleep, head buried under her pillow to muffle out the light and any sounds her sister might have made while getting ready for the day. And thus, unnoticed, but disaster (at least it would have been in Darsce's mind) has been averted by sheer luck in timing. She's already begun applying brush to hair as her father walks in, so she merely gestures to the bed and then the nearby stuffed chair with the brush in her hand before continuing to attack the tangles of the long, silky mass. Said chair is as covered with discarded clothing as floor and bed are and she's groggy - or oblivious enough to overlook the mess. "If you want-" There's a mug in her field of view and so she absently trades her brush for the mug. "Thanks, Daddy." It borders on sullen, the naughty teen. Still sulking.

"Welcome baby," D'had replies, shoving a few things out of his way to take a seat on the bed beside her. There's awkward silence for a long moment before he finally speaks again. "I'm sorry kiddo."

Darsce takes a long, long sip of that klah, both hands wrapped around her mug while her eyes close to ward off the steam. She keeps it there for a few beats, inhaling the aroma - a stimulant to wake her perhaps - after he's spoken before the mug is set down on the bedside stand, teeters unevenly on a pair of earrings there. She doesn't notice that precarious balance of the mug because she's busy blinking rapidly all of the sudden. There's no reply as she turns her head and holds out a hand for her brush, palm up. The subtle hint of moisture sparkles as her lashes lift but only as far as the brush he's holding. There's a curious vulnerability to the curve of her lower lip, a note of confusion to her awkward, "Why, Daddy?" Not why is he sorry. Why? Why did he… go there the other day?

D'had holds the brush out to her if she wants it, though he does offer "Can do it for ya…" A strange combination of question and offer like he's not sure where to go next. "Didn't mean anything bad ‘bout you by any of it," he attempts to apologize for their previous conversation.

There's still a little girl in this young woman, a kid who isn't quite ready to bid childhood farewell, even though she speeds purposefully and perhaps too quickly towards adulthood. It's plain in the longing that fills her blue eyes as she lifts them to his face, the wish to crawl into his lap, lean her head on his shoulder and be safe from the world. "I'd like that," she says simply, turning her back to him and scooting closer so he can brush her hair as he must have surely done when she was a young child. He did, didn't he? She leans to reach for her mug, nearly overturning it as it wobbles at her touch, then eases back and waits for him to start brushing. "It sounded pretty bad to me," she retorts, although the words carry far less resentment than they do bewilderment.

Oh, he did. Perhaps not as often as he should have, but he did at least once or twice at very least. A hint of a smile quirks his lips once her back is turned to him. Lifting brush to hair he goes slowly, trying not to pull too hard through any tangles. "Mighta jumped at ya too soon." He's trying to apologize anyway. "Just… well I wanna make sure my little girl is taken care of and gets what she wants." He was ready to beat up whoever it was after all. Its one of those awkward conversations for sure, but then he's never been one for much talking.

Perhaps it's the dim memory of this that prompts Darsce to say softly after a moment or two, as that brush moves through her hair, "When Momma used to yank through it, I missed having you do it." How much that simple statement says of her longing for him after he'd left! The line of her shoulders relaxes with that admission. "I want… " The teen stops, covers the realization that she really doesn't yet know what she wants with another long draught of her klah then cradles the lowered mug in her lap. "I know, Daddy. And I love you for that." She'd likely guessed from the growled way he'd asked her that knocked up question the other day that the guy would have hell to pay. The thought, despite her insulted feelings even now causing a fond smile for her father to curve her mouth. She does blurt a semi-reassurance for him, "Hali's not pregnant, by the way, and no, I didn't ask her but you don't want to know how I know that!" Thankfully she's facing so he can't see the flush to her ivory complexion. "Still wanna know why you'd think I was pregnant. Did someone start a rumor?"

D'had chuckles softly, not quite sure how to reply to that first comment of hers so he just doesn't say anything to it as he continues to gently pull that brush through her hair. "Sure I don't," he agrees on the knowledge that his oldest daughter isn't going to have a baby anytime soon. As for the blonde in front of him, "I was your age once," he explains, "and I seen how ya look at some of the boys. And the way they look at you."

It's a flustered flash of blue eyes amidst strands of silvery gold that is turned over her shoulder to stare at her father, cheeks having turned brighter at this observation. There are just two blinks before she hastily turns back around. Yeahno. She can't have this conversation while facing him. Her question contains just enough honest confusion in it not to be disrespectful, "So… what? You just assumed I'm jumping in the sack with causal abandon with whoever gives me the eye?" She snorts her holdbred disdain for that notion. "You could have asked me if I was pregnant! And if I find out who started the rumor I'll-" She'll think of something! Trust her.

"No," D'had assures. He does not think she's sleeping with everyone who makes eyes at her. "But yer right, shoulda asked. Ain't an excuse, but haven't been thinkin' so clear lately." He's been hurting after that slip of the knife he had and avoiding his own issues. "Ain't no one started anything that I knowa." He went and jumped to his own conclusions. "I trust ya baby," he comments with a ruffle of her hair, "it’s the boys I don't."

Darsce lets out a long sigh, releasing a tension she didn't know she'd been hanging onto and simply leans back against him, bright head on his shoulder as she leaves a kiss on his rough cheek. "I forgive you, Daddy Darling. And if it helps, Momma warned me allllllll about guys like you." She sits back up but leaves a saucy wink in the wake of that pronouncement. It's a sly tease; her mother may not have said any such thing at all. And yes, it's only now that she reaches for his hurt hand and asks, "How's that hand? Feeling good enough to pay my half-brother a visit with me when I go ask N'shen if he's pregnant?" There's a glimmer of imp in her smirked question.

D'had chuckles. He's almost afraid to ask what Asher said about 'guys like him' and, at least for now, he'll just leave that comment alone. "It's doin' alright," he replies. "Healin' so they say." Though he still has a ways to go in the areas of strength and flexibility. "Long as I don't try ta do too much or bang it too hard don't hurt so much." Meant to reassure her that he's doing fine, though likely not one that would have been given his weyrmate. As for her brother, "Highly doubt he is…."

If Pern had rocket scientists, it still wouldn't need one to figure out that something like hand surgery has got to hurt while healing, something Darsce would be willing to bet his weyrmate knows without him admitting it, even. Not that she's going to waltz over there and blurt he's said the word 'hurt'. It's not her worry if he's playing tough as long as he doesn't wind up hurting himself while doing it. She chuckles a touch dryly, "So no punching anyone, hmm?" The guys giving her the eye are safe for now? As for what her mother might have said about her father - heck no, don't go there!!! That would be worse than the knocked-up convo and she doesn't want to know. She does peek back over her shoulder to both check on his progress with her hair and give him a smirky little grin, "Maybe not, but it would be amusing to ask?"

"I still got another hand," D'had comments, a subtle sort of warning to those guys eyeing her up. He can, and will, still punch them if he deems necessary. That conversation would be worse, so no, he's not going to go there, though he does pick up where he left off on her hair. Not quite finished, but almost. Two or three more strokes should do. "Maybe for you."

He does have two of them, doesn't he? Oops! Darsce giggles in spite of the warning, maybe a bit nervously. "Oh Daddy, you'll scare them all away." While he's finishing with her hair, she drains the last bit of klah from her mug, lowering it to peer longingly into the bottom with a sigh. She has the grace to look ashamed of herself at his last three words but it's really a fleeting thing. "I'll bet N'shen would get a chuckle out of it. But actually, I meant his… you know, his… um woman. Weyrmate. Whatever. I'm dying to know if you really are going to be a grandfather now. Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Long as they're good to my baby girl they ain't got nothin' ta worry about," D'had returns. Sure he'll growl and be scary papa bear, but he's not going to deck them for saying hi. "Maybe," he agrees about the boy, "But somehow I think yer more interested in you bein' an aunt than me," he's just not going to finish that thought. She knows.

With a laugh in her voice Darsce tells him, "There are a few back in Ierne you might punch for me?" Feeling no further strokes of that brush through her hair, she leans forward to deposit her empty mug on the corner of her nightstand, this time sweeping up those earrings before another near-mishap can occur with them. Shifting to sit sideways and thus face him, she tilts her head to begin putting one of them in, blue eyes full of merriment at his last comment. "Oh Daddy you are so funny! Avoiding knowing isn't going to make it not so. It's gonna happen sooner or later, you know." She knows and so doesn't actually say again the word he so clearly doesn't want to hear.

"No," D'had knows its not going to delay the inevitable. With his track record he could be already somewhere and not know it. "But can avoid it." And that he will do his best at until it can't be avoided any longer. "Still can't believe you're all growed up." There's a fond smile for the young woman with those last words. "Look just like yer momma." Sigh. "Wonder I haven't had ta chase off more of 'em." Of course that might have been different if he were around more often.

Aaaaand Darsce is not going to even think about that track record - lalala! Her parents never even kissed and she sprouted in the cabbage patch. She's firmly going to believe that for the rest of her life! She can muse in the generic though, "People can be grandparents by age thirty y'know, so really it doesn't mean you're old or anything just because you're… you know… one of those." Her nose wrinkles in a mock-sympathy for his plight while her eyes, well… they glimmer with part tease and part tears at his last words. "I don't suppose you'll ever tell me… what happened between you two? Momma wouldn't say." Lowering her eyes, she suddenly gets busy with that second earring.

"I know," D'had admits. He does know that, but it doesn't mean he's ready. He wasn't ready to be a father again until the twins were born and Thea convinced him he wasn't going to break them by holding them. He's just not ready for it, but he'll be fine. "Honestly, I ain't sure baby," the bluerider admits, "Lot ‘a things just didn't work out in the end."

Darsce finishes with her earring but rather than drop her hands to her lap and lift her head, she remains immobile for a few breaths after he finishes speaking. She can't pretend to fiddle with that earring forever and finally lets go of the thing, lifts her eyes to her father's. Softly, earnestly, she asks, "Are you happy Daddy? Is she good to you and… stuff?" ‘She’ being Thea and ‘stuff’ likely being the L-word. This conversation would never happen in public where people could witness her being 'not-cool' but here in private it’s another story. And well… maybe recent events with his hand and her being upset with him have allowed things to bubble to the surface. Or maybe she's growing up just a little, to the place where she sees beyond herself to the needs of others, for the question is asked with a humble wish to really know.

D'had reaches his good hand for one of hers at that question. Reassurance in that half smile of his as he gives her hand a light squeeze. Whatever the reason for her question he appreciates her concern. "I am," he replies without a moment's thought. "We have our trouble every now'n then, but she's a good woman an' a good mother. But," and here he pauses for a moment to study his daughter's face, "what about you sweetie?"

Darsce threads her fingers though her father's, gives his hand a return squeeze, reassured and relieved both. The smile she gives him wavers into a pulled-to-the-side wry sort of face, "Well, to be honest, Daddy, I haven't really been all that… happy. Momma and I argue a lot." She ducks her head a little, drops her eyes and her shoulders hunch a bit as she admits that. "Momma says it's teenaged insanity, but I think I do things different than she does is all." She sniffs her pique with a chin toss that would be sure to set her mother off if she were present to see it. "I… I missed you and Hali lot." She peeks up as though unsure whether to even ask but manages to blurt out the question anyway, "Would it be okay to stay here for awhile?"

"Your momma has a lot ‘a opinions," D'had comments, that much he'll agree with their daughter on. He already said the two of them had their fair share of disagreements. "Course ya can stay sweetheart," he answers quickly once that question is posed, pulling her into a hug. "Long as ya want. Just let your momma know ya are so she don't worry too much." He knows better than to say so she won't worry, because she will either way. "Missed you too."

Darsce wraps her arms around her father and returns that hug, whispering huskily, "Thank you Daddy. I'll let her know. And I love you too." Her mother will probably be relived to have her out of her hair for a little while and here's a chance for him to keep an eye on those boys eyeing her? Hopefully his hand will heal quickly - he might have need of it! It hasn't missed Darsce's notice that Xanadu could use a good dose of Ierne fashion, either. No, there are no ulterior motives here at all are there?

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License