Xanadu Weyr - Weyrleaders' Office
Office and retreat, this is the domain of Xanadu's Weyrleaders. The door is in the eastern wall, quite close to the southern end while the northern wall is dominated by big, expansive windows, framed by sumptuous deep blue drapes edged with a brilliant gold braid and tied back with a thick rope of braided gold and blue cord. In between, the eastern wall is covered floor to ceiling with shelves that house all sorts of records, manuals and supplies that are used on a day-to-day basis. The southern wall has the Weyrleader's desk — plain fellis wood, well polished and masculine. From behind his desk, the Weyrleader can look straight through the windows and out onto the main airspace of Xanadu. The western wall is where the Weyrwoman's desk resides: a lovely piece of furniture made of warm cherry wood. From her seat, a glance sideways gives her an equally good prospect out the window. There are a few other seats, some comfortably arranged around a low round table for small, informal meetings while there also some that can be drawn up to one of the desks.
On the south side of the door, the space is occupied by a low oblong table where refreshments can be set without someone needing to intrude. There is also an 'incoming' tray where incoming correspondence or similar items can be left.
Those who were in the caverns when the storm started are still stuck there as it continues outside the next afternoon. The Weyrwoman and family have taken up temporary residence in her (and the Weyrleader's) office, she is off in the main caverns with the twins in search of an afternoon snack for the children while D'had has found time to catch up on his lack of sleep by falling asleep with his head down on the desk.
Darsce is utterly bored. As was her usual, she rose close to lunch and was sipping klah and eating breakfast while the diners ate their lunch yesterday. So she spent the entire afternoon stuck in a crowded cavern and prowling about until the wee hours of the night restless, looking for some sort of excitement and not finding any. You know, that's a recipe for trouble right there! Day two and it's not looking any better, really. Oh, she managed to sleep in, leaving her pallet a heap of messy blankets strewn on the floor and kicked under that desk her father's got his head on, heading down for klah around noon and just now returning, easing in through the door without making a sound. Someone has had lots of practice sneaking maybe.
D'had talks in his sleep from time to time, not that much, if any, of it can be made out. This is one of those times, that while sound asleep he mutters to himself. His daughter sneaking in, well she's had plenty of practice on that, and without any sound from voices or door the chances are he could continue to sleep for awhile, but that's not about to happen this time as he snaps awake - something in his head registering that he has indeed fallen asleep. "Oh…" he comments as dark eyes set upon his daughter, "Hi baby..?"
Busted! Not that Darsce is doing anything wrong, really. She's just easing that door closed with her foot while noting that muttering with a very entertained look over her shoulder and big BIG ears straining to catch a word or two. Anything? At all? She's got a large pot of klah in one hand and a plate of pastries studded with nuts. It appears she's prepared to eat the entire plate of goodies herself if her father continues to sleep but nope he's awake now. "Daddy darling! You're awake!" She's sounding chipper, but an hour ago that wouldn't have been the case. The pitcher is set on the corner of that desk and she hops casually up on the other corner with that plate in her lap, turning to cross her legs and face her father. "So… good dreams?"
D'had's muttered words are hard to make out, but what might be caught doesn't sound like pleasant dreams. He chuckles however, a smile growing for her brightness as she takes a seat. He's going to help himself to one of those pastries though, whether she's offering or not. "Not this time," he admits given her question of his dreams, "but they can't all be. How're ya doin' with all this?" 'This' of course meaning the storm, and being cooped up with so many others.
That's… disturbing. And there's a concerned frown on Darsce's face because of it. She leans forward to brush a kiss across his forehead, "Aw, Daddy Dear. All your dreams should be good ones!" That plate is offered willingly when she sees his hand reach towards it. Really it's a wonder she stays so slim given the things she eats. But there's more than enough for two, which is likely the reason she's in here with them to begin with. "Klah?" She's leaning precariously, without removing her bottom from the desk to snag a couple of mugs before he answers, assuming he's going to want some anyway. Her answer to his question is a prompt and bluntly honest, "I'm going out of my mind with the monotony. So I could really use a story. What were you dreaming about?" Because hey - nightmares are great fodder for passing the time!
"Thanks baby," D'had replies to both her response on his bad dreams and the offer of food and drink. She's old enough to realize they aren't all good though. "Please," he adds for klah and when she reaches for those mugs he's watching closely to hopefully ensure that she's not tumbling down. "Does get stuffy," he agrees about the current situation. He chuckles though for her request of a story, "Suppose I could try a story…" He might just have to think about how it goes a bit first.
Darsce knows! She just doesn't think he deserves bad ones. He's perfect and so, no. His should always be sweet ones. She has amazing abs and balance…or luck more likely… and thus straightens up, mug handles hooked in the crook of her forefinger without tumbling from the desk or dropping the mugs. These are set on the desk and the klah poured, one nudged his way while she lifts the other. "Tell me your dream," she repeats, blue eyes alight with curiosity, head tilted in anticipation of hearing something good.
D'had hmms… "Well.." How to start? Stories really aren't his forte. Then again that could in part be due to him not being much of a talker to begin with. "It was a beautiful summer afternoon. Sun shinin', flowers in bloom. Warm. Crystal seas. A pretty young woman and her man were picnicking. Boat moored just off shore." It doesn't start off bad.
Darsce idly picks all the nuts from her pastry, pushing them aside onto a pile with the long tip of her pink-lacquered fingernail. He's got her total attention and she's listening with avid attention. But of course, being the girl she is, he's mentioning 'pretty woman and her man' and what she wants to know is, "Was he tall, dark and handsome like you Daddy?" Into her mouth goes a bite of her nut-free pastry while she flutters him a wink and a grin. Doesn't take after him at all, does she?
D'had can't help but chuckle at her question. "Well," he replies, "Since I'm tellin' the story I think I'm gonna have ta say yes." Munching on a bite of his own pastry he considers the next line. "Sun didn't say long though. They didn't notice the grey line on the horizon. Storm brewing." They've all seen it at one point or another. "Rain started pourin', wind whippin' everything, n' the waves got huge. Came outta nowhere n' they didn't have much time to secure anything."
Darsce approves of this with a saucy grin. If anyone ever calls her father old and nasty they'll have a black eye courtesy of one fire-ice blue-eyed blonde. She lifts her mug, fingers wrapping gracefully around the warmth of the ceramic and breathes out her next question. "Did the pretty woman have a name?" And she what she really wants to know is, "Were they stuck on that island they were having their picnic on? And did he kiss her in the rain when their food was ruined?" Pert and she knows it.
D'had hesitates when she asks for a name. "I… don't know baby, but he didn't kiss 'er. Wasn't time. They was still on the boat. Told 'er ta get below, safer there. Ride it out. She was stubborn though. Next wave came up n' washed 'em both overboard."
Darsce ohhhhs and nods understanding. "They were picnicking on the boat. How nice!" She's sipping her klah then, watching him over the rim as he continues, blue eyes widening as he mentions that wave. She lowers her mug, leans forward a little, eyes locked on his. "And they got washed to the island, right? Because it was right there." Her playful chipper is gone, caught up in the story as she is. She's feeling the drama, the danger and the churning surf. Young people do that so easily, enter into the imagination and live it. "What happened next?"
D'had nods, "They'd talk bout goin ta the island, but hadn't gotten there yet," he explains with a subtle shake of his head for her amusement of it all. "The wave 'n the currents pulled 'em down deep into the water. They were reaching for anything they could grab, tryin' ta get ta the surface. He was lookin for 'er." Pause for effect, or maybe just for the drink of klah he slips in to hide the crack in his voice. "Saw 'er. Reached for 'er and then wham!" mug set down hard on the desk. "Somethin’ from the boat hit 'im hard n' it all went black."
Darsce, by this time is more caught up than amused. And it's just a dream or a story so she can afford to be little distanced, perhaps. She looks a little sad for the pair never having had the chance to explore the island yet, but more into whether the hero saves the woman from the terrible water that didn't just harmlessly wash them there to have that adventure, but sucked them under instead. She's from Ierne and has swum the waters there, felt the strong currents. This is all too vivid for her and she shudders. That well-timed sip of his earns a glance, but she makes no comment. Her lips part and the fingers of the hand she's dropped to her lap twitch in sympathy for that futile reach the man did. "Did they-" The crack of ceramic hitting wood causes her to jump violently, klah splashing from her own mug.
D'had shakes his head sadly, "Only one," he answers her half asked question, voice catching though that's hopefully covered well enough by another sip of klah. "Someone found 'im alive next day, but enough bout bad dreams," he says waving it off. "How're ya doin' here?" Now that she's left Irene and been visiting Xanadu for awhile.
Ah yes, but vocal timbre conveys much more than mere catches of the throat. And facial expressions say much more than words. Darsce perhaps reads between the lines better than most especially because this is her father. She reaches a hand out to him, brushing his rough cheek with light fingertips. Softly and with great feeling, "Papa." She hasn't called him that in turns. The singular word is all that's said but it carries a wealth of understanding. She can't know why it makes him so sad nor why he has this bad dream, she only knows without a doubt that it does. His attempt at subject-changing goes unremarked to. "You were than man." It's not a question. But it is a guess.
She wanted to hear about the dream, he tried to avoid it and ended up telling the story anyway. "Was a little younger than ya are now," D'had explains, hand lifting to give the one of hers on his cheek a light squeeze. He'll be alright, it was just a bad dream. "Everyone's bein' nice? No trouble or nothin'?" a second attempt to move on to other conversations.
Nice try, Daddy Darling. Subject changes, while they work with guys, rarely work with women. There's a nod from Darsce as he seems to confirm her guess with his admission of being a little younger than she is. Sure he'll be alright. She has no doubt! He's her strong papa, invincible in her eyes and always will be. But she's put herself into the story, heart, soul and mind and so she can imagine going through this herself now, not to mention being in his shoes. Blue eyes fill with tears and, not content with that cheek-touch she sets her mug down and lifts her arms, leaning forward to wrap around his neck in a hug. "Nobody. Nobody had better ever hurt you, Papa!" she whispers fiercely.
"They won't ifin they know what's good for 'em," D'had replies after being caught off guard by that hug. Ironic given he's still sporting remains of a few bruises from that bar fight the day of Seryth's last flight. "They best not hurt any of my girls either," he adds, as he wraps an arm around her to return that hug. "Love ya baby."
And they wonder where Darsce gets it from - that reckless impulse to jump into a fight on the roaring wingleader's back while the two of them were trading punches. No one messes with her father! "I love you too, Daddy. And no one's been mean I guess?" Her voice is a touch uncertain though as she releases her hold on him and leans back to give that pile of picked-out nuts on her plate some overly-intent attention. Something she's pushed down is definitely rising to the forefront with that moving story of his. Picking one of the nuts up between thumb and forefinger - she was just saving them for later apparently - she notes, "The boys in Ierne never grabbed me like that that rider did the other day." Oh yes, she felt mighty odd herself that day in the tavern and has heard the word goldflight bandied about but hasn't yet put two and two together.
D'had reaches out to pat her knee as his one corner of his lips curls up into a smile. "Well, suppose that's a good thing," he replies about her guess. That smile fades a bit given her next comment however and it's followed by an apology. "I'm sorry baby. Figured yer Ma'd 'a explained all that n' Ah ain't so good at noticin' a gold's goin' up all the time." Even if Seryth is his weyrmate's lifemate. "You alright?"
Popping the nut into her mouth, Darsce is chewing when he apologizes, so swallows hastily before saying, "Well, she said the dragon glows and it rises and the bronze catch the queen and they - you know, stuff!" Both of her cheeks are flushing red. "We went away, not that the queens rose there very often but she never said anything about, uhhh…" How awkward! She trails off, shifting her gaze anywhere but at her father's face while she rakes her fingers through her hair in much the same way she did when catching the flightlust broadcasted by the dragons the other day. There's a little huh of confusion about him not noticing when a gold is going up, a tiny darted look of surprise at this revelation and she blurts, "Why doesn't Siebith tell you? He'd know, right?" Or maybe the blue doesn't think his rider would be interested. Whatever the case she just lets that go to answer his last question about whether she's alright. "Not… really?"
D'had shrugs, "Sometimes he does," he replies. This is as awkward for him as it is for her, this was one of those talks that her mother was supposed to be in charge of. "Ah don't always think about it though. But sounds like she told ya the basics. Sent ya off ‘cause those things… well emotions sorta get sprinkled on everyone around the Weyr 'n…" Well she knows now what happens then. There's a long pause when she admits she's not completely okay. "Not really?" What's that mean and what's he supposed to do about it?
That's the problem! She knows. She's scarlet all the way to her hairline as she shifts on the desk, drawing her knees up to rest her forehead on them, hiding so-to-speak. "I, uhhh…felt like…" Yeaaah he's got to know exactly what she felt like doing, so she just leaves that thought unfinished. Oh this is going badly. Very badly. He mother may have supposed to have had this talk with her, but Asher is a woman and right now, Darsce probably needs a little more practical guy-type advice. "Next time? You might not be around." She tilts her head sideways to give him a quick and very embarrassed glance before shifting her head so that curtain of blonde falls back into place. "Can you teach me how to throw a punch? Or some dirty sailor tricks to stop a person?" Can he teach her to want to throw a punch when the time comes too? Hah!
D'had is.. lets just say that's not what he wants to hear from his baby girl. He just shakes his head as his own embarrassment rises. This is not a daddy-daughter talk, or at least it's not one that he wants to have, or is comfortable having. "No," he agrees, "suppose Ah might not," though whoever it is that time had best keep an eye out for him if anything gets back to him. That request though, he can certainly approve of. "Course Ah can sweetheart," he agrees, hand lifting to brush that curtain of hair from her face. "Ah'm sorry Ah let it get that far."
Hey - she's being honest here! At least Darsce's no more comfortable going into details than he is in hearing them and she goes no further with that. When he lifts her hair there is brief puzzlement over his suddenly more strongly drawled Is - the Ah-thing. That's new to her. But she says nothing other than, "It's not your fault." She sits up more fully then and informs him pertly, "If Siebith would talk to me, I'd just go hide somewhere. But if Hali has pointers, I'll certainly go talk to her. But you may still teach me some self-defense. Or offense even." She lifts a shapely hand and makes a fist. It's… tiny. And her long, curved, manicured nails gleam with polish. "How's this?" She asks of the fist. Don't laugh!
D'had has his days where he's better at minimizing his trader accents. Nodding, he agrees with that idea to talk with Hali, "Sure she'll have some pointers for ya," though he doesn't comment further on his own lifemate. As for that fist, he does chuckle. "Good start," he replies, "jus make sure yer thumb ain't inside see," he continues, balling up his own fist in example.
His fist looks so much more… imposing. "I'd rather borrow yours," she admits with a rueful honesty while shifting her thumb outside her fingers, although there is a look askance at his previously hurt hand when she says that. Which reminds her, peering at her own hand while copying his technique, "I promised Marella I'd paint her nails." Which was why she came in here in the first place, though she'd brought with her that wake-up snack at the same time. Slipping off of the desk, she leaves the plate of pastries there where he can reach them, her mug left half-empty and skips over to her mess of a pallet where she then paws around and comes up with her nail kit held aloft in triumph. Skipping back to brush a kiss on his rough cheek, she's back to chipper, "She's waiting out there by the fire, so we'll have that self-defense lesson later, okay? You could come watch? But if you sleep, no more nightmares!" Mock-stern, she shakes her forefinger at him. "Dream of me instead." Which. Could be one and the same, who knows?
D'had chuckles. "Maybe," he agrees about imposing, "but comin' from yours it'll be that much more of a surprise," he replies with a wink. A nod follows for her comment on what brought her here, "Sure she'll like that," he agrees, "Can have that lesson tomorrow then." A smile and a chuckle, "I'll do my best, but dreams ain't always so easy ta pick as that." A nod towards the door then, "You go have fun."
I love the dynamics between father/daughter. And the awkward is too funny. Poor D'had! ;)