Xanadu Weyr - Domicile of Discernment
Upstairs, there are bedrooms, their ceilings gently sloped in a continuation of the arch of the exterior room. The largest of these is the one just at the top of the stairs, a field of stars scattered across its ceiling with a layout designed such that the optimal viewing point is the sleigh-style bed set back against the taller wall. A wardrobe and pair of dressers of differing heights are set against the interior trapezoidal wall, creating a stepped effect that echoes the shape of the room, while on the opposite wall, a single large window looks out east over the meadow - at least on those occasions when the curtains are permitted to be open; when those drapes are shut, the gold tie-cords hanging loose, the heavy black material will ensure that Rubkat's dawning does not interfere with the occupants of this room, and the only light will be that of the adjustable star-field overhead.
The day, a rest day stretches ahead, gloriously free of office work. Darsce has slept in, awakened late - for her - though still earlier than her used-to noon rising. It is now midmorning. She should be getting dressed and yet here she is, clad in bikini underthings standing sideways to the full-length stand mirror that she'd brought from her old room upon being wed to Jethaniel with her hands on her bare belly while looking a touch panicked. On the bed, a heap of clothing. The disarray of them and wide open wardrobe doors evidence that the dressing has been…unsuccessful thus far.
Even those days designated for rest still occasionally have requirements, and while attempts may be made to bring such days into alignment, they are not always entirely successful. Jethaniel awoke - if not early - not late, either. He departed Darsce with a kiss for her as she slept and went to the meeting which required his presence. He returns now. The lack of Darsce downstairs is not entirely a surprising one, and so - having ascertained it - he ascends the stairs, opening the door to discover Darsce. Her lack of discovery of a suitable outfit is also noted, but through the assessment of her current state, not the observation of her unsuitable attire. His immediate reaction is a smile; his secondary one, as he notes her expression, are arched eyebrows to express a mild concern.
Darsce's meeting has been with her mirror and the alignment she's been seeking is one of buttons and zippers. Alas, thus far that's been as unsuccessful as her actual dressing. Or, well, she's dressed numerous times, she simply has failed to retain any of those clothes, many of which have been tossed back upon the bed inside out. Nothing's ripped, thankfully, though her hair is in a state of tumbled disarray, and as yet needs her brush applied to it (or maybe that's again). There's a half-mug of tea, now tepid on one of the dressers, evidence that she's at least been downstairs to replenish her fluids, though whether she's eaten is doubtful. The profile of her body is the same slim form it has ever been. Her belly, however has changed, though not noticeably altered by much; no longer is it the lean, flat plane it once was. There's a gentle swell, a roundness that apparently she can no longer deny, though while Jethaniel watches, she tries. First it's to press carefully with her palms. That works…to a point. There's no way she can go around like that all day. Her next attempt is to suck in her stomach, ribs flexing, upper abs concaving with the effort while she holds her breath and her mouth twists. She peers without breathing at the mirror. Fail. The curve is unmistakable, accentuated, even. Her expression of dismay might be comical if it weren't for the glisten of frustrated moisture in the iceblue eyes as she catches sight of her husband in the mirror. She expels a whoosh of air, turns to him and wails, "I'm getting fat!"
Jethaniel's gaze lowers, observing the contour of Darsce's abdomen both before and during the press of her hands against it. He does not, to judge from his expression, observe any particular flaw in that view. There assuredly exists a curve to her stomach; a growing convexity of shape, and yet the curve of Jethaniel's lips - albeit faint - remains a positive one. His eyes lift as she turns toward him, returning to hers to note the emotion there present as she explains. "Ah." Jethaniel crosses to his wife, his arms reaching out to draw her against him. "That is… perhaps technically true, but misleading."
It's the end of the world! Darsce's life is over! Not really, but from that dramatic cry she's just made, that's the impression she gives. She goes willingly into those arms, buries her face in his shoulder and clings. At least she's not sobbing hysterics at him. Though give her time - she might! From that spot where she can see neither mirror nor clothes (both traitors!) she mutters, "I know. I'm going to look like a pumpkin before this is over." She sniffs and lifts her head, but can't quite look Jethaniel in the eyes as as she asks, "Will you… uh, hate looking at me then?" Because she looks pretty awful now, in her opinion. "Right now I look… I look…" She trails off as her arms loosen a little so she can take a half step back, drop her head and peer at the small rise of her stomach above her bikini. She prods it with a finger and finishes, "Ugh. Puffy."
Jethaniel's arms wrap around Darsce, holding her against him. He nods for her knowledge, though her description of her future state makes his lips tug to the side and part slightly. The question itself makes his eyebrows lift, surprise sufficient to produce a moment's delay before his head shakes in negation. "No." His arms shift to permit that step back, but remain around her as she inspects her abdomen's curve and projects its future state. He finds no particular flaw in her analysis per se, merely her description of the derived states and… certain of her conclusions. Jethaniel lowers his eyes to conduct his own observations, then lifts one hand. His fingers trail along Darsce's cheek, then curl beneath her chin to lift it. His own head retains nearly the same angle as his gaze seeks hers. "You are beautiful."
No? Darsce inhales, surprised. He may not find flaws, but she seems to, the hand she'd poked at her stomach with presses to it once more, her hand spread as if to disguise it. "But…" But she's been told… "I… I can't fit into my…clothes," she says instead. Her tenancy to not think about things has backfired here and Darsce…doesn't really own many loose-fitting things. She doesn't lift her head until so prompted. Her lashes are slow to reveal her thoughts, iceblue meeting grey simmer with conflicting emotions. Her lower lip rolls in and white teeth hold it before a slow, half-smile tugs one side of it into a hesitant smile. "Even though I'm turning into an egg with legs?" She's using humor, but oh, her doubts still stir behind that and her hand stays where it is. She, however, leans in to touch her lips tenderly to his and murmurs against them, "You're so sweet to me."
Jethaniel studies Darsce's expression, his fingers gentle. Her clothes, she says, and he nods. "We can obtain new ones." That, or Darsce may simply remain nude… which is perhaps not entirely infeasible on a rest day, but would place certain constraints on their plans. Jethaniel's gaze is steady, grey eyes - for once - uncomplicated. He does not smile for the jest, but the relaxed affection in his expression remains. "You are still beautiful." His reiteration is an earnest one. His thumb drifts slowly along the side of that chin, tracing below the curve of her lips. "…and I still find you appealing." The words are soft; so is the press of Jethaniel's lips, in no particular hurry to either come together with or part from hers. His arm around her adjusts, fingertips trailing along her back to - for at least the moment - hold her closer against him.
Darsce could quite happily remain sans clothing and in Jethaniel's arms for today. Tomorrow, however is a day that will inevitably come, as much as her mental gymnastics may try to prevent that. Her smile grows sweeter as his thumb brushes beneath her mouth, while the uncertainty in her eyes melts away. The fingers of the hand she has on her belly lift, pat the small curve there once before leaving so she may step closer, curl her arm about Jethaniel and settle into the close embrace. A lowly chuckled, "You'd starve as an Iernian modeling agent you know," is followed by a light kiss to his ear, since she's speaking into it. "Do you think it's safe for me to go Between yet? We could go shopping for…" She tries not to choke, "…some things that will fit." Oh joy?
While one may argue that tomorrow as a construct will never actually arrive - given that it is, definitionally, a moment to the future of the present - it is certainly true that time will continue to advance and, as such, there will be a period which is designated from their current frame of reference as tomorrow, during which Darsce will have duties which necessitate both her departure from his embrace and the wearing of clothes. His fingers brush up along her back, skipping past the narrow band of fabric and splaying between her shoulderblades, and he smiles. "It is fortunate I am not one." He would starve, due to a lack of satisfaction derived from the behaviors conducive to profitability in that space… but given that Jethaniel's highly non-adaptive behaviors (at least from the perspective of an Iernian modeling agent) have made Darsce smile, he considers it fortunate that he is not one and may construct himself according to alternate fitness functions. Jethaniel considers her question, his fingers drifting in a gentle caress as he does. "I… believe so." There's uncertainty in his tone, personal concern combined with the lack of professional knowledge in this domain. "In moderation." There are, however, some situations of sufficient importance to justify responses which involve elevated risks.
Darsce can only agree to that; she's perfectly happy with Jethaniel being as he is, doing what he does best - including his stewardly tasks. So she nods to the comment and then considers. Given the uncertainty on their parts and furthermore that the word 'moderation' implies danger, she says lightly, "Let's double-check with the healers before we go." It can't hurt to be careful now, can it? Those so-casually-mentioned healers are going to be surprised to see her, not that she remarks to that! "If I can't go, I can send you with a list to someone I know- Not Asher!" she hastens to reassure him. "One of the stylists there." Now that leaves her with the original dilemma of what to wear today. With the weather growing cooler, what she's wearing at the moment won't be comfortable. She slips relucantly from Jethaniel to paw through the heap of discards on their bed, finally selecting a pair of jeans, steps in and pulls them up with a wriggle to get them past her hips. "If you don't mind loaning me a shirt, no one will notice when I leave the top button of these undone." It's only when she, assuming he won't mind, is halfway to his side of the wardrobe that she thinks to ask, "Did you have any plans for today?"
Jethaniel nods with a measure of relief to the idea of consulting with the healers regarding Darsce's travel… though it seems unlikely that her interaction with them will constitute a full visit, let alone compensate for the wide variety of appointments she has thus far failed to make or - when they have been made on her behalf by the healers - skipped. They are, nevertheless, the ones who will be able to accurately assess the risks involved and determine the degree of safety to Darsce's travel. If the risk is deemed excessive… Jethaniel frowns slightly, but it's for the first part of her statement, not the concept of his own travel on her behalf. He is, while inept as a modeling agent, capable of acting as Darsce's agent in the acquisition of clothing. His nod of agreement is halted by the clarification of a concept which had not occured to him and that - according to his deepened frown and the relief which follows - he is pleased that he will not have to encounter. "I would not trust her to select suitable clothing for you." This, despite the fact that Asher is assuredly skilled at selecting attire which flatters herself, has been pregnant in the past, and shares the hair and skin tones of her daughter. Despite these facts, Jethaniel finds preferable the concept of consulting with a stylist he has not previously encountered; he nods to that without protest. "Certainly." His arms untwine from around Darsce, though he follows her to the bed, fingers lingering against her back as she re-inspects that clothing before slipping away as she dons those jeans and goes to select one of his shirts to complete the outfit. He shrugs at her question. "I had intended to work on some schematics. They may wait."
If at all possible, Darsce will pose the question, hear the answer and then get the hell out of there so fast their healer-heads will spin. She'll take their advice about travel, however reluctantly and assures Jethaniel of that with, "I don't want to do anything to hurt the baby." Those jeans, while left unbuttoned at the waist, narrow nicely to the shape of her calves tight at the ankles, making the high-heeled boots she slips into all the easier. She receives the borrowed shirt gladly, blowing him a kiss from the tips of her fingers as she takes it and slips into it. The sleeves will have to be rolled up; this is accomplished nimbly, fingers forming crisp cuffs on her forearms, then swiftly buttoning the front. "I wouldn't trust Asher period," says she of her mother. And hopefully she'll be busy elsewhere while they're in Ierne. The result of Jethaniel's shirt, when checked in the mirror, while not exactly a fashion statement, is satisfactory, but there's a half-frown for his restday plans. "Schematics? For…Xanadu?" It's curiosity, not disapproval. She understands…somewhat… working for pleasure. She reaches for her hairbrush, adding easily, "If you'd rather stay, I can go by myself." Going, which will commence as soon as she restores order to her hair since she'd applied makeup before attempting to dress.
If the healer on duty is one familiar with Darsce - not that she's given any of them much opportunity to become so - they may try to sneak in a few applicable questions of their own as a price for the answer she seeks. Then again, perhaps they'll just consider themselves fortunate she's asking for any medical advice and shrug in the wake of her whirlwind departure. Either way, "We will check." Given that they're at a Weyr, the healers should have a very clear idea of what does and does not pose an unreasonable risk… though these things do vary according to the circumstances of the patient, which Darsce has not chosen to provide them. Nevertheless, the question will be posed and their recommendations (in that) abided by. Asher's recommendations will be avoided insofar as possible and not followed even if received; Jethaniel inclines his head in agreement to that, then smiles as he watches Darsce dress. The shirt hangs differently on her than it does him, but it nevertheless performs the required functions of clothing… and perhaps more importantly, is deemed suitable by Darsce. Jethaniel smiles at her question and shakes his head. "It is a personal project." And as such, the work applied is merely in the sense of labor, not in the one wherein he will be paid for those efforts. "An electronic musical device." Presuming, that is, that he can produce the schematics to his satisfaction and proceed to the actual construction. Nevertheless… "I will come with you." It is an easy decision, one Jethaniel presents with a smile. The design might be fascinating, but given that his intentions involved doing it in promixity to Darsce he will - given the choice - select the proximity in preference to the project.
Somewhere in her preparations, Darsce smiles over at Jethaniel in a preoccupied sort of way, "I thought you already had one of those." And yet, when she reflects on it, he probably built the one she's heard about. "You're amazing." Darsce might grudgingly consider it an even trade while trying to keep from the healer on-duty how badly she wants to know. They could, in the wake of her history of head injury, prefer to disallow her Betweening until her pregnancy is over. Not that she's thinking about that possibility, oh no! Instead, she's fluffed her hair, pleased with the mirrored reflection of silken fringe across brow and cheeks, reaches for a drawer, grabs a metallic belt with blue rhinestone center and belts it over the shirt at her hip level, then pulls some of the material out with her fingertips to wear it blousen style. Perfect! Not only does it hide the tiny swell she's been fretting over, but it looks like she's wearing this purposely instead of desperately. With a last twirl before her mirror, she dances over to Jethaniel with a sunny smile and offers him her hand. "Let's blow this place!"
"Not precisely," Jethaniel answers with a smile of his own. "I have speakers and a generalized device capable of audio output. The goal is to construct a miniaturized audio system, capable of working in standalone fashion." Whether he achieves it or not, there are surely refinements to be made on the existing system and various designs to be considered. He tilts his head slightly at Darsce's description of him, smiling for at least the fact that she thinks so, whether or not he entirely agrees with her description. It is, however, true that if she is amazed, he is amazing to at least one person, and as such, he does not dispute it. He does take Darsce's hand when she offers it, lifting it to brush his lips to those fingers before setting it on his arm in preparation for their departure. Their first stop is the healers, to determine whether the healers will stop them from further stops. If they're given the clear for this trip - which is to say, informed that the risk is minimal - they will proceed to Ierne; if not, they will determine alternate means for Darsce to obtain an intentional and fashionable wardrobe which conforms to the actual state of her body instead of merely an aspirational one.
If Darsce merely thought Jethaniel was amazing before, he's just confirmed it in her mind. Her lips move, echoing 'standalone fashion' with a headshake and a totally adoring look. She curves her hand in the crook of his arm and off they go, hopefully prepared with jackets for Between. It's in the infirmary they encounter the first snag. "I don't know," is her answer to how far along she is. Aaaand that'd be because she doesn't have a LMP date for them and thus, "We need to have a sonar performed. Let's get you to the dolphincrafters. If they say you're far enough, we'll clear you for Between. Simple." Simple, yeahright! Darsce looks totally in the dark, but hey! She wants to go shopping, so if she must, she'll jump through the hoop, whatever it entails. She has no idea. And so there'll be a healer dragon to take them flying straight - and into a cavern where things are warmer - including the water. That's when everything in Darsce's world skids to a halt. She'll stand beside that pool staring at the large-eyed creature in a kind of shock. Finally, "You want me to get into the water with the fish." She gets a nod. "And the fish is going to tell me how big the baby is." The look she gives the dolphineer is telling. The woman is out of her mind.
While any approximation of progress must necessarily contain some amount of uncertainty, the proportion present in the assessment of how far Darsce is along is excessive. The error bars cover much of the graph, and so in order to avoid making an error, further refining information is sought; specifically, this sonar. Jethaniel nods to the healers and follows Darsce - seated behind her on the dragon, which may constitute a following despite the fact that the motive force is provided by the dragon. The motivation, however, is Darsce's desire to go shopping. So motivated, they arrive at the dolphineer's cavern and are informed of further details of the process by which the healers will obtain further details regarding the pregnancy. Jethaniel's expression is an interested one for the factual information, followed by a look to Darsce as she… stares. He considers this as well. "…it is, I believe, related to longitudinal wave transformations."
Longitudinal wave transformations. Jethaniel is the next one to get a long look. Riiiight. "I don't know how to surf," she informs him drolly and totally missing the tech-speak he's using for his input. The healer craftrider and the dolphineer are both females. Darsce's got nothing they both haven't got - and surely nothing Jethaniel hasn't seen - at least on her person. But Darsce, after a long, thoughtful look at that dolphin, opts for the changing room with a muttered, "I'm not stripping while the fish watches!"she says caustically and presently emerges clad in the simple white shift sans her other clothing. Oh but this gets better! "I need to whaaat?!" Yeah, that's right, they've just told her she needs to get into the water with the creature! Darsce balks. "Can't it just mind-probe me from here?" Really? She has to get… near it? Time to hyper-ventilate!
Jethaniel's view - while conducted over as much Darsce as he can manage - is limited to the exterior one; thus the intended involvement of this dolphin for an interior analysis. "My knowledge is both theoretical and sparse." This statement may also be true regarding surfing; it is certainly true of his understanding of sonar. He inclines his head to her decision regarding her change of attire, and remains where he is to await her return after the clothing she selected with such difficulty has been removed and replaced with the fashion choice the healers appear to (inexplicably) find most appealing on any body type. Jethaniel reaches to brush his fingers against Darsce's side as she presents her objections regarding that dolphin to both creature and handler, with a small frown that's followed by a quiet suggestion. "…I can come with you."
He knows more than Darsce does, no surprise there! Her silverblonde head nods regardless and absently while staring at the creature in the pool. Back at Jethaniel's side, she shifts uneasily at the answer, sidling a bit closer to him. The dolphin is watching, chittering cheerfully, flips a mouthful of water playfully at Darsce's bare feet. What's the holdup? "EeewwwW! It spit on me!" The brush of fingers recalls her from being grossed out and she nods, "Please." Her expression isn't quite one of fear, but it could certainly be read as fear. Mostly uncertainty and reservation predominates. Her gaze flicks to the dolphineer, who nods encouragement. Whatever it takes to get the patient in the water! Darsce will wait for Jethaniel, eyeing the dolphin uneasily the entire time and only when he is back by her side, does she move reluctantly to the incline that leads into the pool.
From the perspective of the dolphin, his behavior is friendly. From the perspective of the dolphineer and healer, there is nothing to be concerned about. It is, however, primarily Darsce's perspective in this with which Jethaniel concerns himself, and so his eyes are on her save for a brief glance to the dolphin and a slight frown. His touch is gentle, and he nods to her answer. Those fingers linger for a moment longer before he turns to depart behind that screen. His absence is a brief one, and when he returns he is attired suitably for aquatic immersion. He has not, however, chosen to dress in the designated patient garb, merely a pair of loose trunks that approximate standard swim attire despite their generic nature. Jethaniel reaches for Darsce's hand, curling his fingers around hers. "Shall we?" The slope is gentle, the water - if not precisely warm - not excessively cold. It is inclined to make the fabric of shift and shorts billow as it soaks through them, and Jethaniel makes no attempt to hurry Darsce.
The dolphineer and healer exchange looks. One of those sorts! With greater patience than perhaps they ought, they seek to reassure, but Darsce is having none of it. She remains tense even after Jethaniel returns and nods wordlessly to his 'shall we', places her hand in his and edges into the water a half step behind him. The dolphineer, meanwhile, makes a neat dive into the deeper end of the pool, is met by her partner with a joyful flourish and a chatter of syllables. The dolphineer beckons them out further, "We need you chest-deep." Darsce edges deeper - and further behind Jethaniel if she can, eyeing the creature by leaning out a little to do so. Swimming closer, "So this is Shizz. And no, it doesn't mean what you might think. She heard the word and liked the sound of it. So we obliged." The dolphineer is far too cheerful about all this, according to Darsce, who shoots Shizz a long look as she glides by. "Tell me I don't have to pet the Shizz-fish," she mutters. The animal knows her name; she passes behind them and stops right in front of them, with her head upright. "You don't have to, but she would enjoy it if you would. Just don't touch her eyes or her blowhole."
Jethaniel is quiet as they proceed. He has no particular intrinsic concern; his posture is relaxed, his attention more on Darsce than the dolphin. "They often follow ships near Cove Hold," he says to her. Unsurprising, perhaps, given the number of retirees there; some of them are dolphineers, and the tropical waters there can easily support a pod. The name of those particular dolphin draws a glance and an arched brow from Jethaniel, followed by a slight nod as his attention returns to Darsce. It is, given her position behind him, somewhat difficult to follow her exactly, but he shifts to an angle and tilts his head to better catch any response she makes. "They are… perhaps overly enthusiastic at times, but generally beneficial in their presence."
Darsce nods at Jethaniel's comment, "Yeah, I've seen them when I was aboard Grandfather Naois' ship. They follow the Vega Run when she sails." She's sounding neutral about that but then, the ship's rail separated her from the creatures. The dolphineer is given another dubious look, her hands remain away from Shizz, who edges closer to the pair in her pool, confused perhaps from the lack of contact and emits a string of syllables that end in a questioning note. At least Darsce doesn't keep edging behind Jethaniel when he turns, but she's not about to touch the dolphin! "So, um, what do I need to do for her to…to…uh…" The dolphineer grins. "Oh she already knows. You are mid-second trimester. And I will defer to the healer as to the rest of your prenatal care." The healer, to her credit makes no sarcastic comment on the lack of Darsce's compliance thus far; she merely notes, "You may Between safely with moderation as long as you come for your appointments and follow the regimen we've set for you."
There is assuredly a distinction between that which is presented at a distance and that which is in immediate proximity. Jethaniel nods to Darsce concerning her grandparents' ship and the association of dolphins therewith. He regards the dolphin Shizz who is in the midst of demonstrating that distinction, but - given Darsce's aversion - Jethaniel does not reach to the creature either. Fortunately, the inspection they are here to conduct does not necessitate any physical contact; if it did, Darsce might have cause to reassess how essential it is that she pick out her own clothing… but she does not; Shizz has made that assessment and communicates it to the dolphineer, who translates into more human-accessible speeds of communication. Jethaniel smiles, his fingers squeezing Darsce's gently, then looks to the healer. Their trip is given permission, and he nods. Darsce is enjoined to come to her appointments; he does not comment on that. "Then… we may proceed."
Some activities in Darsce's immediate proximity are more than welcome, sought even. This one? Not so much. There's no animal that Darsce has ever shown affection to, not even the runners she rides, though they're in no way mistreated when she does. Shizz is a… fish. Or well, a mammal but Darsce isn't thinking about the creature in a precise or accurate way. As such, the only consideration she thinks she shows poor Shizz is in avoiding chattering about sushi. Though Shizz adores raw fish. Rivergrains? Not so much. "She's done? Sweet! Tell the fish I said thanks!" And she's outta here - fingers returning the squeeze of Jethaniel's as she beats a hasty retreat from that pool and makes for the ramp so she may re-acquire her clothing and scram, hopefully before the healer remembers to make an appointment for her.
The distinctions made between activities are also important. Jethaniel inclines his head to dolphin and dolphineer both. "Thank you," he says, though the instruction to convey gratitude was likely not meant for him. That accomplished, he proceeds with Darsce up the ramp to once more don clothing - complete with riding jackets, since they are to be permitted between. It might be easier to escape the making of an appointment had they arranged for a transport from here other than the healer-rider who brought them overland… but given that they did not precisely plan this detour, such contingencies were not accounted for.
*Between* activities, on the other hand… are limited to not freezing and maybe counting the seconds until re-appearing. And though Darsce has become fairly nonchalant about doing so over the course of her life, she's never done so carrying a baby growing inside of her. The healer elaborates on the stress it might cause to a developing fetus, stresses the importance of diet, nutrition, vitamins, fluids and lastly, regular check ups as her dragon pumps its wings to gain altitude. Darsce endures the lecture with far more grace than one might have anticipated, curbing her tongue (yes, folks, this is possible in rare cases), nodding silently, soberly and without even rolling her eyes once. That she's taking it seriously might be evident only to Jethaniel as she shrinks back into him and places her palms over her stomach in a protective gesture just before the numbing cold blackness envelops them. Three beats later, they arrive over Ierne and the healer's questions begin: how does she feel? Does she feel the baby move? Any dizziness? The answer comes after Darsce begins breathing again and considers. She's fine. As they land, the healer stresses any changes, any at all and she wants them to check in with a healer. Then they're free.
Jethaniel's arms curl around Darsce, holding her close as the dragon rises - though his protection is, in this case, a purely psychological measure. It may nevertheless be valuable; agitation has the potential to result in physiological changes, and besides, there exists an intrinsic value to this embrace. When they emerge from the nothing of between, Jethaniel's arms tighten for a brief moment, as if to assure himself of Darsce's continued presence. Her existence was in no particular doubt; her status is inquired after by the healer, and Jethaniel listens carefully to that barrage of questions and Darsce's answers. Flying to Xanadu straight - should her state be unsatisfactory - would be a very slow process, and Jethaniel does not particularly wish to consider the possibility (albeit slight enough that the healers permitted this trip) that her state might be even less satisfactory. He relaxes as he hears her confirmations, nods to the healer's injunctions before dismounting from the dragon and offering his arms to Darsce for her own departure from that transport. "We can spend the day here." They have, after all, been cautioned against betweening in too close proximity; a leisurely day will suffice to space out the arrival and departure and also to ensure Darsce has ample opportunity to obtain the new clothing which has motivated her to undertake this journey with all the medical interaction it has entailed.
Continues in: Blast From the Past