Let The Memory Live Again

Fort Weyr - Lake Shore
This lake shares many features common to mountain lakes — a brilliant blue jewel nestled amongst the rocks. The waters are crystal clear, and the north shore slopes gently before abruptly falling away into the depths. This lake does have one significant differentiating feature, however. The south shore of the lake is a tumbled mass of rubble, rock and earth of an ancient rockslide smoothed only by the elements in the intervening years. This rubble, as well as the rather sheer east and west faces, makes for the north shore to be the only one easily accessible.
Springs arrival is noted by the disappearing lake ice. As it melts it breaks up into smaller icy bergs. These bob randomly throughout the choppy waters, slowly disappearing as the temperatures rise. They also frequently provide sport and entertainment for the bathing dragons. The emerging shoreline is inviting, though the water remains chilly for their human counterparts. As spring draws nearer to summer, the waters begin to feel quite invigorating with Rukbat's growing shine.

The sun has begun to set, heralding the end of yet another day as the skies gradually darken. Fort Weyr remains a hive of activity, however and though the hour is growing later, the festive atmosphere is only just beginning! Kouzevelth's latest clutch by Velokraeth graces the Sands and there's a feast and general revelry to be had! The lake shore has certainly been decked out for the occasion, with Inri's taste in hanging lights taking the centre stage; simple and yet oh-so ethereally beautiful. They're strung out over the water and across many of the main areas set for gathering. Like so many captured fireflies, they're certainly attractive and fitting to the summer season! Th'ero has found himself a spot to sit away from the thick knots of grouped folk, the Weyrleader appreciating a moment of 'peace' on his sidelined bench. Little has changed about him, though his features have become more lined and creased as age creeps up slowly on him. His hair too bears the brunt of Turns, now greying along the temples and a little into his beard. Not that it bothers him! It's not like he can stop the passage of time. Still, he'll watch the younger folk mingle and enjoy themselves with an unreadable look and maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of nostalgia there.

BUT NOT FAR ENOUGH AWAY. Or maybe too far away? Listen, Th'ero can be the one to determine how he feels about the fate of his entire existence once Risali shows up on scene — shamelessly. Leirith just had to see those eggs, you see (even if she couldn't really exactly see them for herself), and Risali was the perfect seeing-eye minion to send to task. And Risali really does know better, but it doesn't stop her from SNEAKING ON UP BEHIND TH'ERO (as sneakily as one can manage without trying to sneak, of course), and then LEANING FORWARD AGAINST HIM FROM BEHIND. One arm comes across his shoulders, ALL THAT HAIR FALLS FORWARD, and Risali greets the aging man with a hint of teeth behind too-big a smile and a press of lips to a cheek if he hasn't shoved her away or MURDERED HER by now. "Weyrleader," comes with a hint of amusement and something else, undecipherable before around his chair Risali goes, pulling up her own and settling herself into it. "Congratulations." On the clutch, she means. "The lights are pretty." And out her attention goes towards the water.

Murder Risali? Maybe in some colourful manners in his head, but at this point, Th'ero's just come to accept it like the coming of a storm. Like son, like father? RISA, stop breaking them! He'll tolerate being leaned against and the kiss to his cheek but ONLY SHE has that privilege; so long as she doesn't push him further than that. "Weyrwoman." Somewhat stiffly returned, if it wasn't for the heavy exhale that follows. Curse their mutual ranks! Even after all this time, Th'ero can't entirely thaw out enough to just joke around in an open setting like this. She's Xanadu's Weyrwoman, he's Fort's Weyrleader and thus there's some decorum and formality to follow even if Risali insists on stomping all over his ideals of proper behavior. "Thank you." Murmured near under his breath, as he nonchalantly adjusts his posture from having bent forwards to accommodate her. "They are," he agrees and now there is a faint hint of something. A smile? Maybe. "Inri insisted on it and I have to say, her taste is impeccable. It's a shame she isn't here at the moment to witness them at full dark. She has been very tired of late, but perhaps that was a result of being by Kouzevelth for the clutching."

KEEP YOUR COLORFUL THOUGHTS TO YOURSELF. It's probably the safest bet, given Risali's penchant for action over simply thinking about it. Even now, though, even after all of this time, Risali observes the stiffness of propriety, of formality, of the custom decorum she knows people — not even here in Fort, but around Pern — expect her to exhibit and she smiles, another hint of teeth as she drops her chin into her hand and curls her fingers against her lips, pinky resting against her teeth before she looks away. "She was right to insist. I'll have to ask her for some tips. I've never been very good at —" a gesture with her second hand, an exhale, a huff of laughter, "anything that tends to come more easily to most women, honestly. I probably have my Dad to thank for that, try as hard as my Mother did to reverse his touch." MISCHIEF in that glance, in that scrunch of nose before she listens and… she nods. "Hopefully she gains a little bit more energy soon, what with the candidates I'm sure you'll all be dragging in soon." And then Risali is shifting, moving to face Th'ero, tilting her head to one side as she takes him in and drums the fingers of one hand on the table. "I am technically your daughter in law, you know. You don't have to be so…" A sweep of her hand, a raise of her brows, as if THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING. "Whatever the right word for it is."

"Inri would be happy to share tips," Th'ero yields that much freely, "I'm sure." Is he? Truth be told, he's no better at understanding women, let alone their inner most thoughts or take on decor than he was in his youth. He knows nothing! But he knows some things. "I cannot imagine that living under Ila'den as a father would be easy." Was that a compliment or an insult? He delivers it so smoothly and without so much of a twitch in his expression that it could be BOTH; one and the other, masterfully woven into one bundle of subtle attitude. Now she knows where K'vir gets it from, when he's actually playing clever and not just wearing all his emotions on his sleeve! His gaze had roamed out over the shoreline again, but he turns back to her and gives the young goldrider his full attention. "Tight assed?" he smirks and carries on before she can react to that. "You are and I haven't forgotten but out here, within the public eye, we're Weyrleader and Weyrwoman of two Weyrs. There are expectations." Not that he agrees with the majority, so he does relent in some ways but not to the point that he's overly… affectionate or unguarded. "Later, perhaps, we can talk somewhere more private."

"Yes, well," Risali says around a smile and a bite down on her bottom lip, "I've heard rumors that you weren't an easy father to live under, either." BADUM, TSH. It seems like she's joking anyway, because there's nothing but humor on her face, no hints of something darker, no underlying tone of spite. And then she's laughing, because leave it to Th'ero to unexpectedly USE WORDS that she was DEFINITELY THINKING and he vocalized. Still, she listens, and when Th'ero's said his last word, Risali is looking out over the gathered people, out towards the lights, the water, the celebration of life. "Why?" Risali asks suddenly. "Why is that?" A blink, a shift of grey eyes to look at the Fortian leader. "Why are we expected to stop being people just because a dragon or two turned our lives topsy-turvy?" Brows furrow, lips shift, and Risali moves a little in her seat. "Don't you… wouldn't you rather that people love you for who you are? Or… or hate you for who you are? Not…" A gesture. "Not who you think they want you to be?"

"No, I suppose I wasn't any better." Th'ero admits with a grim smirk and a low sigh as he leans back a bit in his chair, palms smoothing out over the top of his legs. Is he uncomfortable? Maybe. But it's not from her laughter or her company — he won't admit it, but he's so far been enjoying it. She doesn't get an immediate answer, just a stoic look back as he meets her gaze and an even more grim set to his jaw. It might be sadness there or more akin to pity. Regret? Who knows. "I wish I could tell you but I don't have the answers." he murmurs, craftily dodging the majority of what she put to him. "No?" His brows furrow in genuine puzzlement. "I know who loves me and those who do not, whether I have or haven't been myself around them. Does it trouble me that I'll likely forever be known for my actions as Weyrleader? No. It's merely how my fate played out. It's who I am and who I've always been." There's a slight shrug to his shoulders and that same strange half-smile. With another sighed exhale, Th'ero will push to his feet and glance down at Risali. "I need a drink. Come with me?" To his office! Nothing shady about the offer. He's just making good on his previous suggestion. "There are a few things I would like to discuss with you, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping." Faranth forbid anyone hear him asking Risali about his son and grandson! For shame.

"I don't want to be that anymore," Risali tells him, meeting his eyes, holding them with a weight that says something else. "I don't want to be what people expect," not that she ever was. "I don't want to be just a Weyrwoman." But then she's watching him stand, and giving him a quiet smile, one that seems to grow once an invitation is extended and she… accepts, by gaining her own feet. TO BE SURE, IT WOULD BE A DAMN SHAME TO KNOW THAT TH'ERO HAS FEELINGS. Still… Risali falls in at his side, and slips her arm through his with a raise of her brows that's HALF A CHALLENGE for him to just GO AHEAD AND TRY TO DISSUADE HER FROM THIS DISPLAY. But then she's smiling once more, that hint of mischief, that more-often-than-not present humor as she pats his bicep with the hand currently not entangled with his. "Lead the way, Weyrleader." And you can be sure that Risali will be the rude that tells him how all of his grandchildren are doing — even if some of them don't carry his blood. FIGHT HER.

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