Interconnected and Important

Xanadu Weyr - The Temple of All Dooms
F'yr and Glorioth's clearing. It's expansive (thanks, Glorioth). There's a homestead with a tower. Don't you feel like you can see it?

When one lives in a homestead in a place that gets snow, and particularly when one's dragon routinely accidentally enlarges the clearing in which they live by felling trees with the RADIANCE OF HIS VALOR and idiotic heroics, a perennial task that falls to the occupant is splitting firewood to leave to season for the turn to be used on the next. Most people probably don't enjoy the task, but F'yr's rather a different story. Swinging the ax in rhythmic thunks is a good way for the former farmer to unwind, especially when the chore comes with pleasant company and beers to share. K'vir isn't called on to take a turn unless he'd like to, but there's upended logs to sit on nearby so they can shoot the breeze while the younger man works his way through pre-sawed lengths, splitting them into better sizes for either the fire pit or the various wood-eating heat sources within the homestead.

It's a pleasant time of day with setting Rukbat only touching the tops of the tree, leaving the clearing shaded and the heat of the early summer day passing off. What would a wood-cutting scene be without a shirtless F'yr, though? Let it not be said that that's the focus of either man in the clearing though. They have, instead, hit upon a rather more significant topic amid the lighter fodder. F'yr's brow wrinkles slightly giving pause to the conversation before he collects the latest split and turns to sink the axe slightly into the chopping block before moving to settle next to K'vir and reclaim his beer.

"I'm not sure if there's ever a right time to talk to people important to me about who all else is important to me, but…" He trails off rather than try to sort the end of that sentence, lifting brows in silent inquiry of permission - is it a good moment to talk about it? Maybe the words that came just before were about one or another of his important people since those names are common between these men that know no small number of them. "Seems sort of better, maybe, to get it out there between us sooner than later? In case it ends up mattering." Maybe this is him reasoning to himself, maybe he's trying to justify bringing up with K'vir when the men haven't become more involved than months gone by. They haven't been distant by any means, but no one here is in anything even vaguely resembling a rush to meander the path they've been on.

K'vir would have helped — and he almost did help — but he’s coming off a stretch of time where his duties in his Wing find him exhausted after a string of long(er) shifts; not that he tries to show it. This is “time off” for him and regardless of that, if F’yr had asked him to do it (or anything), the older bronzerider would happily do it without complaint.

So he’s content to sit on one of those upended logs, tipping the bottle he holds to his lips on occasion between lengthy silences and shooting the breeze. It’s comfortable, this moment between them. Their relationship, as it is, continues to strengthen and deepen, even if not much may be happening on the surface — and if he were any other man or a certain greenriding cousin he’d have made some remark by now on a shirtless F’yr. A worthwhile payoff, even if not the focus here and now. but listen, he’s probably had a good few looks He adopts his own frown of silent curiosity, gaze following the path of the younger bronzerider even as he settles next to him. There’s a neutral expression to greet him, but by now F’yr should know that that is a GOOD thing; he’s giving him the time he needs, while taking a little himself to shift his thoughts.

Ah, so this is to be their discussion! “If this feels right, I’m listening, F’yr.” he murmurs in that strange, almost hesitant way of his but no less genuine and honest. Is it right for K’vir? maybe not It must be enough, in some form or another, that after a brief pause, sees an equally brief furrowed look of thought. He comes to the decision that — yes, he wants to hear it. He’s also here for F’yr, shifting on his seat to turn and better face him.

GASP! No one but the people with the popcorn want to know about your illicitly stolen goggling, K'vir~~! You'll get their hopes up, and for what. For F'yr's smile tugs lop-sidedly onto his lips. "It's funny," he decides, "It's sort of easy to forget that I haven't taken a moment to tell you because it feels like you already know, maybe just because of how I'm comfortable when we're together." Would K'vir be offended if F'yr compared time spent with the older bronzerider in their companionable silences while reading and curled on a couch or amid the much of noise that having kids and no stop to activity brings on, and those moments somewhere in between in there infrequent moments spent in one another's company over the past turn+, to the ease he find snoozing in the sun or pulling on one's favorite fall sweater when the chill becomes enough to warrant it?

"And really, I'm sure you do know some, anyway. Risa, R'hyn, Ila. Though I'm not," he pauses because it's throat-clearing-worthy to keep a chuckle from sliding out, "physically involved with R'hyn or Ila." Probably, K'vir knows in exactly as much detail as Risali might want him to know about the infinitely complicated, and yet infinitely simple shape of their relationship that, like any other, is a dynamic thing ever as likely to change as be momentarily, only ever seemingly, in stasis. Those were easy, here. Funny how they were the hard names in other conversations.

This is where his brow wrinkles, but apparently so sure he is that those names don't really need more explanation given what K'vir has surely witnessed, if only peripherally, between work and home life, that he goes on. "There's Rhody, V'ro and Ru'ien." And there he stops, lips gently pressed together, watching K'vir's face, without apology but with openness for whatever might be found there, but also some small measure of preparation for should it be— uh, concerning?

“I’ll take that as a good thing, then?” K’vir murmurs in the same low and quiet way of his, with the addition of a vague smile. The comparison either settles well or has gone right over the bronzerider’s head — there’s even the chance it could be a bit of both! So no offence taken this time!

Is it perfect timing that he has his bottle raised to his mouth again? Probably not, that was completely intentional. It does the trick to keep him from pulling any sort of face to the ‘news’. K’vir knows what he knows, of Risa and F’yr and it’s never brought about a spike of jealousy or a need for him to awkwardly address anything. He’s aware of it, but it doesn’t change anything in the grander scheme of things. Oh, how much he has grown! It still takes him days time to fully grasp things, but it’s progress.

By the time he’s lowered the bottle, he makes something akin to a thoughtful sound — okay, it’s more like a grunt, in regards to R’hyn and Ila. Does he accept this, then? It seems so. There’s nothing in his expression or even his posture to signal a need to know anything more; mostly out of respect and not at all a dismissal of importance. It's as close to a ‘that’s great’ as he’s going to get, for now! F’yr's safe in his assumption, too. K’vir’s got nothing to add on those three easy names. But the next? Rhodelia brings a lift of brows, but no comment as she is not a familiar one. V’ro’s name draws a slight furrow to his brow, a tickle of memory and before he can finish making that reach and connection to a long-ago flight — there’s that last name.

F’yr will witness how K’vir’s expression tightens, like he’d just got a taste of something particularly bitter and is still indecisive whether it’s palatable. Nothing too concerning or alarming yet, right? The lingering silence shouldn’t be worrisome either and familiar enough to the younger bronzerider. He’ll eventually come around to finding the words he seeks, his gaze turning sidelong to F’yr at intervals. “Do they all know about me? Or some of them?” At least he’s going for a broader sweep first, if not a touch blunt. Which from the faint grimace, he’s aware of it (and apologetic for it). “He’s alright with it?” No need to guess to which ‘he’ he’s referring too.

It is perhaps understandable that many of the things that came before are left by the wayside in favor of putting his focus where it's most needed. The first thing F'yr seems to think this moment needs, however, is his silence. He's there, he isn't making K'vir wait, but rather, he's giving the questions time to breathe a moment. "I like to make sure my important people at least know each other's names, given how—" and here, F'yr's lips turn into a helpless lop-sided grin at the next word, "—interconnected we all are." At least he doesn't laugh, and there is a touch of a blush to his cheeks showing that he has the grace to seem a little abashed at the accident of having become somehow in the position of having two names on his important people list be related by blood to one another. Then again, four are related not by blood, three by Wing and daily work, three by shared weyrlinghood, so maybe there's a theme here, unintentional as it always has been.

F'yr makes a quieter answer that more directly answers the older bronzerider's broader question before adding, "I don't typically go into much detail. For as interconnected as we are, everything we have is private," that's each 'we,' "to me." There's a beat before he adds, wryly, "Of course, I don't have any expectation that you keep anything from those you'd like to share things with. I don't need anyone to keep secrets for me, I just prefer to keep my memories as my own treasure." Hoarder. No one look in the direction of the actual treasure trove under construction at the far section of the clearing that is Glorioth's domain; it was a necessary upgrade to the space because someone thoughtfully delivered a twelve foot tall by six foot wide painting of Glorioth at his most glorious earlier in the turn, and suffice to say F'yr has nowhere with that much flat wall space that he's willing to give up, even if he could.

"Ru'ien is supportive." F'yr starts there, apparently unbothered in all this by any bluntness - it does help cut to the heart of things quickly. "He wanted me to know that because he said the two of you don't really get along." F'yr is shifting then, up off the log and setting the beer aside to go and reach for K'vir's hand, with every intention of pulling him to his feet, at least momentarily (because that's easier than trying to get face to face with him any other way). He won't try to keep K'vir's hand unless there's some sign the man wants it to be kept through this. "I've never planned finding my people." True, blunt. "I didn't even expect to have more than one before I just … did. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable if I can help it," and the fleeting grimace shows he can't always help it.

"Things are always individual for me. You're… K'vir. Kyzen." His eyes seek the older man's, smile soft, a unique smile that has variations, of course, but this one is the one that comes out when he's with K'vir. "You happen to be related to Ru'ien, who's just Ru'ien to me. If my being with him is something that shapes our connection in one way or another because of how you need things to be…" That's not quite going right, those words, that route, so he stops, shakes his head slightly and then gives the bald bottom line: "I don't have any expectations of us, Kyzen. Just whatever we are is good with me, now, or whatever we are tomorrow, for whatever reason." Or, presumably, whatever they're not, if there's a reason to not be whatever that is. ANYONE CONFUSED YET??

To his credit, K’vir’ doesn’t laugh either, though one corner of his mouth twitches with an almost equally lop-sided smirk. Is that a bit of color tinting his ears? Maybe. POINT TAKEN, F’YR! ‘Interconnected’ is the right word and he doesn’t feel the need to expand on it beyond a minute shift in his expression that marks his agreement. He hasn’t got quite as far as to see just how they overlap — but he’ll get there (just maybe not right then).

His gaze lifts as his focus pulls away from his inner thoughts, turning instead to F’yr as he begins on his quieter answer. For a moment, K’vir frowns lightly as he attempts to disassemble and process what’s being explained; he’s likely a half-beat behind, which isn’t a terrible record for him. “So you keep us within our own circle, despite the overlap? Not secrets, just separate… but not.” Was it supposed to sound so muddled? K’vir can’t help but grimace, a partial wince at his own words and taking a swig from his beer as if to rinse the taste of his own sluggish comprehension from his mouth. There’s almost an apologetic lean to the way his gaze darts away too and returns. Would it have been better if he left it there? K’vir must’ve ignored that memo, if there was one, because he doesn’t lapse silent but speaks up in a semi-confident attempt to make his blundering less awkward (does he get pity points for trying?).

“Memories are a treasure.” K’vir’s agrees in a low murmur and if his eyes happen to glance towards that space so recently under construction, it’s purely happenstance and not some subtle joking to the ‘treasures’ placed within. There’s a passing look of disbelief at his cousin’s support, then something closer to discomfort at the knowledge — or is it guilt? His features smooth out to another grimace, half-hidden behind another sip from the bottle. “Figures he’d put it like that.” Are either of them surprised that said greenrider skims the surface of painful, difficult topics directly relating to his family? Catching F’yr’s movement and then the reach for his hand, K’vir will likewise set his bottle down and allow himself to be pulled to his feet. His hand will linger for a spell with the younger bronzerider’s, then briefly touching fingers to his wrist, his arm before falling back.

K’vir does smile vaguely for the blunt truth from F’yr on finding his people. “I don’t think you can plan that sort of thing.” he murmurs, with a light trace of amusement. He never planned to find the ones he so deeply cares for and loves either. An echo of a grimace joins the younger bronzerider’s, perhaps in parallel understanding to making people uncomfortable. WHO’S CONFUSED? K’vir is K’vir tilts his head, brows furrowing as he attempts to grasp what is being so openly shared. His gaze never leaves his, allowing a glimpse of the fleeting change in emotions as he wrestles to untangle his thoughts.

It’s obvious when he becomes more focused that he’s accepted what F’yr has told him, even if he hasn't quite finished grasping the whole picture. The same goes for the telling physical lingering in close proximity, even if they’re not quite touching. K’vir choses instead to voice a sudden thought, in his quiet and gruff ways. “If things got bad between him and I again, you’d be able to stay out of it?” Neutral, he means. “Is that what you mean?”

Fairly, "It's a bit muddled trying to explain it," F'yr's smile is briefly wry and self-deprecating again, "But that's about the gist of it. It's not hard when I'm with one of my important people, but I'll admit there are some moments when I'm alone that feel more like I'll never fully be able to explain it even to myself." This is to say that as confusing as K'vir's perception checking was, it's probably as close as they can get to an understanding. If his eyes flick toward the treasures ensconced within his property at this very moment and his lips press into a line while his expression goes blank, that would be the bronzerider not acknowledging the 12 foot by 6 foot glorious portrait in the clearing since Pern doesn't have elephants and they're not in a room.

F'yr gives K'vir the room to do his own processing, not leaving the space created, nor seeking to change it. Now is not a moment when a disruption would be helpful, he must assume because he just stands, open, there. When K'vir's demeanor shifts, F'yr's does likewise, one hands swinging ever so slightly to catch just one of K'vir's, his fingers wiggling themselves in between the older man's, managing not to laugh, but giving him a bemused smile that's full of warmth and rather communicates his opinion that these are some of the sorts of moments he enjoys sharing with K'vir. His expression shifts in the next moment to absolute deadpan. "I will have you know I put my life, limb and sanity on the line every day that I step into a room with Risali and R'hyn." HE'S HAD PRACTICE STAYING OUT OF IT WHEN THINGS GET BAD. Not that it's genuinely bad all that often, now.

But that's just to help ease the lingering tension. He will give K'vir an answer. "No." No, he will not stay out of it. If K'vir's hand seeks to leave though, there's a squeeze that's begging a moment of listen. "I won't put myself in the middle of anything," that may be closer to the answer the older man was expecting. "But would I break up a fight if it turned physical? Yes. Would I listen if either of you needed to talk and keep what I was told private? Yes. Would I feel for the person doing the talking? Yes." Does K'vir see the trend? It doesn't matter since F'yr intends to matter-of-factly lay this out so the older man knows just what he can reasonably expect.

"Would I have my own opinions about what was going on? Certainly so. Would I share them?" His lips tip up into a smile that barely keeps from being a grin, lips still touching one another. "Not unless I genuinely thought they could be of help." Quieter, and leaning a little into the small space between them, seeking to catch the man's eyes, "Would I judge you? Would it make me feel less for either of you? No. At least, not in my experience." He can't completely promise since this is kind of a new thing. "I do my best for each of my people, for each of their unique needs." The fleeting grimace again hints he does not always do it well, but he tries. "If you and Risa had some kind of disagreement," although it sounds distinctly unlikely in F'yr's apparent view of things, "I would do what I could for each of you."

Here, he closes the distance between them, if K'vir hasn't balked from it yet, his free hand slipping around the older man's waist, a pseudo embrace. "I can't promise I'll get it all right, or that what I think I can do to support you will be the right thing for you, but I won't try to fight your battles any more than I would expect you to step into mine." Nevermind that good soldier K'vir might just be the sort to be inclined to try.

K’vir’s initial reaction, even to the briefly wry and self-deprecating smile that is offered, is to tilt his head in intrigue. He hadn’t expected to be so close to the mark! There’s no protest in having one of his hands reclaimed, not with his focus turning to puzzling out what could be making F’yr withhold laughter. It’s infectious, at least, causing the older bronzerider’s mouth to twitch and curve in a light bemused smile of his own.

And there it is! The reason and now K’vir DOES laugh under his breath, however brief a spell it is. “I don’t doubt you and neither do I envy you.” Has he any idea of just how bad it was? Or could be? Probably not, but he has enough of an imagination to assume. There’s surprise at first for the ‘no’ that follows, bringing the start of a tightening to his expression, mouth pressed thinly and before he can really start to frown, he feels that squeeze to his hand. He doesn’t let go and he listens from then on out. Each point is met with an unwavering look and a gradual relaxing of his features in silent understanding as each one sinks in.

He’s caught the trend and doesn’t stop F’yr from continuing on, even if by that point K’vir has received his answer and so much more. His gaze will shift to meet his squarely when the younger bronzerider leans into the small space between them, a quiet thoughtful sound acknowledging that he’s following and agreeing so far. No big speech from his end or that many words in the wake of everything that was said — it won’t lessen the importance or the meaning, at least not for him. It’s merely that it was put so well and he sees no reason to parrot back the same. He doesn’t balk from the pseudo embrace, shifting into it naturally, welcoming it with almost little thought.

When he does speak up at last, it’s to touch on the heart of the matter. “I can work with that.” Meaning, K’vir can keep his issues with his cousin to himself, unless it ever comes about that it needs addressing. “And not just with Ru’ien, but Risali too and … anyone else who I happen to overlap.” Not that he’s particularly close to the others F’yr has named, but two are, at least, associated with by way of family connections.

F'yr is silent in his study of K'vir in the moments after he's spoken, but not because there is doubt, simply because he's leaving room in case another thought presents before he replies with a soft, "Okay." He accepts what he's being told. "If you have questions about…" A glance around the clearing leads him to tip his lips into a lopsided smile as his eyes come back, "Anything but that," that, the new building and its contents, "you can always ask." He's not promising to answer, of course, but making clear that K'vir can ask the questions that might come to him later if he wishes.

The hand F'yr is holding is briefly drawn up so he can press a kiss to the back of K'vir's hand before he's angling to let it go, to pull himself back a step before making move to reclaim his beer. If there's nothing pressing to stop him from this reorientation of bodies, the conversation can likewise move away from close topics and on to the easier or at least less relationship-direct things that are more frequently the course of their exchanges.

“Questions might come later.” K’vir admits with a light smirk, comfortable enough with F’yr to assume the younger bronzerider understands that ‘later’ could mean days and not minutes or hours. There’s a stifled laugh when the new building is referenced, a slight shake of his head but something warmer by a fraction when his gaze meets F’yr. Yes, he feels he can ask, and will, when the time(s) come.

There’s a light scoffed breath for the press of the kiss to the back of his hand, not that the gesture is wholly unwelcome — it’s just different and brings a slight and brief flush of color. If F’yr doesn’t pull himself back too quickly, K’vir will try and draw him in an embrace once his hand has been freed. One that ends with a clasp to the shoulder before that eventual step back. Beer reclaimed, K’vir will settle back where he’d been sitting before and he will gladly turn to lighter conversation. At some point, a sign that K’vir really is warming up to F’yr, is that he will start to slip in a joke (jury is still out on whether it’s good) or two. Maybe it’s the beer?

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