Things That Can't Be Said

Xanadu Weyr - Shore of Lake Caspian
The cliffs that run along the shore come and go, various weyrs nestled along the tops of them or dug into the walls, but eventually they recede enough to expose a beach. The white sand echoes the rise and fall of the cliffs with a multitude of sandy dunes, endlessly creating tiny valleys that are constantly demolished and rebuilt by the frequent arrival or departure of dragons. The dunes smooth out as the gentle slope approaches the edge of the deep blue water. The sand darkens, and a shell here and there stands out for children to collect.

/The beach narrows to the southwest, leaving a path barely wide enough for dragons in single file before cutting in to a smaller, more sheltered cove. The sands are the same white, the waters the same blue, but they're calmer and more tranquil, more protected from the winds that ruffle Lake Caspian and the currents that tug beneath the surface.

Rough, wide stairs lead up to the meadow above and the road that runs along the top of the cliffs, passing through the fields and heading for the river mouth that can be just barely seen from here. The largest of the staircases up the cliff is located near the docks that jut out onto the peaceful blue waters.

Winter is not the best time for having a beach life in Xanadu. Even in the early afternoon, the air is nippy and the sun, though bright, does little to temper the season. It is still quite pretty, though, as locations go. It also offers some unique distractions for rapidly growing baby dragons. Glorioth is the particular baby dragon out and about on the main section of the beach. He's running (he's always running) to and fro, his big brilliant nose close to the sand as he examines shell after shell. He gallops from one pocket of the things to the next. What he's looking for is anyone's guess. F'yr is standing watching his enormous responsibility (physically, emotionally and mentally). He holds a small pail in one hand, but the other is tucked into a pocket.To guard against the weather he has a worn grey sweater with just a couple of blood stains on it. His pants are equally made to deal with the weather but marred by the evidence of his current walk of life. There's a knit cap snugged onto shaggy blond locks, poking out from just beneath the brim.

No, winter may not be the best season for the beach at Xanadu but that doesn't keep some from it. Katailea is one of those who will find the beach regardless of season and today is one of those days. An undyed sweater protects from the chill of the air and while she may have been able to miss F'yr it's far more difficult (nigh impossible) to miss Glorioth. Once the young bronze is spotted green eyes are looking for the man that's sure to be not too far behind.

F'yr might have missed Katailea in turn, had it not been Glorioth's lunge in her direction. He's not anywhere near her, but his sudden move to the next patch of shells and other beachly potential treasures draws blue eyes in that direction. He raises a hand in greeting before he makes his way across the sand toward the other blonde. "Hey," is offered in further hello along with a smile, both of his hands moving to hold the bucket before him, and if he weren't so hulkingly huge, he might look boyish in that pose. "Going for a walk?" He inquires, tipping his head just slightly as his eyes study her face. The smile has faded but his lips are still tipped up at the edges. Glorioth is, at present, too engrossed in his personal quest to do more than glance in their direction, so no one's mental ear drums have to shatter yet.

A glance towards the bronze at the sudden movement, but seeing as he's still a good distance away she looks back to catch the greeting from his rider. Katailea raises a hand in turn, sending a smile in his direction and moving to help cover the sand that lies between them. "Hey," is echoed, a nod following the question of a walk. "Yeah. What about you?" the bucket getting a curious glance.

"Not walking. We don't walk anywhere anymore. Not now that the healer restrictions are lifted and my ribs are healed." That gets a grin for all that the first words were intoned with dry humor that still holds too much truth. Glorioth digs in the sand with his forepaws for a moment before snorting and moving along (RUNNING) to the next spot. It's helpful to F'yr that he's zig-zagging around and thus staying in a fairly confined area. "We're on an important quest. Highly perilous. Secret." The bronze weyrling brings a finger up to his lips in the universal gesture and turns his back ever so slightly more toward his dragon to wink at Katailea. SECRET, get it? The secret is: occupy the baby bronze. "It's going well, I think. He's being very brave in his search." There's pride for that, and maybe pride for the fact that Glorioth is putting up with whatever ruse F'yr has orchestrated (if he even realizes it's a ruse at all). "Want to keep me company for a bit? I can't say as I have much in the way of news to share, but…" He shrugs. He's here, that's about all he's got to barter with right now.

That grin is matched with one of her own and a laugh for that admission of walking being a thing of the past. "Well, either way, it's good to hear you're all healed," Katailea replies, sending a glance towards Glorioth's endless activity. "Ah," there's acknowledgement for that not of his question, a smirk following as she looks back towards F'yr. That secret is safe with her. "Looks like," noted for the bronze's bravery. "Can't say I have much either," news that is, "But that I can do." Be company, no bartering required. The blonde offers a smile in his direction as she adds, “Wanted to say thank you too.”

« LOOKS LIKE? » Glorioth stops long enough to snort and turn his face toward Katailea and his lifemate. « OF COURSE IT DOES. MY BRAVERY CANNOT LOOK ANY OTHER WAY THAN BRAVE. » And this is where Glorioth may be doubting Katailea's intelligence. F'yr clears his throat, "Glori, remember, the silence? Can't find it if you're speaking." Maybe the man just really needed a little quiet time in his brain. The dragon's rudely loud mindtouch emanates with his vexation, but he snaps himself closed. "Well done, Glorioth." The man's voice is firm and the praise is real. He holds up a 'please wait for me' hand before he jogs over to the bronze, careful not to let the few contents of the bucket escape and runs his hands over the dragon's shoulder in a physical affirmation of his approval. The dragon literally shakes. Don't worry, Glorioth is not excited by the touch, he wants F'yr to get off of him with those effeminate sentimentalities. IT MIGHT BE CONTAGIOUS. Not that this much is communicated because now, alas, he's practicing the art of silence. It doesn't stop the blond from grinning and giving one final pat before he heads back over to the blonde. "Sorry, trying a new technique with him." The weyrling man's lips press together like he would normally explain more, but a glance back over his shoulder is all the explanation he can give about why he can't, right now. Someone might be listening. "Anyway. Thanks for what?" His brows go up in guileless inquiry.

Katailea flinches given the sudden and unexpected mental assault from the bronze. Some people might be used to it, but she's still working on that. "I meant," she clarifies given a moment, "it looks like a quest and that it's going well." Nothing was intended to insult Glorioth's bravery! She nods understanding for F'yr's brief departure for affirmation with his lifemate, another following is return. She may inquire further at a later, more opportune time for answers, but for now that minimal explanation of new techniques is more than what she needs. "My locket." That's what for. "V'ro told me you asked him to help get it back." And if Jerica hasn't noticed it missing by now they should all be in the clear.

"Sorry," F'yr will flinch after she flinches and give an apology that is already too familiar, but meant every time. "He's… loud and…" Rude. He shrugs. "Are you okay?" He glances back at the bronze who snorts at whatever silent communication passed between the two. "He prefers his praises sung," the young bronzerider tries for humor in the face of things he really can't do anything about. It wasn't really that Katailea's words insulted the dragon, it's that they weren't excessive enough. "Oh," her locket, "I'm glad he got it and got it to you." There's a warm smile for that. "It seemed like… I don't know, I know you said- but…" He shrugs a little helplessly. "Sorry if it was overstepping." Nevermind that she's just thanked him for his part in it. "V'ro did all the work," obviously. "I just asked him for help." His eyes stray to her throat, as though looking for it. "I'm terrible at trading for things, but obviously V'ro…" Well, he's not. Couldn't be, right? Being a trader and all?

"It's alright," Katailea assures, even if she doesn't sound quite so sure of it. It is, she's just still working on that. "Yeah," she's fine, really, the answer given with a smile. A short laugh following for the mention of the bronze's preferences, "I'm sure I can come up with some if needed," added with a grin. The smile remains as she shakes her head. He may have overstepped what she said, but even so it's appreciated. "I know what I said and I'm sure he did," V'ro that is, said all with a hint of teasing give F'yr, as he said, only asked for help. "But he wouldn't have if you hadn't asked." So when it comes down to it getting that locket that she's not wearing back is all thanks to him, terrible trader or not.

F'yr's face shifts to a solemn expression, the smallest amount of alarm in his eyes. "Do it once and you'll have to do it again and again… and again." It's fair warning for the too willing Katailea who has no idea what she would be getting herself into. Imagine the horror if someone who sang one's praises ceased to do so and just how a heroic dragon might take that. Some pretty nightmarish consequences come to mind. As for the locket, he shrugs his shoulders, the sudden tension in them easing slightly. "If V'ro had known, he probably would've done something on his own." No, he wouldn't. But it's so sweet that F'yr thinks so well of V'ro, isn't it? "I'm just glad I knew the right person to ask." Since the task was accomplished, that means V'ro was the right person, right? His lower lip ends up under his teeth briefly before he asks, "Would it be prying to ask you to tell me about the locket?" He doesn't want to pry, see. He's nice like that.

Katailea said she could come up with something. She didn't offer any praise outright perhaps for that exact reason. "Good to know," she notes for that warning. Thankfully she doesn't have to imagine those potential consequences because they're not something she's even thought about. Sorry F'yr, you're on your own there. "Probably," she agrees of the green weyrling. Maybe not, but they can both give him the benefit of the doubt in this instance. She just won't tell F'yr he filched it, no judgement here. "No," she replies with a shake of her head. It wouldn't be prying, at least in her opinion. "It's just a necklace."

"But a necklace that means something to you?" Katailea may have told F'yr that it isn't prying, but this fairly mundane description does seem to discourage him from taking a terribly direct route of inquiry. His blue eyes do search her face, a single brow puckered slightly down as he considers her. "Was it… a gift?" He tries, tilting his head just slightly as he looks at her. That bucket shifts from both hands to just one and at some silent something he glances over at the bronze before looking back to the blonde.

"Sure, I guess," Katailea replies. It means something, but probably not what he's trying not to pry after. The necklace is fished from her pocket and offered for him to see with a bit of hesitation. She just got it back, yet she knows he's not going to keep it from her either. "Just a necklace," as if showing it might prove that. It's nothing terribly fancy, a fairly standard heart-shaped thing on the end of a simple chain. The somewhat tarnished gold in otherwise decent standing given its older than both of them together. A gift? "No," the answer comes with a shake of her head. "I found it when I was a kid and …" How to best explain? Her lips press together as she considers her words. "Like your dictionary. You said it was your first book of your own. It's the one thing that's really mine."

The way Katailea responds has F'yr's lips pressing together. He looks from the woman to the necklace that is produced, but his free hand tucks away into his pocket. He doesn't reach for her treasure although his gaze certainly takes it in. He can nod for that explanation, because that is something he can appreciate when she puts it in those terms. "I'm glad you got it back," is what he eventually says before glancing down toward his bucket and back toward his still searching bronze. He's silent some long moments after that. "Still working on the docks?" See that topic change? Evidently the weyrling doesn't have any more willingness to pry further.

When he doesn't take it it's tucked safely away again, but she did offer. That's something. "Me too," Katailea can certainly, and easily, agree with that, though a flicker of a frown may be caught beneath that smile of hers. The subtle flick of fingers that may have been the thought to reach for his hand, but could just as easily be nothing more than idle movement. Green eyes take those moments of silence instead to turn back towards the lake. "Yeah," she replies, a nod confirming that she is still working on the docks. "And you, lessons are good?" Weyrling lessons and training that is.

It's not that F'yr doesn't see the lake anymore, or admire it, it's just that his gaze, when unoccupied, is naturally gathered in by one of the new gravitational points of his universe: Glorioth. While Katailea watches the lake, he watches Glorioth. If there was a flick of fingers, he appears to have missed it, but given the age of his dragon maybe it's for the best just now. "That's good," is an automatic sort of response to working on the docks since she doesn't offer more about that particular part of her life. He gives a rock to his shoulders that also gets a movement of his head. It's yes-and-also-no. "Still a lot to learn. We're just barely beginning the book learning, and that's… quite the integration. It's not something he's fond of. He'd rather be out and doing, but at least now I can go out and do with him and not be in pain, so that's helping us along, I think. I didn't quite realize while my ribs were cracked just how much that was clouding my ability to connect with him. We're doing a lot of looking at rider etiquette and things this month. It's gotten me thinking about what it means to be a rider, which maybe I should've spent more time thinking about," even though he did do some thinking about it, and even some time hearing stories from other riders about what their lives were like. "It's not like there's Thread to fight anymore," and hasn't been for longer than his lifetime-and-more. "Glori probably would've been happier back when there was." There's a fond smile for the dragon. "Have you… thought more about standing for Leirith's eggs?" He asks quietly. It is sort of a natural segue. His life as a rider to her possible future as a rider? It has to have been on his mind at least somewhat for him to make that leap.

Likewise Katailea sees Glorioth, but is not so focused on him for perhaps the opposite reason. The blonde tosses a smile over to him at that yes-no answer, assurance if nothing else. Sort of is almost always better than a full on no in these matters. Right? "Glad to hear its helping though," being healed helping the pair of them connect. "I guess it sort of makes sense." Not something that she (or he it would seem) would have thought of but when it's pointed out its in some regard logical. A nod then as he continues on for what's coming up and what it has him thinking on. "It's not, but from what I know its probably for the best," Thread no longer being an issue. "Maybe he would have, but I'm sure the two of you will find the right place. And then there's that question, again. If she says yes will he stop asking? "Suppose it wouldn't hurt," figuratively there's F'yr next to her as a case point even if he's managed to heal up by now. "But if I do and I don't impress, then what? Do I stand again? Stand at another Weyr?"

"Yeah. Maybe it wouldn't have been the right kind of enemy for him anyway. Thread was a… save everyone kind of enemy. He…" F'yr purses his lips and then takes a breath and sighs out a breath, shrugging. Whatever he might have said about his lifemate, he doesn't say it in front of him. "He's very brave," he finally says, to finish the thought though it's obviously not the original or even the intended direction. He does manage to keep a straight face while saying it, though, so maybe he even believes it. He turns his face a little to look down at the blonde to add, "You'd be very brave too. To stand, and stand again. It's not an easy thing, I'm told. People do it. I mean, Rhody stood six times. Aja called it quits after the same number, you know?" He presses his lips together. "You should only do it if you want to. I think it's important, but it's not my life, you know. Mine is this one." He gestures to the bronze, and briefly there's that breathtaking look of intense love for the big bronze idiot over there. It softens F'yr's face and removes some of the new strain lines before he looks down at her. "It depends on what you want from your life, you know. I know that's not an easy question to think about. But… I mean, if you ever need to talk at someone…" He's occasionally available.

Curious, quizzical as to what he might have said to finish that thought, but since he's not saying Katailea's not asking. Not now, since it seems at least that there's a reason for not. "I know," she says of Rhody and Aja times on the sands. "It's not that I don't want to," she tries, that gesture causing her to send a glance towards the bronze as well a flicker of a frown crossing her features for it. "No, its not," an easy question, "With an answer that can change. And thank you," she adds for his offer. "I know you'd listen but I don't know that I should ask you to do that for me. Not now," the blonde explains with a nod in Glorioth's direction.

"When he's asleep," F'yr replies immediately, "which," the words slow as he is forced to admit, "is still unpredictable. But if he's asleep, I could listen. I promise not to get upset, if that's…" what she's concerned about. He probably realizes how self-centered this makes him sound because his whole face pinches and groans, his hands rubbing across his face. "Sorry. I'm an idiot and he's rubbing off on me." Of course that's not the reason. "Anyway, if you want, I'm happy to listen when he's asleep. It's easier to speak more freely because he's not always listening in." Like he just so happens to be at this exact moment judging from the way that a helm-embossed head turns their way with a rumble and a snort. F'yr turns back with a comically exaggerated press of his finger to his lips and the bronze sighs. He grins as he looks back to Katailea. "This will never last as a tactic, but it's got its advantages." For now. For this moment. "I don't think any of us would take it back, for whatever it's worth. Even with the new challenges we're all dealing with." He shrugs and glances back to the bronze.

"You're not," Katailea assures quickly, a smile finding her lips an expression that's the opposite of his grimace. "Don't apologize, I might not be going through the same thing that all of you are," him and the other weyrlings learning to symbiotic with their dragon half, "but I can tell its not always easy." He's said as much. "I just don't want to get in the way. I can wait, he can't." Even if she doesn't necessarily want to she understands that. She can't help but laugh at that grin however, "Probably not." But if it's working for now she's certainly not going to complain. "I'm glad you found him," maybe a tiny bit jealous, but she'd likely not admit to it. "It's what you wanted, to be a dragonrider. And if you still want to talk when he's asleep, you just need to let me know."

"I'll try to send a note one of these times. The others seem to be getting on some kind of normal schedule, but he just… goes and goes and goes," F'yr gesticulates in kind, flapping his free hand into the air. "And then crashes." Don't mind that disbelieving snort from the bronze who's supposed to be being quiet. He's probably 100% sure he never, ever, ever, has crashed in the whole of his life. He's never even been tired. Not once. That this is leaking loudly without words but with the backdrop of clashing weapons and the heat and sizzle of flame is probably why F'yr is grinning and then laughing. When he looks to Katailea, his expression is proof as to why there aren't regrets. Even with all the challenges, who could regret love of the purest, deepest kind? Not this man. "Your lifemate might be coming along, you know. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't been there, and I… I can't imagine how you're feeling. I'm sorry. If you… ever need to just hit me because I keep talking about eggs and standing, you can go right ahead. I'll probably realize what you don't want to talk about, if you do." He gives her a lop-sided smile that's good natured but the offer is probably genuine both in what she can do about it and also what it might take for F'yr-who-is-sometimes-very-dense to understand when she doesn't want to talk about something that he does, for all that he's been known to be sensitive about such things in the past, perhaps overly so, even.

Katailea laughs, "I've seen him go." If nothing else, she's seen that of Glorioth. Her expression falls flat as he goes on, though it only lasts a second before the corners of her lips to twitch with a smile. "If he hadn't you'd be standing for Leirith's eggs," she points out, that was after all his plan all along. "Just like if there hadn't been a storm that night I'd be on the other side of Pern right now." The blonde laughs again however at that grin of his, a slight tilt of her chin providing a subtle nod. "I'll keep that in mind," she adds in a tease, "Sometimes F'yr might need a good knock upside the head." He has his moments, that’s for certain. “For the record,” this in a somewhat more somber tone, “Sometimes it's okay to pry.”

F'yr is supposed to be respecting boundaries, especially in light of his young lifemate, but… well, his lips press so hard together when she speaks about the storm that it's inevitable that some kind of breaking point has to come. Glorioth's sharp glance their way might give Katailea time to evade the large arms engulfing her in a hug. When she said it was okay to pry, that isn't the same thing as saying it's okay to push someone's boundaries, but he hugs her like maybe it's the only time he'll ever be able to do so (because now maybe she'll hit him), but it's the kind of hug that can't leave much room for doubt that she's somewhere she's wanted. And just as abruptly as it game, at the low rumbling of the bronze that sounds distinctly cranky, the arms are removed and he's rocking back, his face flushed and expression sheepish in the extreme. "Sorry," is a mumble. "Maybe I should…" run away now? He looks at his bucket. "Help him," is the lame ending as he aims to take another step back away from her.

No, prying and personal boundaries while similar in some respects are very much different. Surprise is first at the unexpectedness of that hug, surprise that lasts less than a breath before she's returning it because this time (maybe she should hit him) Katailea's taking what's offered and embracing it (pun intended). That is perhaps exactly what she needed and the awkward that might follow will just be the price they have to pay. It's the warning from Glorioth sees her mirroring his movement in putting space back between them. "Sorry," echoed in the same moment as she sends a glance towards that irritated bronze. "Probably," she agrees to his maybe, green eyes turning back to find his blue. Because that's how it works, baby dragons take priority.

"No, no." F'yr tries to allay that apology, "You're fine." And, "He's getting better about me touching people," maybe if he says it often enough it will become true? But hey, Glori's not charging anyone, so this is an improvement. "I just…" he trails off as there's another rumble from the bronze. "I just need to go do that," he points at the bronze, which is not at all what he started to say, but it's what it needs to be now. He offers Katailea a muted smile. "I'll send you a note whenever there's a good moment when he's crashed." He'll try, anyway, although it probably won't be swift in coming. Such is the busy life of weyrlings. Then he turns away from the blond to go examine the current pile of possible treasures that are keeping that bronze occupied. Glorioth, for his part, seems to relax once F'yr is at his side, touching his big shoulder with one hand in an absent pat. Even if the bronze wouldn't admit it anywhere anyone but F'yr could ever hear, sometimes — just sometimes — he gives away his own need for his rider in these tiny gestures.

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