December 16, 2003
In a surprise turn of events, SOMETHING happens between R'hyn and Cardixa.

Previous Next

You head through the narrow tunnel and into the bustling living caverns.

The late hour and inconvenient weather have driven many to their weyrs and rooms, and the cavern is only sparsely populated -- mostly by insomniacs and various members of the kitchen staff. The hearthfires are flickering comfortably in their various corners, and Cardixa is seated by one of the furthest ones, staring quietly into the flames and sipping at a mug of something that steams.

R'hyn's jacket is wet with melting hail - and as he enters, his movements shake water onto the ground about him. As he strides, he slicks his now frizzy hair back from his face, shaking out the damp as, having sought about a mug, he seeks the hearths -- and warmth. There's a spare seat near Cardixa's, and this is where R'hyn seats himself, divesting himself of his jacket once he's set his mug down upon the nearest table.

Cardixa barely turns away from the fire, one leg propped up on an adjacent chair, both hands cupping the mug between them. Her head pivots slightly sideways, her eyes darting to follow -- and when she can't just look anymore, she turns more fully, but slowly, faint surprise masked by the flickering light just feet away. She sips.

"Oh," says R'hyn, apparently just noticing Cardixa for the first time - smiling. "Hey, Dix. You're up late?" A querying note is visible within his voice, as though he's not quite sure on that count. His jacket is set down upon the floor, close enough to the hearth to dry out a little, and he reaches to pick up his mug again.

Cardixa's fingers move on her cup. "It would seem that I am," she says, her voice colored by a kind of amused irony. Whether it's what's in her mug, the weather, the hour, or all of the above, her usual formality is tempered somehow. "And yourself?"

R'hyn sprawls - though he manages to look mostly awkward and graceless in the attempt. "Late sweeps," he explains, in his usual quiet tone, "And I'm too restless to go and sleep. I think it's the weather."

Midnight comes and goes on this spring night. A blanket of gray clouds cloaks the skies: Rain might be forthcoming but, for now, the air is still and humid. The spring air is cool with an edge of perpetual humidity. (64F, 18C)

"Crummy night to be doing sweeps," the brownrider replies sympathetically, shifting in her seat a little. "The weather. Yeah. Precipitation usually puts me to sleep, but." But not tonight.

R'hyn, swallowing, with a grimace, a mouthful of that which is in his mug (too hot? Perhaps), nods his head. "E'van seems to have a liking for doing it to me. Though," he adds, reflectively. "Whenever the new queen arrives, and is proddy, he'll have me on day sweeps constantly - or out of the weyr entirely." Setting his mug down again, he turns to consider Cardixa more closely. "Does it?"

Cardixa snorts softly, neither disparaging nor approving of E'van. Avoiding the issue neatly and entirely, she opts to address his question instead. "Mm. Rain, mostly." She smiles secretly into the fire. "Reminds me of Viasseth, somehow."

"Rain does?" R'hyn smiles, tilting his head back against the back of his chair. Reflectively, he remarks, "Towels, warmed in front of the hearth, tend to remind me of Arisvath. I believe that might classify me as strange."

Cardixa snorts again, more patently amused, turning away from the fire more fully. "*Watching* the towels might classify you as strange. The towels themselves..." She smirk-smiles, if that's possible. "Well. Everyone likes a warm towel." Is she mocking him? Hard to tell.

R'hyn, wrinkling his nose, admits, "They're not all that interesting to watch. Not even the ones with fluffy ducks on them my mother used to make." He straightens, hesitantly. "Well. I suppose so. I do. It's nice, especially in weather like this. Cozy, and all." He opens his mouth to say something more, and, quite suddenly, stops. Perhaps he's realised how dull he sounds, talking about the weather.

Cardixa doesn't appear to be bored in the slightest. In fact, she quirks her head a little towards one shoulder, regarding the bronzerider through slightly narrowed eyes. "No one knew about the ducks when you were Weyrleader, I hope."

R'hyn's face turns slightly pink, though that's not unusual. "Knowing my luck, it's entirely possible. Mother does talk, you know. Her little boy with the ducky towels as Weyrleader, and all."

Cardixa snorts back in her throat -- the ragged sound usually indicative of abruptly stifled laughter -- and immediately turns it into a series of polite throat-clearings and klah-sippings. "Yes. Well. If it's any consolation, I didn't hear about it until just now." Pause. "--They were *fluffy* ducks, you say?"

"Oh, laugh if you want," says R'hyn, almost dolefully - it's a fine line. "Well. You didn't Impress until towards the end, and all. I'm sure loads of people knew, and still do." Scrunching his eyes shut, he remarks, "I probably /shouldn't/ be admitting to this. Even if I am 'just a bronzerider', and not important and all. They, er, were, yes. Fluffy. And blue."

Cardixa's face does all *kinds* of interesting things as she fights valiently against her laughter. "If they knew, they didn't tell me," she manages, carefully reschooling her expression into a relatively believable straight face. "I'm not--" And then he specifies what color they were. "--Blue." Fluffy blue ducks on a bronzerider's towels. Her visage cracks. Oh, how she fights it!

R'hyn turns abruptly scarlet. "I talk to much!" he mutters, ducking his head - it's hardly an accurate statement. "Shut up. It's not /that/ funny. It's not as though I chose them. Mother was bored, and she wanted to do something to help me." Some help.

"I'm sure they were darling," Cardixa assures, *trying* to be helpful. She's managed not to laugh, although her eyes have gone quite a bit more moist than they were a minute or so ago. "I apologize," she adds, following another brief interlude. "I get a little... silly... at night."

"/Darling/," groans R'hyn, shutting his eyes. "Oh, laugh if you must. It's not as though I care." Much. His shoulders slumping, he opens his eyes again, rolling them quietly. "Oh, really? I wouldn't have guessed. Can I be silly, too, and claim that I was just teasing? Please?" That last is nearly in a whisper - he's mortally embarrassed, it seems.

Cardixa doesn't look *abashed*, exactly, but... good-naturedly repentant. "I won't laugh. I'm sorry. It's--" Dare she say it? "It's sweet." She hastily looks into her mug -- almost empty. Curses.

R'hyn mmphs, turning his head away. "If you like. Just... don't spread it, mmm? I don't want," he heaves a big sigh, "everyone else in the weyr to know. So," his voice is forced into an unnatural brightness, a little hoarse. "Um. Any real reason why you couldn't sleep?"

Cardixa darkens, then, slumping and sighing in a way that divulges the truth of her exhaustion. "I'm physically tired," she confesses, "but my brain won't be still. The weyrlings-- they're graduating soon; you know. And this will be their first Fall-- I have to watch them, think about who I want in my Wing, re-arrange all my formations to accomodate the new numbers..." Lines suddenly stand out in her brow and around her eyes that weren't there moments ago -- lines that shouldn't be there for another decade at least. She smiles wanly. "Well. My brain won't be still."

"Guess that's what makes you a good leader. Thinking about all that stuff, " says R'hyn simply, bobbing his head in acceptance of this litany of issues. "And here you are, just moping over your thoughts. That's not going to help you sleep, though."

"I know," she says resignedly, staring down into her mug. "Klah won't, either. But I figured... if I'm going to be awake, I should be *awake*. I'll sleep soon." She tries to sound sure, but fails.

R'hyn's brows lift, quietly. "Sure you will," he says, in a low tone. "You should try hot milk. Mother always used to give that to me, and it seemed to work well enough."

Cardixa looks askance at him, a softly intrigued smile playing at one corner of her mouth. "Yeah?"

R'hyn nods quietly, almost with enthusiasm, though he's too languid for it to be overwhelming. "With some cinnamon, and maybe some other spices. It tastes good that way, too. Would you like me to get you some?"

Cardixa lets her smile broaden just a little more. "Sure." She lowers her mug to her lap, looking in for the millionth time. "This is cold, anyway."

R'hyn wrinkles his nose, as he stands up. "Cold klah is not worth even looking at," he says, with a brief smile, as he reaches out his hand. "I'll put that way from you, while I'm there."

Cardixa looks at the offered hand blankly for a second. "--Oh! Yes. Thank you." Erk.

R'hyn accepts the mug, though his expression is slightly bewildered and Cardixa's response. He disappears for a few minutes, heading into the kitchen.

Cardixa takes the opportunity to hide her face in both hands, groaning some kind of self-deprecating something-or-other until, satisfied with whatever it is that she's said, she lets her hands drop to her lap, fingers dragging down her face as she goes.

R'hyn's return, of course, is late enough that he misses any signs of this. He carries two mugs, both steaming, the first of which he offers Cardixa, whilst the second is set aside his previous mug - evidently, he forgot to take this one back, as well. "Here," he says, smiling shyly. "Hope it helps."

Cardixa takes it gingerly, careful not to spill, and returns his smile with the slightly more confident equivalent. "Thank you." She tests slowly and then, satisfied she won't be burned, takes a long drink. "--that's a lot better."

"Good," says the bronzerider, picking up his own again to sip at it measuredly. "You're welcome. It's no trouble." There's a smile, there - just brief, a quirk of his lips.

Cardixa smiles over the edge of her mug, and lapses into thoughtful silence as she sips. A few moments go by, and when about a quarter of the cup is drained, she asks cautiously, "How are things with Serriena?"

R'hyn's face immediately is drawn into a grimace. "She's still love-sick. I..." He hesitates, as if unsure about spilling his 'secrets' again, then shrugs. "I find it hard. I don't like to disappoint her, but it's just not going to happen."

Cardixa's eyes flicker as her eyebrows push closer to one another. "What are you going to do?"

There's a marked slump in R'hyn's shoulders, and tell-tale signs of embarrassment become evident both in stance and expression. "I told her that maybe, if I didn't find what I was looking for, things might work out later. In a few turns." That's regret. Without a doubt.

"You lied." There isn't a trace of accusation in the brownrider's voice-- just the simple truth, untouched by judgment. "Why?"

R'hyn nods. Just once, just shortly. "It felt easier. It's stupid, because it gives her hope and there isn't any, but... It gives me more time. Maybe she'll stop crowding me so much."

Cardixa looks a little confused. "She'll stop crowding you if she thinks she still has a chance with you?"

R'hyn's nose wrinkles. "I was thinking, since I told her that it would be in a few turns, no sooner, she'd give me my space to come to my own realisation that I couldn't do better. That's stupid, isn't it?"

"Well," Cardixa muses as she goes for a few more sips of milk, "I don't think it's *stupid*, but-- I just don't think it's very sensible. You're just delaying the inevitable; you have to deal with her eventually. You obviously feel bad about the lie."

R'hyn's head bobs again, dismally. "I do." Sighing - heavily - he asks, "What do /you/ think I should do? And don't tell me that I should just tell her again that I don't feel anything for her. It didn't precisely work the last time." He swallows a mouthful of his milk, turning the mug within his hand.

Cardixa leans back in her chair, legs crossing under the table as she stares thoughtfully over her cup. "Well-- I'm not sure that what I would do makes sense for you. I'm not a kind person, you know. And you are." One could almost hear some of that irony back in her voice, but it could just as well be imagined. In all likelihood, she's dead serious. "But I *will* say that there's a difference between saying 'I don't feel anything for you' and 'I don't want you.'"

"It wasn't precisely kind of me to lie to Serriena," remarks R'hyn, in a muted tone, though he nods his head, accepting Cardixa's words. "I guess so. Mmph. I should never have said yes in the first place - though I guess I wouldn't want to be without Rhyena." His gaze is turned back to Cardixa; he meets her eyes, thoughtfully, then takes another sip from his mug.

"Doing something cruel once doesn't make you a cruel *person*," the Wingleader points out evenly, pointedly returning his gaze. "Ignorant, maybe, or confused. But that's all. Just don't make it a habit." She drinks a bit more, holding the gulp in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. "Of course," she says, about Rhyena.

"That, coming from you?" R'hyn hesitates. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. You're not cruel. Not nice, as you said yourself, but not, at least in my experience, cruel. I'll try. It makes me feel nasty enough to want to avoid it, anyway."

Cardixa is unmoved. "I'm not offended. You're right. -- Just... do what you think you need to do. And remember, too," she adds, propping one elbow on the table, "that holding a lie in for a long time feels a lot worse than telling a harsh truth once and getting past it." She frees one hand from her mug to hold it palm-up. "That's... really all I can tell you. I don't want to be presumptuous enough to try and tell you what to do."

R'hyn's mug, only the dregs left within it, is set down upon the table aside the previous one, as the bronzerider nods thoughtfully. "Wise," he says, just quietly, with another of his fleeting smiles. "Thanks, Cardixa. I do appreciate it. You're... a good friend, I guess."

Cardixa's own mug isn't far behind, as far as its emptiness goes. She holds onto it a little longer, though, turning it in its place on the tabletop. "You're welcome -- or... thank you. Both." A beat. "I haven't heard that in a while."

"No?" R'hyn's surprised, visibly so. "I wouldn't expect that. I mean, you're not /warm/, as such, but... You don't have many friends, then? That must be lonely. I guess I don't have many, either, but there's family, and Serriena, and Rhyena." He stops, abruptly, apparently aware that he's beginning to ramble.

Cardixa ducks her head to hide something on the border between embarassment and shyness -- they're both highly uncharacteristic emotions, and she handles them awkwardly, looking anywhere but at his face. "I have family," she says after a time, "but I don't see them as often as I'd like. And I'm-- so busy. Even for friends. For family. For anyone." Deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. She's said too much, now, but seems reluctant to stop.

R'hyn lowers his own gaze a little, as if to protect his companion's modesty, as it were. "Even as Weyrleader, I had time for family. And friends. It's not hard to make time, if you try." His voice is pitched low, quiet enough so that it hardly carries at all. "That's sad. To be alone."

Cardixa is quiet for a long time. When she speaks again, it's almost a whisper, spoken directly into her lap. "I have Viasseth, and-- I love him. You know. Of course. But--" She sighs then, and runs a hand over her face, her scalp, back to loosening bun, where it lingers before dropping away. "I'm sorry. It's stupid."

"Of course you do." R'hyn's voice is-- soothing? Yes, it's soothing. Soft, and gentle. "No, it's not stupid. It's okay, you can tell me, if you like. You know about the ducks. And Serriena. And all."

Cardixa closes her eyes hard, nostrils flaring hugely in a tense, long inhalation. Another long minute goes by before she says flatly, her eyes opening fully, "It's been a long time since I've been-- with someone." She fumbles it a little, and tacks on angrily, "I feel like such an ass, saying it. I usually don't pity myself like this."

R'hyn shrugs his shoulders easily, noting only, "We all do it, from time to time. I think it's human. Just... let it happen." Listening, his head cocked to the side in thoughtful repose, he offers a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I... I know how you feel. Aside from flights - and there aren't many that Arisvath wins, these days - I haven't," he flushes, "since Serriena. Rhyena's over two turns old."

"Sounds about right," she says on another long exhalation, looking from her lap to the fire. "Wouldn't you know," she adds, looking back at him with a droll smile, "the last person I was with was Shiae, when Viasseth caught Carianth. Shiae!" It's funny. Really. She comes down a notch, though, with a whuff. "I don't-- I don't *need* someone. I don't need to be reliant on anyone for... emotional fulfillment. But it... it would be *nice*."

"Not interested in the ladies-- or just Shiae in particular?" asks R'hyn, not without a smile. "I've never been... lucky enough to 'catch' Shiae. Though we've chased." Twining his fingers together, his legs stretched out in front of him, R'hyn nods. "There's not many things we need. But... yeah," he agrees, sighing heavily, still pink. "It'd be nice. I--" he shakes his head, cutting off what he was saying to say something else. "It makes me feel a little stupid for turning Serriena down, you know?"

Cardixa smirks, then. "It's-- Shiae. I think she's great, but she's-- Shiae. And Carianth." That, apparently, should say it all. "Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't *know*, but. I know." Le sigh. She stares mournfully at her empty mug.

R'hyn, wryly, remarks, "It sums it up perfectly, doesn't it? She's Shiae." He reaches across to the table to pick up his mug again, playing with the handle, fidgeting. "You don't even have any prospects? I mean... there's no one you'd, erm, proposition?"

A whole range of expressions races across Cardixa's face in a matter of seconds. Surprise, mostly, and embarassment, and a slew of other things that don't really have names but turn her pink just the same. "I could think of one or two people," she says at last.

R'hyn, too, is much with the pinkness. "My tongue got away with me. How funny. I... I'm /shy/." He adds, touching his pinkened cheek, "Um. But, yeah. Take the initiative. I mean-- I know I'm stupid saying that. I'm not exactly-- but still. You could."

Cardixa gathers herself slowly, carefully, before she looks up straight into his face, unblinking and-- and something. There's *something* there, in her eyes. What is it? "And yourself?" she asks coolly. The gears are turning. "Is there anyone you'd... proposition?" She falters a little, but barely -- she maintains her gaze, anyway.

R'hyn all but squeaks. "Me? Hah! I blush when-- when people even talk about it!" His eyes, however, are slightly shifty, and he doesn't quite manage to meet Cardixa's eyes.

The depth of the spring night settles in, long and dark. A blanket of gray clouds cloaks the skies: Rain might be forthcoming but, for now, the air is still and humid. The spring air is cool with an edge of perpetual humidity. (66F, 19C)

"Right, I forgot," she says, backing off. That something is gone, and in its place is... disappointment? And chagrin, too, like she's berating herself. There's silence for a while. "...I should... go to bed."

"I, um," says R'hyn, struggling with something. "Could see you home." Flimsy. Yes.

Cardixa looks at a patch of air somewhere between her lap and his. "--Sure." And then-- and here's the *really* clever part-- "We could go up the stairs." You can hear the mental slap.

R'hyn's expression is jumbled - relief, apprehension, confusion, anything and everything. "All right. Um, that'd be good. I used to have a weyr up there. It's good. Having, um, the stairs."

Cardixa doesn't look much better. "Yes. It's nice. The stairs." Oh, the cleverness. But she manages to compose herself long enough to look at him again, genuine gratitude written on her face. "Thank you."

R'hyn's body-language positively reeks of bashfulness. He smiles, hesitantly. "You're, uh, welcome. It's no problem." He stands, offering - against, with the hesitance - his hand. "Shall we?"

Cardixa smiles shyly, and nods, slipping her hand into his, clutching gratefully as she rises. "We shall indeed."

Previous Next