February 22, 2004
Pregnancy and abortion play heavily within a conversation between Cardixa and R'hyn - the former proving how much she actually cares for the latter, by still finding him desireable when he's complete with snot and sneezing.

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R'hyn blows his nose as if it were a foghorn, wipes, and then shoves his handkerchief up his sleeve. His hands he wraps around a mug of something hot, the steam rising, hunching forward over the edge of the table - he's off in one corner, near the hearth.

Cardixa has changed out of her riding gear into more comfortable evening clothes, and is looking relatively calm and relaxed as she strides easily into the cavern. Her first glance around the room is only cursory, so she misses R'hyn the first go-round -- but once she's gotten her mug of klah and has had a chance to look around more thoroughly, it's only a few seconds before she picks him out. Concerned lines spring up in her brow, and she makes a line for his table. "Hey. What are you doing down here?"

R'hyn sets his mug - tea, it looks like - down upon the table, and glances upwards, drawn by the sound of Cardixa's voice. "Oh, hey," he says, apparently trying very hard to keep the snuffle out of his voice. "I really ought to stock tea in my weyr, so I can just make it myself. But it's warmer here." He sneezes, hastily grasping for his handkerchief again, somewhat apologetically.

Cardixa drags a chair over to get all nice and close-like, apparently not worried about contracting whatever germs R'hyn might inadvertently share with her. Her own mug cradled in both hands, she says, "You didn't tell me you were sick."

"Just came down with it this morning," R'hyn promises, quickly - though not without a somewhat guilty note to his voice. "Shouldn't have watched the storm from the beach, I suspect." He turns in his chair, so as to better be able to face her, and smiles. "You're okay, though? You look good. As, er, always." Indelicate sniff.

Cardixa snorts. "You can't get sick from being cold or wet. I bet you caught something from that bluerider... what's his name? That runty one in your Wing, the one who's always ill. Stay away from that guy." At the subject change, she sips carefully from her mug. "Thank you. I'm fine." She watches his face as he sniffs, not without sympathy. "Have you seen the Healers yet?"

R'hyn sips slowly, and admits, with a smile, "I know - Mother always used to blame it, though. Er, you mean J'vend? I, er, don't /try/ and go near him or anything. But..." He shrugs off whatever he was going to say, then nods. "Just a cold, they say. I don't feel bad, or anything - just sniffly. Careful you don't get it."

"Pft. I don't get sick quite that easily," Cardixa assures through a half-smirk. "--But I'll be careful. And you, too. Drink lots of fluids, and all. I won't get maternal on you about it, but... you know." Don't die, and stuff. "Beyond that, how've you been the past day or two?"

"Wish I were like that," admits R'hyn, wistfully, nodding rapidly. "Of course. I-- yeah, I'll look after myself. Thanks." He digs into one pocket of his pants, then the other, and comes up with a clean handkerchief to blow his nose with. "Oh! Good. We've been working on a new maneuver, and I think it's coming together really well."

Cardixa rotates her mug between her hands before taking another sip. "Yeah, I heard some mention of that at the last staff meeting. I'm really interested in seeing it-- I might come and watch your next drill."

R'hyn wrinkles his nose as he admits, "For all my dislike of E'van, he's-- he's not bad. More concerned with /keeping/ his position than anything, but he's okay. It's a good maneuver. You should try it with your wing, if it suits your style." He rolls his handkerchief carefully, so that he doesn't have to touch the part of it that he's used, and carefully puts it away.

Cardixa nods thoughtfully. "People are often so quick to criticize him -- and I've been guilty, too -- but for all his flaws... he's a good Weyrleader. He gets things done." Her klah arm stretching out across the table, the other hand resting in her lap, she turns to stare into the fire.

"Yeah. Between him and Ainsley..." R'hyn trails off, but gives a contented nod. "'course, it could all change again, when Hallisenth goes up. But, um, we don't have to take about politics. How's your wing going?"

"I don't mind politics," Cardixa says. "The Wing's fine. I had to transfer one of our pregnant riders into Ainsley's Wing today. She -- the rider -- was extremely apprehensive about it, to put it tactfully. I can't imagine why." Sip.

R'hyn turns his head curiously, wondering out loud, "Apprehensive? About being pregnant - or flying in that wing? I suppose it must be different, to suddenly be flying down there. Women's own club, kind of thing, and the difference in actual technique." He stretches out, sniffing - but lightly; whatever the healers have given him is having some effect.

Cardixa snorts softly, shaking her head. "Apprehensive about being in that Wing. Ainsley intimidates her. She spent half an hour 'reasoning' with me about it, trying to delay the inevitable. But I'm having difficulty keeping her from Betweening, and she'll be bulging soon anyway. She's just going to have to come to terms with it. Kiora's going to break her in, anyway, and that won't be so terrible." An ironic smile draws the corners of her mouth towards her eyes. "Can't be much worse than working under me, anyway."

R'hyn laughs, though not unkindly. "I feel for her, a bit. I mean, Ainsley intimidates me, too. But more in the... she seems to want to win me over. Which feels strange. But-- well, Kiora is far from intimidating, and Serriena's not... not most of the time, anyway. So I bet she'll find that it's not as bad as all that." Grinning, as he picks up his mug again, he agrees, "You're not exactly un-intimidating, when you want to be, either."

Cardixa grins. "That's the irony. She's really stuck between a rock and a hard place, but she'll probably have it much easier with Serriena and Kiora than with me. My 'seconds aren't known for their sympathy, either. But she won't be doing any heavy duty maneuvering for the next few trimesters, and she's mostly over her morning sickness. It won't possibly be THAT bad."

"And not so many months before she can't actually fly 'fall at all," agrees R'hyn, head shaking. "Still, poor girl. First child? She's probably nervous enough as it is, and this only compounds it. Pregnant women can be pretty unreasonable at times, though."

Cardixa gives a dispassionate shrug. "It was her decision. I'm sure it's not an easy one to make, but that's just what you get when you're a dragonrider with a baby -- which is why child rearing's not exactly on my list of things to do. I just don't have the time. Or the patience." She shifts her half-empty mug back into her lap, idly swirling its contents around.

R'hyn mmms, over the edge of his mug, "Can't say that surprises me. And I-- well, I love Rhyena, but I'm really glad I'm not a woman. I think being a father is much easier than being a mother, even if I do want to be there for her." Setting it down again, he turns it so that the handle is facing a specific angle, then draws his hand back to his knee, spreading out the fingers upon it. "Annoying, to lose riders from formation for pregnancy. I used to find that. What colour does she ride?"

"Green. I think it's a flight baby, actually. But she chose to keep it, so." Cardixa watches the brown liquid swish around in her cup for a bit longer before asking casually, "You didn't want to have another baby, did you?"

"My sister was a flight baby," R'hyn muses. "Mother was desperate for children, I think, for all that she was not even sixteen - or something horrible like that. I find it strange." Slowly, he turns slightly, watching Cardixa carefully. "Not especially," he allows. "Mother wants more grandchildren, but I think Saera is more likely to please her on that count, than I."

"Hm," the Wingleader says by way of response, scrunching her face up introspectively as she contemplates the fire. "Some women are like that, I guess." If she has anything else to say about it, she doesn't.

R'hyn, with his nose wrinkled, peers into the dregs of his tea. "Makes them feel completed, or something. I don't think it really helped Mother, though. And you-- you're obviously more than happy without such a burden."

Cardixa gives the barest of confirming nods. "I have Viasseth." Which explains itself, really.

R'hyn's face positively brightens. "True. Who needs more, when--" he doesn't complete the statement, and stares, instead, into the fire contentedly.

Cardixa looks askance at him, almost-smiling with affable curiosity. "When what?"

"When we've got them, of course," says R'hyn, a little surprised that he has to explain it.

"--Right." She looks a little embarrassed, but lets it go with a long gulp of what's left of her klah.

R'hyn doesn't seem to notice; he's busy, playing with the edge of his mug, and staring deep into the fire. "Have you ever had to consciously abort an unwanted child?" he asks, after a pause. "Er, you don't need to answer that." Blushing, he glances at her - his turn to be embarrassed - "If you don't want to, and all."

Cardixa regards him oddly, her head cocked to one side. "Why wouldn't I answer that? It's an honest question." Reaching to set her mug down on the table, she says evenly, "I'm generally pretty good about staying on the teas the Healers prescribe for that kind of thing, but I've had to take one or two short trips Between, yes."

"Some people are strange that way," shrugs R'hyn, impassively. "It's a kind of personal question." He nods, listening, then wonders, as he lifts his hand to run through his hair - which is getting long; nearly time for it to be shaved off again. "That's another reason why I'm glad not to be a woman. Even knowing that it's not yet a baby, that it's not yet living properly-- ugh. I'm too sentimental, I guess."

Cardixa eyes the bronzerider. "R'hyn, you know I'm not 'some people'." She sighs, though, and runs one hand over her hair, cupping her palm and fingers over the neat bun at the nape of her neck. "It wasn't easy either time. The first time-- it was more difficult than I thought it would be, actually. I even thought about keeping it. The second time was easier." Her arms dangle limply at her sides. "I had to be realistic about it."

"I know," says R'hyn, eyes dropping slightly. "I'm just... used to being cautious. I forget, sometimes." He nods as he listens, lips pursed, expression slightly dulled. "I'm sorry," he says, honestly. "That doesn't sound fun. Er-- that's the wrong phrasing. But, you know what I mean."

Cardixa shrugs. "Nothing to be sorry about. That's the reality of my position--and I'm okay with that. But 'not fun' is apt, anyway."

"Yes, but..." R'hyn stops, and, finally, nods. "I suppose. I mean-- at least the tea works most of the time. And the benefits," he flushes, slightly, but smiles, "outweigh the chance of having to go through that, I think."

"Yeah, they do," she says, sighing again -- lightly, concurringly. "And honestly, I'm really not very interested in being a parent. I don't want to have to relinquish my position for it -- not even for a few months -- and I just... well, I'm just not interested." She angles her head back to stare blankly towards the ceiling. "But it's a little harder, in the moment." A beat, and she sits up straight again, to look at him. A wan smile appears on her mouth. "Sorry."

R'hyn spoils any response he was going to make with a sneeze, hastily procuring his handkerchief just in time to shield the world. Finally, he asks, "Sorry? Why?"

Cardixa blinks in surprise, but waits patiently for him to uncover his face. "Oh, I don't know," she says airily. "Depressing subject material. Don't want to bring you down when you're ill, and all. Don't particularly want to bring /myself/ down, either."

"I kind of pursued the subject," points out R'hyn, shaking his head. "So, you know, I guess it's okay. But-- yeah, maybe something more cheerful would be better." He puts his handkerchief away again, wiping his hands - somewhat guiltily - upon his pants.

The night grows late, midnight fast approaching on this autumn evening. The air is still and the skies are overcast, mildly humid with a loose promise of coming precipitation. The autumnal air still clings to the ends of summery humidity, but is cooler and fresher. (59F, 15C)

Cardixa nods decisively. "Yes. Cheerful." Shifting her butt around to get comfortable -- and eyeing her chair annoyedly in the process -- she says, "As tomorrow is a Restday, and I'm a little ahead on my paperwork, I was wondering how you'd feel about having some form of a picnic on a little beach I know-- provided it rains tonight and the weather holds out after that."

R'hyn's face lights - it's a sweet, warm expression, and he nods, with enthusiasm. "That sounds-- nice. Yes, I'd like that. I'll make sure and get loads of sleep, so I'm all better and can enjoy it properly."

Cardixa nods, but is quick to add, "We can always wait until you've recovered, if that's better..."

R'hyn gives a quick, decisive shake of his head. "No, I'd like to go tomorrow. You're always so busy - it's better if you're caught up and ahead, so you don't have to feel guilty about taking the time away. I'll be fine."

Cardixa squints one eye, but looks pleased underneath her otherwise skeptical expression. "You're sure."

"One hundred percent sure," R'hyn avers, looking Cardixa straight in the eyes.

Cardixa beams smugly despite herself. "Good. Okay. Yes." A time-affirming glance to the bowl results in a grimace. "It got late. We'd better get ourselves to bed."

R'hyn refrains from laughing, but amusement plays upon his face all the same. "Oh! I didn't notice," he admits, lamely. "We'd better, yes." He stands, picking up his own mug, and reaching for Cardixa's.

Cardixa pretends not to notice his mirth, but makes to grab the mug out of his hand. "I don't think so. /I'll/ put these away. You get upstairs. I'll meet you up there." She looks at him significantly. "We have to be sure we get up at the same time, you know. Have to get everything ready."

R'hyn lets the mug go without a fight, lifting both hands up in defeat. "Have it your way. I'll-- suffer through your company for the night, for the sake of readiness tomorrow. If I must!" His mock-put-upon tone is made even poorer than usual by his restrained laugh. "I'll see you soon, then," he agrees, nodding wisely.

Giving Cardixa her way is, of course, the fastest way to make her smug. So, naturally, she smirks more. "Yes, you must. And you will." For the sake of readiness, yes.

R'hyn rolls his eyes in amusement, and heads for the door, wiping his nose again as he does. "The things I do for you..." he mutters, loudly - and still with the laughter.

"--Don't forget the things you /will/ do!" she calls after him, smiling benignly at the various late nighters who turn to look at her. And then she makes for the kitchen.

And the blush, followed by the leaving. At least R'hyn is, in fact, grinning.

You head out through the narrow tunnel to emerge in the bowl.

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