====December 24. 2013
====Cerise, E'sren
====E'sren seeks Cerise out to share a few words, and lend a shoulder.

Who Cerise, E'sren
What E'sren seeks Cerise out to share a few words, and lend a shoulder.
When There are 0 turns, 4 months and 21 days until the 12th pass.
Where Ground Weyrs, Southern Weyr

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Ground Weyrs
Neatly ordered are a series of ground-weyrs, each generic and functional rather than ornate. The caverns are unevenly staggered in a variety of sizes: some so small as to be a snug fit for the smallest of nowtimer greens, while others are roomy enough to fit two oldtimer queens. Each ground-weyr is fitted with a reed-strewn couch and a cozy nook with a bed and clothespress.


Southern's winter is not terrible, but there are things about this one that have been. Most notable of course being the unexpected Fall, which has left so many of the Weyr either in bandages or a state of mind that needs an entirely different type of healing. Some, though, went through it and came out the other side unscathed… physically. E'sren is one of those, Ahruth flew fast and got away with some light scorching from hot ash and nothing worse, and his rider has seemed well enough since. Now he stands outside in the bowl, talking to one of the elder riders in his wing; after a few more moments of that they say goodbye and the bluerider turns with a wave to head towards if not into the infirmary.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Cerise hasn't been seen outside of the dragon infirmary for days, now. Rumor has it that Jiamoth recovers well from the necessary amputation of wrist and paw; youth is serving her in good stead in that regard, she bounces back quickly now that the infection has been removed from her body. Even so, the green's partner has been reluctant to leave her side unless forced to- made to bathe, made to eat and, in this instance, made to step outside to take a breath of fresh air while Jia slumbers. She still wears a weyrling uniform but the trials of the past sevenday show in the way the uniform hangs on what used to be a healthy frame. Her eyes are like coals dropped into a snowbank, and quickly shielded by a hand thrown up to her brow when she steps outside. That wince is unfeigned; light hurts us, my precious. But she's game to try this meandering in fresh air thing and so, temporarily blinded, the young woman wanders on a course that will lead her colliding with E'sren unless the bluerider takes evasive action.

Having the benefit of already having been in the sun for some time, E'sren isn't blinded or distracted enough to run into Cerise, but neither does he veer away from her to continue on. Rather once he sees her he straightens a little, recognition setting in, and veers for her. And if the sun is too bright for her, when he realizes that's why she's shielding herself, he'll try to help once he's gotten near by checking behind him for where the light is coming from and then sidestepping until hopefully his shoulder or maybe even his head block it. "Hi. Cerise?"

Hello, tall(ish), trim and shadowy. Cerise comes to a stop so abrupt it leaves her rocking forward on her toes, that uncoordinated sway coupled with a blinking that hints at lack of sleep. This time dazzled by the abrupt loss of light, she tilts her head to squint up at the bluerider and takes several seconds before clicking into a practiced half-smile. "Aye, that'd be me. Can't say I know the voice all that well and your face is naught but black and…" But there her attempt at levity fails, conjuring something nightmarish instead of light-hearted. She clears her throat instead and changes tacts. "Thank you for the sun shield, rider. Do I know you?"

"I know, black and mysterious. Charming, even." E'sren comes in with a quick save while she recovers, not at all concerned about where that could have gone in her head or at least playing it off quite well. "Sorry, I guess… yeah. No. You don't know me. I mean you might. I'm E'sren," is added quickly and almost in frustration, just get it out already! His brow furrows though she can't see and he reaches out for her shoulders. "Here." And to turn her if he can in a slow orbit, guided carefully, so he can put her in his place with her back to the sun, even if it means he's the one left squinting. "I was coming to check in on you, actually. And the others. But mostly you. I heard about everything. I'm sorry."

"E'sren." Think, think, think, Cerise, and perhaps you'll- ah yes. "I know you. Ahruth, aye? Jiamoth pointed him out to be. I always liked his name, it sounds like a sigh." For that unguarded observation, he'll have exhaustion to thank. But a second go at her smile has more success, bolstered by gratitude for the maneuver that sees her face turned out of the sun. Why didn't she think of that. So simple. After, she's left to conduct a study of his now-squinting features to tie face to name, though whether it's how he looks that sobers her up, or what he goes on to say…all right, so it's what he has to say. It's a quickly developed habit to raise a hand, to wave off the matter of sorry, but she doesn't leave it at that. "Were you? Why is that?" she asks, with what would seem to be genuine confusion. "Mostly me and we're hardly acquainted? Have you been pining from afar?" A month ago that would have been a jest made with saucy relish; here it's stark, form followed without the function.

"Ahruth, yeah. I'll let him know you like it. I think he picked it out himself." To E'sren, it seems logical enough. It doesn't seem like he thinks anything odd of her candor, so it must not be too strange. His turn to lift his hand to block the light, without complaint of course, so he can look down at her confused face and make one himself. "What no." No. So quick. "I meant… mostly you. What happened, with Jiamoth, and everything. And you're both so young." And he's obviously ancient. "I wanted to come see everyone in there, but… mostly you." Because of what happened. It's a circle. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about any of this before I decided to do it." An apology added on once he's realized how this all sounds.

Something other than befuddlement is emerging in Cerise's expression. It involves scrunched eyebrows, lines appearing on her forehead, a glint of something that could be amusement in hazel eyes. Amusement…or skepticism. Was it the quick denial? Or…? "Young." Oh. That. "I dunno that's something we can be accused of, anymore." But, with a sharply drawn breath, she takes pity on the poor bluerider and consciously softens the harsh edges that have shaped her features. "That's kind of you. Stopping by to check in on us. She's sleeping. We were up most the night, it's…like it's still there. Paining her, aye? Even though it's gone." She flops her hand in demonstration, looking thoughtfully down at the appendage as it flaps limp on her wrist. "Helps some when they give me the fellis but since it's likely to be so long, coming back from this, those're spaced out. The doses. C'mon, E'sren. You can walk me 'round the Bowl so I can earn my next draft."

"I guess you're right." Which is a part of E'sren's feelings about all of this, really. The weyrlings really aren't kids anymore, not after the Fall, not really even after Impression. Still, he's here, even if he is looking more and more unsure of all of this by the minute. The limp-wristed demonstration has its effect, his eyes staring fixed, though not bugging, at the greenrider's hand. It's a half-lidded stare, one that suggests he understands the gravity of what happened oh so much. "Phantom pain," he says, to fill that pause. Her invitation, or suggestion, or whatever it is, is met with a fresh glance, he meets her eyes, nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, of course." Which is hard to say because in doing so he's also agreeing to her 'earning her next draft', which isn't all that cheery. And with that he slowly spins on his heel to aim in one direction, to take those first few steps with her. "So, uh. Where are you from?" That is almost harder to say.

"Aye, that's what they called it. Like it's haunting her. Guess there's ghosts to be had here after all." Social interaction is its own lubricant; the more Cerise says, the easier it becomes to manage this whole concept of conversation. Of course, she's becoming no better at gauging E'sren's reactions to her comments, instincts somewhat tarnished at the moment. It's so much easier to just focus on putting on foot in front of the other, shuffling along at his side and lifting her face into the humid breeze that cycles through the area. "See, I knew you'd been pining," she says, by way of throwaway observation. "I'm of the Oldtime, my family a band of traveling players. We stayed nowhere long enough to claim it as our own." Though the rich brogue she's not bothering to disguise marks her origin closer to the backwoods of Bitra than anywhere else on the Northern Continent. "We roamed wherever the marks were, so long as the folk holding them were dumb enough to take from. You?"

"Yeah. That's what it's like. Or so I've heard." If talking is good for her, E'sren will oblige, even when the topic is of ghosts in the machine, as it were. Further comment on his pining earns her a grin that makes his eyes crinkle. Yeah, yeah. "Okay you got me." Hearing she's an Oldtimer is something of a surprise, says his lifted eyebrows, but he doesn't verbalize any judgements, bad or otherwise. What he does comment on is the type of work she and her family did. "Hey we have something in common." Surprise! "I mean other than dragons. I'm from traders. I mean maybe not exactly the same. But yeah. We're from over near High Reaches. I came here not too long ago. Did you come here just for Search, or."

"Oh aye?" Cerise glances sidelong at the man, only to do a partial double-take at seeing the effect his grin has on his face. There are some folk who have fascinating faces when they smile so deeply. E'sren, it seems, is one of them- and she doesn't hesitate to say so. "You look like a different person entire when you make that face," she observes, before shifting seamlessly into a head bobbed to acknowledge shared career paths. "Came when the call went out and they spoke of a place meant to be different from others, in the time. My brother and I. We came to perform for the folk working so hard here, and stayed for the dragons, aye. Might've moved on otherwise. Might've…" But there the greenling trails off; it isn't a line of thought worth pursuing, given the current circumstance. Instead she clears her throat to mark a shift in topic. "Think another brother of mine settled up High Reaches way. All those Turns ago. What was your trade, rider?"

That observation has him looking over at her now instead, and the smile that comes might not be as face-changing but nevertheless it's warm and a little surprised. "Thank you? I think. I hope that person's still an okay guy too." There's a pause before he says the next, "I think the way things happened… I think a lot of us are looking like different people." Tired people. Stressed out people. More about her is more pleasant, even if she does have her own pauses when certain sentences might lead down different paths of thought than might be good. "Might've been different. I get it. Oh, uh, we didn't trade in anything particular, just whatever we picked up along the way. We make our own things, my brother learned leather working stuff from our dad, and we pick stuff up from smaller holds along the way, so we're kind of a third party dealer for them too. Anyway it's boring. I left a while ago."

"Aye, that does sound boring." Oops, she must've left her diplomacy gene back in the infirmary. But Cerise is nodding along- it's a business model she has more than passing familiarity with. Then it's silence again, regard lowering to the earth just before her shuffling feet. Hopefully E'sren is as comfortable with quiet as he is with a greenrider whose usually finely tuned instincts are a little…off. For a time, the scuff of booted feet against stone that could use a sweep marks her only contribution to the conversation. Eventually, however, her mind winds back around to something he'd said. Something about… "Folks have come up different, haven't they? Y'know, I said I'd Stand thinking it'd be harder for them to get rid of us, with dragons at our backs. Didn't give two thoughts to Thread. Knew it was coming. Didn't know, for all that they remind us every day in training. Why'd you leave boring and safe, E'sren?"

E'sren's used to that at this point, to potentially unguarded opinions and not-thought-through thoughts. It's the way people have been, as if Thread falling told them that at any second they could all be gone and there's no time for fully formed sentences, for thinking before you leap. Hers is taken with a grain of salt, he just grins and shrugs, looks down at his shoes and that bowl floor they're treading. Silence is fine by him since he doesn't seem all that keen to break it, content with just the company and the sounds of their walk and of the Weyr around them and beyond. When she does speak again he looks over at her, confused at first about her meaning. But it comes together in the end. "Uuuuuh." It's a thoughtful sound mostly, leading up to a topic that he might not be totally excited about. "I got kicked out. Yeah. Ma didn't want me taking over, she didn't think I was gonna be able to handle it. So she told me to go when they came to the Hold we were at for Search and I went. Found Ahruth."

That's an answer she hadn't expected and it's enough to rattle Cerise free of the cloud she's been strolling in. It starts with a snort, and that knocks her brain back into focus, long enough for the young woman to laugh. Or…bark? It's been awhile since her voice was aimed at that purpose, the sound has flakes of rust adhered to it. "And folk wonder why I'm not inclined to the Ma business. Mine wasn't much better. Ahruth's gain, aye?" For a step or two it seems she might sink into that foggy place again but before drifting away entirely, she fixes a hard eye upon the bluerider. "Mind all his parts up there, aye? Even when it's going so fast you think you're six wingbeats ahead of all that could come at you. Don't let him get tangled in thinking you've got it."

"I like to think so." Ahruth's gain, all that. "But she meant well. Ma, I mean. She has to look out for the family. And I wasn't exactly in the best headspace. So." With another shrug he dismisses what might sound like harsh mothering. "Besides, whoever raised us, we came out okay." The both of them. He even nudges her gently with his elbow to help lighten the subject matter, even if they do go into more of the same hard territory as before. Still, he's willing to go, meeting her hard eye with an understanding nod. "I'll be careful. He'll be careful." And for a second that might have been all, but, "He's fast. I always knew he was, when we flew for fun, when he'd do insane things in the sky and I'd come back down thinking I was gonna throw up. But up there… He just kept telling me he had it."

The nudge earns him a grab, Cerise's hand looking to close on the offending elbow to hold him fast. She's come to a stop again to better peer up into that expressive face. "That's what Jia's said, aye, he's fast. He's the bright one? Maybe it's best he's so sure. I let her listen to me and look where it's got us." Certainly not okay, as he opined, by any stretch of the imagination. But she comes to realize that getting all grabbyhands with a near stranger is not the way to express herself and lets her hand drop back to her side. The smile offered next is likely the stiffest she's ever shaped to be offered to another person. "They shouldn't let me out without a chaperon, aye? Listen to me going on," the weyrling says, dropping a shoulder and letting it dip her into forward motion once more. "You'll have better places to be than this. Drills and meals and drinks. I should be back to her, she'll be waking soon."

And the grab earns her his full attention; he stops for sure, but also turns so she doesn't have to have his profile. "Yeah. Hard to miss 'im." But this isn't about that, how bright Ahruth is or how fast. When it seems like she might have them carry on, and since she's let go of him, he reaches over to take her by the shoulder. His expressive face is concerned, lines showing on his forehead and a heavy quality to his dark eyes. He stops her, keeping her just there so he can talk to her like this. "Cerise. You can't think like that. Any of that. First off, what happened can't be your fault. Nobody deserves that. You have to promise me you won't think like that. And second, you can talk to me. Okay? Go back to her now, but if you need to talk to someone, I'll listen. No sugar coating. No bullshit. Okay?"

"Oh, aye?" Is it the second or the third time she's said that? Certainly the first in which Cerise uses that tone of voice, the one that's sharp-edged and just shy of scathing. But the hand she drops over his, to pat pat pat at enclosing fingers, is surprisingly gentle in contrast. "It's kind of you to think so but who're you to ask promises of me? Get your love near to broken and see how you feel, mm?" The generosity of the subsequent offer does gain a brief hesitation, a pause between the time when she gathers herself to venture off and the moment when she actually does go. It's filled a sidelong study of the bluerider, an intense analysis of the look he wears. In the end, she opts to nod to him- simple acceptance, perhaps- before executing the turn that'll carry her out from under his hand and back to the infirmary.

Her response isn't unexpected, but only because he couldn't have any idea of how she would respond. How could he? The situation itself is volatile. But even if those wrinkles do deepen and his eyes do narrow, he doesn't remove his hand. She does, but if she hadn't it can be assumed that contact would still be there. Now useless, his hand drops to his side and he gives her that sort of sad look all while she closes up on him. Even if she is right, who is he to make that demand? As she walks away he stands there, still unwilling to give up, and calls out after her. "I mean it, Cerise. All of it." And since she's heading back to her temporary home he turns slowly to go wherever it is he goes when he isn't doing that.

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