Who

Sesa, Kanriel

What

After almost a Turn of radio silence following Sesa dragging her older brother off to the mindhealers following the death of Erikkhan, Sesa and Kanriel finally talk.

Strong Profanity, Angst, Grief, Mourning

When

It is the seventy-sixth day of Winter and 26 degrees.

Where

Central Bazaar, Crafter Quarters, Realilina & Kanriel's Quarters (Art Studio), Igen Weyr

OOC Date 23 May 2018 04:00

 

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Central Bazaar

All roads in the weyr ultimately lead here, to this center of commerce. Canvas awnings jut out over time worn, sandy cobblestone, sheltering customers and wares alike from the majority of Igen's elements, and funnel scents both mouthwatering and vomit inducing through the thin streets. Almost all store fronts are open air, delineated by sandstone arches with intricately carved facades. The insides of these stone-shingled buildings act as an amplifier for the salesmens' bawled enticements, and are held up by the chipped swirls of marble pillars.


Lunchtime! For most anyway, Sesa has hers on the go. She's moving through the bazaar, easy to spot because of her token weyrling uniform. Black pants in black boots, yellow tank under her yellow and black riding jacket. Her hair has been braided into two pigtail styled braids that keep her hair tight to her scalp. She's got a sandwich in one hand, eating it, her riding helmet tucked under her other arm and two empty rucksacks slung over her back. She needs to get the last of her things from the storage room in the crafter's quarters and take it up to her weyr and she only has now to do it. She has PT in a few hours and needs to get this done. She's done procrastinating about unpacking her weyr.

Kanriel isn't brooding as darkly today, which is something, at least. He's even out and art-ing, see? The teen has propped himself against a wall, armed with charcoals and a sketchpad, hazel eyes focused and intense on the going-ons of the Bazaar. The weyrling uniform spotted in the periphery of his vision causes his chin to jerk up from his drawing, temper flaring. She's coming right towards him. Options flicker through his mind. Ignoring her doesn't seem like an option, but he hasn't talked to his sister since he was freed from the cuckoo's nest. First he was furious, and honestly still is, but then it was just time and then, of course, Edleveth. It's awkward and uncomfortable and he doesn't know what he's about to do until he drops his sketchbook and vine charcoal and pushes himself from the wall, hastening the intercept course. Mama was right, of course. He'd have to talk to her eventually.

Sesa skids on the breaks, stopping just short of running into someone. She looks up, sandwich gone at least, ready to apologize and stops stunned. Kanriel. She gasps, heart hammering against her chest. "Hello big brother." She breathes, standing up straight and re-tucking her helmet beneath her arm. She rakes her gaze up and down his form, noting that he looks much better than the last time she'd seen him. She wants to ask how he's doing, and tell him he looks good, and hug him, Faranth she wants to hug him. But she can near feel the fury emanating from him. What to say to the brother who thinks she betrayed him, when all she was trying to do was help?

He didn't mean the intercept course to be that literal. Kanriel braces himself for a blow that's just barely avoided. "Hello, Sesa." He takes a deep, diaphragmatic breath, trying to release the tension held in his strong shoulders, and there's a long moment of silence, finally broken with, "The short hair is different." He's seen her around, of course, but this is the first time he's been this close. Realilina's voice plays in his mind, a voice of reason, urging him towards forgiveness. "Congratulations, by the way. Edleveth. I'm sorry I missed it." Because you locked me up, is the accusation left unspoken.

Sesa moves to tuck some of that hair behind her ear, forgetting it's braided and dropping her hand with a small blush when she does remember. She blanches a bit under Kan's congratulations, pride gleaming in her eyes while sheepishness plays about her features. She can feel the unspoken words, she'd uttered them to herself enough. "Thanks, Ed was a very interesting twist to life. I couldn't be happier with my choice to stand though." She rambles a little tiny bit, trying not to fall into silence. "You look good Kan." She says, her sisterly love for him and what she allows of her concern to show is on her face, softly urging Kan to understand.

Taking note of his clenched hands, the young man takes a moment to collect himself. "Thanks. I'm starting a ne… Mama's helping me put together a plan for a different Journeyman project." As much as he'd like to keep this light, because he is proud of her and does love her dearly, there's a lot hanging between them, and he's unable to continue the guise of a casual conversation. "You got your replacement brother to drag me off, Sesa. Literally. Literally dragged your fucking brother in front of the entire fucking Weyr to the nuthouse." His voice is taut and he's barely avoiding having a screaming match in the middle of the Bazaar. He takes a step back, taking his hurt, fear, and anger with him, away from his sister. His little sister, who had to carry his weight and hold his Mama's world together as everything spiraled out of control. He plants a hand on his face, breathing heavily, trying to get his body and mind under control. "Damn it, Sesa, I'm supposed to be the one who took care of you! I was supposed to be strong and you rubbed it in my face when I couldn't."

Sesa flinches, guilt writ all over her face. She hadn't liked hauling Kanriel off, but he'd become volatile and despondent and a danger to himself and those around him. She'd been afraid for his life and sanity and she wishes he could see that and it shows in the stubborn tilt of her head, despite the guilt. "No one could ever replace you as my big brother Kan, ever." That had hurt. She loves her brothers, and Kanriel most dearly of all. "But he is my brother by blood Kan. I can't just ignore him." She feels sympathy when Kan steps away and seems to be trying to control his temper, and she is about to reach out and call for him to wait when he speaks his last and while Sesa can certainly see how he feels that way, the insinuation that she rubbed his face in anything grinds her gears something fierce. "I did no such thing!" She exclaims in even, but emphatic tones, indignant, even. "All I was trying to do was get you some help big brother and if that is such a horrid crime than color me guilty. But I'd rather have you hate me to the ends of this earth than ever see you like that again. You weren't eating. You were violent and you were not grieving healthily and neither was Mama and I'll be damned if you expect me to apologize for holding everything up while both of you fell apart around the seams. I was fourteen fucking turns old Kan! Fourteen! I wasn't old enough to handle that shit!" And for the first time ever in Sesa's life, she completely loses her shit. So much for not having a screaming match in the bazaar.

He's really working hard on not just pulling out all the stops on Sesa and trying to hurt her, but the show of temper from his mild-mannered sister sets Kan completely off-balance. He reels for a moment, closing his eyes, half to collect himself and half to hide the tears threatening to fall. "Damn it, Sesa, don't you think I know that?! Know how much I hurt you? How much I fucked up Mama? I was supposed to care of you both! That's my job as the fucking man of the house," and the follow is sharp, staccato, and dripping with grief, "and I failed to protect you BOTH. No, I just hurt you over, and over, fuck, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I DIDN'T MEAN TO." A sob catches in his throat, and another step back is taken, and another, steps quickening until he's fleeing back towards the crafter's quarters and tucks himself to the side of his family's home, where his pride isn't threatened by the growing attention of what's turning out to be quite the scene. When Sesa inevitably follows, she will find the teen on the cusp of manhood collapsed against a wall, with his face buried in his knees and struggling to stop himself from sobbing in public. This is not how he imagined this going.

Sesa is pissed and where she would normally blanch as Kanriel screams back at her that he knows he blundered things and that he knows it was too much for Sesa and Lina and so on, today she stands, chin held high, cheeks flared red with temper, but before she can reply, Kanriel is storming off. She's about to storm off in the other direction, huffing about men and their pride, rolling her eyes, when she notes Kan sketch pad and charcoal on the ground. Damn it. She picks them up and follows the way her emotional brother had gone and when she does find him, she holds his sketch pad out to him, he charcoal pinned between her fingers and the pad.


Crafter Quarters

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Set high against the steep slope of the Weyr caldera, the Crafter Quarters lie subtly removed from the Bazaar below them. They bustle, but it is a slower bustle from the mercantile flurry: the scurry of Apprentices being sent on errands, the muffled shouts of irate Masters, the bursts of bangs and clicks and clacks as Crafters carry out their work. The familiar abode brick buildings of Igen line this little web of streets, some colorfully painted, some drab and dull. With the portioning of space first come and first serve, some Crafts have laid claim to multiple buildings, while others are forced to share space - sometimes in rather incongruous ways. Private rooms are the domain of Journeymen and Masters, while Apprentices must make do with cramped dormitories, when they are not reduced to claiming mere corners.


"Are you quite finished screaming at me now Kanriel? Do you feel better now that I know how you really feel?" Her tone is still lined with outrage and offense taken, with irritation at the display of male pride he'd just exhibited in the bazaar and just a tinge of tears held back, though the only other sign of those is a slight brightening to her eyes.

Male pride is really the only thing holding Kanriel together right now and he doesn't have enough in stock to rise to Sesa's bait. His anger, so consuming minutes earlier, has almost all evaporated, leaving him numb with the weight of failure. "No, I don't feel better. Just fuck off, Sesa. I know you're right, damn it," he mumbles to his knees, curling them closer to his body. He takes a steadying breath before raising his head, wiping away tears before they can be seen, "I know you're right and it hurts and I hurt you and you were in the fucking right and that hurts too." He accepts the charcoal wordlessly, spinning it in his fingers, eyes focusing on it. "Sesa, please just… please just sit, okay?" He doesn't look up again and waits for her to sit—or not. He's ready to talk. Really, really talk.

Sesa near growls with frustration, a rather undignified sound for a young lady to make, but she's at that point. "No, you fuck off Kanriel. If I was right, and in the right," And she is, "then you don't have a damn right to be mad at me because you're mad at yourself!" Even his next words are frustrating, even though her brother is only conveying his feelings. She's had enough at this point. It's been over a turn of silence and the first time they meet, he cuts her to the bone. Family fights. Gotta love 'em. Sesa hesitates about sitting, half tempted to just leave, and she'd be in her rights to do so, but, she can almost hear the willingness to talk in Kanriel's tone and her more pragmatic side takes over. "I'll stay Kanriel, but I'm not standing out here to continue airing our personal laundry out to the Weyr. Can we go inside?" She hasn't been home in awhile, it might be nice to see it.

"You know, you know, Sesa, if I could go back now, I'd do anything to have not put you in that position." But Kanriel wants to continue his thespian theatrics to wallow in melodrama on the GROUND of an ALLEY, sis!!! He doesn't reply to any of that just yet, just letting her words sink in. "I—Yeah, we can." So much for keeping the puppies a surprise, huh? A sigh is heaved and he snags the sketchbook from her, rising, trying to keep his breathy steady and rhythmic, something Mama Reali got REAL good at instructing her boys to do over the Turns. "Uh. Mama's been pulling stuff out of storage," he warns, "So just be, you know, prepared for that." He breezes by her, fixing his mask of masculine pride firmly back in place, and heads into where they all used to live. This time of day, said Mama is likely to be out of the house, and is. No arbiter here today, kids.


Art Studio

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The first thing to hit you when you step into this corner of the quarters is the smell. Despite the shuttered windows that are thrown open, temperature and Threadfall permitting, Turns of loving use have ingrained the unmistakable odors of a traditional artist's studio into every nook and cranny imaginable; noxious turpentine, raw linseed oil, acrid paint fumes, canvas newly-sized with rabbit-skin glue over fresh pine splints, ashy charcoal dust, greasy lanolin, and chalky gesso create a sensory cacophony to the uninitiated.
White-washed stone walls and ceiling, replete with copious sources of glow light, create the feeling of spaciousness. Deep shelves and cubbies carved into the left wall, typically locked behind a series of hinged doors, are stocked with a vast array of art supplies and a veritable horde of vibrant pigments and inks, porcine-bristle brushes, fibrous paper with rough edges, prepared canvases, and pungent containers of Faranth-only-knows-what are tightly but neatly packed into the compartments. Several bare wooden frames, some crafted with effortless mastery and others telling of a less seasoned but equally able hand, rest against the only blank part of the wall.
Along the right wall are a few easels (two of which are occupied by covered works in progress), a small shelf with a basin of clean water and rack housing drying brushes, and a drafting table styled as a desk. The table is currently populated with a variety of charcoals—powdered, compressed, willow, and vine—and littered with requisite paraphernalia: tortillons, black-dusted bread, and a dirtied piece of gauze seem to be the tools du jour.
The back wall has been splattered with a tumultuous variety of colors, covering the two doors set into it. The corner of the wall is signed by Harpers Realilina and Kanriel, dated for the fifth day of the first month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass. Between the doors, there's a drying stand for artwork completed by the particularly trusted and talented artists who have access to the studio.


Sesa sighs. "I noticed, I've been moving my stuff out of there too and I noted a few things were gone." She follows him inside the studio and she's doing a mental countdown, trying to check her anger and her near need to flee because she is not sure she's in control of herself emotionally at this point. She'll close the door to the studio quietly before turning on Kanriel and crossing her arms under her breasts. And as she's about to ask Kan something she notices the wall across, the vibrant and bold coloring. "What happened there?"

"I told you Mama's been different lately," Kanriel declares matter-of-factly, glad for the momentary reprieve of emotional heaviness to talk about their newly decorated tumultuous wall of colors. "For my Turnday," …you know, the one a sevenday and change ago, no note, no card, from his sister… "she pulled out all these paints and let me fling it at the wall. She pulled out a bottle of Benden and coated us both in paint. Who is she and what has she done with our mother, right? We… we got Zingari curry afterwards." He doesn't have to clarify on what that means to him, the ritual of father and son. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck to try and get some of the tension to release. "We were, uhm, going to do something. For their Anniversary." Their parent's anniversary; their father's deathday. "Mama made me promise to talk to you before then, so," he waves a hand. Here there are, talking. "Look, Sesa, I'm still pissed off. I'm not saying it's fair to you or right, and it doesn't change the fact that you made a really fucking hard choice. I get it. I… I wasn't safe. I wasn't safe for you or mama or myself. You…" Swallowing his pride, he affirms, "You did right, Sesa. No matter how mad I've been or how much it hurt, you did what you had to do, and I'm a fucking ass for being so pissed off about it."

Sesa raises a brow. Yeah. He most certainly had said so. She blushes when her brother brings up his turnday. SHIT! She's missed it. But being a weyrling, her time is filled near always, and, there's barely time to think. "I'm sorry Kan, Happy belated turnday, I can't believe I forgot…" For a moment, she's not angry anymore, shocked that she'd forgotten, particularly with her penchant for remembering facts and dates. She had wanted to Specialize in record keeping, after all. Sesa is about to ask if their mother had been drunk already when this project started, because she cannot remember her mother ever being OK with this sort of thing. Even Dad had received the stink eye when she caught him painting on the walls, even though she always loved what he did. But she doesn't ask, because Kanriel mentions their after painting activities and she has to think hard to keep her jaw from dropping in shock. Then, just as swiftly, and just as hard to control, is the ache in her chest when Kanriel rubs the back of his neck before going on. Their father had done that, when bringing up the hard things. It's even harder still to control her tears when he brings up their parent's anniversary. She's come to terms with her father's death, but it still hurts. As for their mother making Kan promise to talk to Sesa, well, that sounded more like her than this paint escapade. Then Kan comes full circle and finally gets to the heart of the matter. Again, she has to stop her jaw from dropping. She'd given up on hearing any semblance of an apology or affirmation of right doing from him. And now, here he is doing it. She affects an air of haughty temper that's closer to truth than acting. "You're damn right you are!" She says, completely agreeing that Kanriel is an ass for his behavior. "But thank you for acknowledging finally that I was doing my best. I was doing all I could do at that point. I regret that it had to go down the way it did, but you didn't make it easy. But I love you, because you're my brother and I want you to be OK. I appreciate you owning your shit, but I'm fucking pissed off too. Just so you know." She sighs. "I forgive you, though, for being an ass."

His sister forgetting a date gets a quirked brow but he waves it off; at very least, it's consoling to know she'd just forgotten and not deliberately avoided recognizing it. As for the rest of it, damn right, he's apologizing. And it's stuff he's known, too, he's just been… not able to bring it up. Too angry, too hurt, hell, still too lost in grief. The separation between them had hurt him, too, deeply. Not only had he lost his sister, but he'd also lost one of his dearest friends, closest allies, and closest confidants. "Honestly, I'm glad you're mad," he admits after a long brooding, silence. "You have every right to be. I'm still mad, too, and while I know you're right, I'm still working on forgiveness. But you did what was right, okay? I'm sorry I can't just man the hell up and deal with it, but I'm working on it. I'm working on a lot of things right now. Dad…" There's another break in the conversation as he gathers himself to continue. "I'm trying to do the best I can, for Dad." He holds open his arms, having previously thrown down his art supplies. "I love you, too, Sesa, and I'm so shardin' proud of you and how strong you were and how strong you are. My little sister is a dragonrider." A moment of hesitation and he sweeps forward, wrapping her in a tight hug, "Faranth, Sesa, I've missed you. So, so much."

It's been a long time coming, this talk, and Sesa is honestly more full of relief than she is anything else. She'd been so sick of the fighting. There's a brief moment of silence from both of them when Kanriel brings up their dad. Even two turns later its a bit raw to think about. There's thick emotion when Kanriel apologizes again and expresses his pride in Sesa. It's a bit of salve to a raw and gaping wound. She's missed her big brother. Her bond with En'rys is growing stronger, and they've had some moments. But Kanriel was the one that she grew up with and his absence had left a deep wound because he too, is her best friend and confidant. The tight hug from Kanriel sees Sesa wrapping her arms around her brother near desperately, hugging him close and burying her face in his chest to hide the tears welling in her eyes. "I missed you too Kanriel."

It's like a massive weight has lifted from the young man, vestiges of anger fleeing and last of the tension melting from his body when his sister accepts the touch. Until it happens, he doesn't quite realize just how much of the rage he'd been holding onto was stemming from deeply seated pain and fear. He'd been so scared that he'd lost her… so sharding scared that he hadn't been able to think straight, had just buried everything in an unassailable layer of rage so it didn't, couldn't hurt so much. Kanriel tightens his grip with the anxiety of someone terrified of having taken what peace has been found taken away. A brotherly kiss is placed on the top of the slight woman's head before resting his cheek on it. "Never again, Sesa," he vows with quiet solemnity, unable to stop his voice from cracking with emotion, "I'll never hurt you like that again." It's been a long Turn for the both of them.

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