Who

G'deon, Hannah

What

Friends share a picnic on the beach and discuss the past, present, future, and all life's little lessons to be learned… and taught.

When

It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

It is the twenty-fifth day of Spring and 70 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


It is a gorgeous spring day, with Rukbat's butter-yellow light painting the weyr's beach in warmth as the gentle breezes tease the hair and tickle the skin. Warm enough to not be cold, but cool enough to be pleasant, this is a day that sees the majority of the weyr's residents spilling out of the weyr proper into the jungles and beaches for enjoyment. Hannah is no different, minus the need to have had help to get out to the beach. Heavily pregnant, she is not in the water but rather has sought a soft blanket to sit (awkwardly) on and a small picnic lunch sits off to the side. Pale hair hangs free, and her attire is entirely comfort driven: soft, blue fabric that forms an empire-waisted dress. Barefoot, she's got her toes buried in the sands. Along the curve of the beach, angled towards the cove, Dhiammarath's pale hide glitters in Rukbat's fair light, showing the shimmer of metallic iridescence here and there. The queen's eyes are closed, so she could be sleeping. Though the occasional twitch of honey-tipped tail would tell a different story. The picnic remains untouched; maybe Hannah is waiting on someone.

Gliding above, Nylanth is as much as a shadow against the clear blue sky as the one he casts on the beach as he glides overhead. Landing in the shallows, wide wings allowing far less splash than his bulk and age might have indicated, he is currently free of both rider and straps, and so settles into the gentle waves while greeting the various dragons nearby. Intent only on cooling off, however, he does not remain in the water for long, and reaches the shore just as G'deon appears from the direction of the Weyr. His greeting to Hannah is as quiet as Nyls' was to Dhiammarath, offering a small nod and a beaming sort of smile. He proffers his own picnic contribution in the form of a glass pitcher, beaded with condensation. "Iced tea?" he asks, laying a couple glasses on the blanket before carefully lowering himself and the pitcher to the blanket.

Sleepy content can be heard in the gold's soft rumble to the bronze-of-old, the gentle lift and fall of her wings a secondary greeting that encourages him to stay close but outside her sunlight. "G'deon," Hannah's smile is wide and warm, emerald green eyes sparkling with pleasure. "You read my mind, I would love some." She reaches for the basket, saying, "I've got a variety of things here — and I promise, nothing fishy — to tease the taste buds. Most of them healthy, but there are some desserts." Flipping the lid open, she pauses and gives G'deon a quiet look. "Thank you," she starts to say while laying out various wrapped containers of food, "for getting Valenia here. She's been a help. I feel better and think I've made a lot of progress." Turning to the older bronzerider, she offers a plate of juicy slices of redfruit, "Trade ya a redfruit for a glass of tea!"

G'deon fills the first glass and holds it out toward Hannah while Nylanth dutifully settles in the sand where his shadow won't touch Dhiammarath. Gid gives the weyrwoman a quick look at mention of the Healer, but picking up the genuine tone, he follows it with a relaxed smile. "That is very good to hear," he replies, his low rumble full of just as much sincerity. After filling the second glass, he settles the pitcher in the sand so it won't tip, then covers it with a heavy linen napkin to shade it from the spring sunshine. That done, he gladly takes the offered fruit and settles into a relaxed posture. "And how is the other item of business developing?" he asks after a nipple of the fruit slice before indicating Hannah's belly as his blue eyes twinkle.

"At first," Hannah states with a small smile, taking the glass gratefully, "I was hesitant, but she really helped. And I'm learning to find quiet times for me and think about things here. And not so much the way it was before or who I left behind more. I focused too much on what I thought my purpose was and not enough time on life." She drops on hand to her belly and laughs. "Too slowly. I'm ready for her to be out of me," she admits, tilting a grin towards G'deon. "Pregnancy is not quite what the stories make of it. I expected a little more glow and a lot less bloated feet and aches." Despite her words, happiness is clearly written upon her features and in the color that suffuses cheeks. "We want to be involved with her as much as we can, being in a Pass. I was going to ask…" Hannah fidgets a little, nibbling her bottom lip. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you would help be an influence in his or her life." Godparent isn't exactly a word on Pern, probably, but the concept is likely there. "It takes a community to raise a baby in a weyr, but I'd rather that community be someone I trust and know."

"Sounds like excellent advice," G'deon replies with a gentle smile before he finishes his slice of redfruit and takes a sip of tea. He grins in reply to the slow pregnancy, then squints out at the water for a moment where mix of people are enjoying the waves. "Soon enough you'll have a squalling child keeping you up at all hours of the day," he promises before giving Hannah a quick wink. "That part of the story will be true, mark my words." He shifts slightly on the blanket, trying to find a more comfortable posture for his aging body. "There is a glow," he adds a moment later, glancing at her again. "Sadly, I think it's easier for us to see. I do hope he's treating you to foot rubs and all those other thanks for carrying his child." At Hannah's fidgeting question, G'deon studies her for a steady couple seconds, then goes right back to beaming. "I think even if you hadn't asked, I would have tried, Hannah. But I would be honored. I will be there as much as life, age and Thread allow."

"She's," Hannah's convinced here, "keeping me up at all hours with all the movement she's doing. It could be any day now, they tell me. She's already dropped." Her gaze drifts from G'deon to the beach and water and the people playing. A soft smile curves her lips before she turns back to the bronzerider and dips her head. "Thank you. And yes, he's taking good care of me. He's the one that brought me out here." She laughs, "Something about not wanting me to walk all the way. I'll beg you to let me hang onto your arm on the way back, though." Since Th'seus is, of course, in his duties by now. "Oh G'deon," the gloss and sheen of her eyes is entirely due to the overflow of emotion that comes with G'deon's affirmation, fingers curling tighter around the glass. "Thank you. It means so much to me." And then it's her turn to shift uncomfortably on the blanket. "I hope I have this baby before Khalyssrielth goes up." But that thought is shoved away, as the goldrider turns to G'deon. "Now, tell me how you're doing. Are you," a collective, dragonhealer-you, "able to handle things? Do we need more dragonhealers?" Someone is hungry for news.

G'deon's look at mention of Khalyssrielth can only be described as cheeky. He does not, at least, add any teasing words to the look. Instead, he sips his tea and leans to the side on a balled fist. "There can always be more dragonhealers," he answers, "though we seem to be handling things so far. Many riders have taken some extra training, too, so in a pinch, we can have a few more helping hands. Some of the latest weyrlings might be interested, and Nylanth and I are always happy to take on new mentees."

Hannah's half-smile is part humor and part worry as her eyes slip to Dhiammarath and a hand comes to rest on her middle. Brows knit briefly but she's quick to turn a smile back to G'deon, and sips her tea. "Let us just hope that everything aligns safely," is her idle comment before reaching for more fruit. The picnic consists of fruit salads, cold cuts and cheese, and some delicious pastries as well as bread and other, healthy options. Setting her glass carefully aside, she builds a little cracker sandwich. "I hope some of the weyrlings will be, but I'm glad we're able to handle it. At least for now." Q'fex and Tuli's predicament casts a shadow over her features, but the day is too pretty by half to linger too long on the concern. "How's Nylanth? He looks as fit as ever."

G'deon looks toward Nylanth, who has that half-dozing look so many dragons assume when lounging in the sun. While his amiable chatting has dropped off, the mindlink would reveal he is still awake, just quiet. "He's doing better than his rider," Gid answers easily, smiling over at Hannah as he shrugs. "Though I must admit, Southern has done much to rejuvenate us both after our jump forward. Old bodies just do not bounce back like they used to," he admits in a lower voice, eyes twinkling with muted amusement. "I think Nyls has gotten bored with my grounded duties, though. I might see about joining one of the lower wings during Threadfalls. Catmint admittedly only allows us to stretch our wings so far."

Dhiammarath's gentle responses to Nylanth's chattiness does much to inspire a zen-like tranquility that brings a peacefulness to the beach. She is, and always will be, a lady. "He looks fine enough to chase one of us," Hannah lightly teases G'deon, plucking up a grape. "I think you should join us during Threadfall if you're able. Dragons need that feeling of fighting the Enemy, I've found. It's hard to not be up there when I'm on the sands or Faranth, even now when I can't even ride my own dragon very well. It's an innate purpose…" Trailing off, she laughs lightly and shrugs, "Listen to me going on about what I think. You've more experience in your pinky than I've got my whole life." Chewing at the corner of her mouth and slowly reaching for the tea, she hesitates and states slowly, "It's strange here. How they view us. Never in my life did I ever think of myself or Dhiammarath as just a broodmare until I was faced with this era of Pern."

"It's no use comparing our experiences, Hannah," G'deon replies, and while a faint curve of grin is still evident, his tone becomes a little more serious. "It's what we do with what we have, and with what we can learn from others. And as for that," he adds, tone dropping as he looks away. "Well. I suppose the same goes for the people of this time. I'm sure there are still things I could learn from them, but at this stage of my life, I'm happy to live another day with Nylanth and go about our lives. They can try as they might to convince me their way is right, but…" He glances to Hannah again and winks. "I'm not holding my breath. I've seen the likes of your Dhiammarath and Ysbryth and Quarith fight Thread with more ferocity than any puny bronze this time has to offer. They'll need to come up with some spectacular evidence to combat that."

"I know. A lot of them are so quick to remind how unimportant we are," Hannah says slowly, dropping her eyes to her lap. "I don't know what these people could teach you G'deon," the goldrider answers truthfully with a crooked smile. "You've lived two different lifetimes and have already come forward again to see Thread for a second time. Not many can say that." She leans over and makes another little cracker sandwich. "Ysbryth, Quarith… They were magnificent. In my mind's eye, I can still see them. They would crush these bronzeriders were they here." A poignant love shines in her eyes before it's taken over by a wince that causes her to shift her position once more. She stretches out one leg, and offers her tea in toast. "To our time."

"And their riders would leave nothing left," G'deon replies as he refills his own glass, then holds it toward Hannah. "To our time," he echoes, then drops his voice to a teasing rumble, "and to continuing to teach them a thing or two." Glasses clink, and he takes a long sip. After some reminiscing and recalling those few from their time who are also living in a second Pass, conversation turns to the very here and now, with questions and comments both whimsical and serious as they discuss Th'seus and Hannah's upcoming progeny and all those little plans that come along with the little sprog.

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