Post by Slim on Oct 13, 2008 14:46:16 GMT -8
The party whirled frenetically around him, and all Soralyn could do was try his best to keep up. When Faronel, now F’nel, brought him beers, he drank them. When old C’shon dragged him over to a pretty girl, he danced with her. But boy, it moved fast.
At the end of the song, he snuck to a bench near the back of the room and collapsed. He didn’t mind that he’d been left Standing, and hoped his friends would understand that. It wasn’t sour grapes that drove him to retreat, just... exhaustion. Things didn’t move this fast back home, nowhere near it.
He hadn’t been resting there for long when he heard footsteps approaching him. K’miel, most likely, come to carry through his challenge for a chugging contest. Soralyn braced himself for a headache and looked up.
It wasn’t K’miel at all. It was a kitchen girl come to collect abandoned trays from the back tables. Their eyes met for a moment and they both blinked, then the girl looked away. Soralyn smiled. Seemed like a nice girl. It was good to know they still had those in the Weyr.
“There you are!” A voice broke in. “Thought you could get away from old K’miel, eh? Well, K’miel’s more clever than that. Come, I’ve got the crowd together! We’ll see who chokes this time, hah!”
Two turns later.
S’lyn’s head was still spinning. Chadath! He couldn’t believe it. He especially couldn’t believe it when he realized Chadath was a bronze, a fact the dragonet’s glimmer-less hide had obscured in the first moments of Impression. He wondered if his aunt, who had retired to bed as soon as the Hatching was over, had figured it out before she left. She’d be in for a surprise tomorrow if she hadn’t.
He sat in the back of the room, surveying the dance floor with a big smile. Chadath! It didn’t matter any more that the other weyrlings didn’t like him, that he’d spent the last few months getting picked on for his short size and stilted Harper diction. Only Chadath mattered, and Chadath had chosen him.
Glancing at the nearest banquet table, he felt a quick twinge of interest. Well, why not treat himself to dessert? He was celebrating, after all. S’lyn pushed off his seat and strode over to the table, shoulders back and head high. But as he nudged in next to a plump girl who’d piled her plate high with rich food, his elbow bumped into her arm. A little cake tumbled from its perch.
“I’m very sorry. Let me get another one for you, here.” As he tipped a brand new cake gently off his fork, S’lyn glanced up at the girl with his best gentlemanly smile.
Her eyes met his. A blush sprang to her cheeks. Then they both blinked, and it was over.
“Thank you,” she said, and walked away.
Two hours later.
The party was winding down, but S’lyn was growing anxious. By now, he had stopped lying to himself about his intentions. He wasn’t stretching his legs. He wasn’t scanning for food. He was looking for the girl.
To have let her get away, when she had been so close, was... galling. And now the room was emptying out, but still he saw no sign of her. She must have gone to bed. He should have gone to bed also. His restless thoughts were disturbing Chadath’s slumber.
He rolled his shoulders back against the wall, flattening himself against it with a sigh. He really shouldn’t dwell. Whoever the girl was, she likely hadn’t noticed him at all. S’lyn wished – suddenly, foolishly – that he’d taken the time to grab his new knot from the barracks, because maybe then the bronze strand would have impressed her. Ah, but she’d have seen the weyrling pattern first, and thought nothing of him.
“Excuse me.”
The instant he opened his eyes, S’lyn’s heart stopped. It was her. She was blushing again, but this time she kept her eyes averted. Her hands twitched nervously at her waist until she twisted them together to keep still. “You – we talked at the dessert table, earlier? You got me an extra cake. I just wanted to say you were nice. Uhm. That’s all.” Her blush deepened. She took a deep breath and shuffled her feet, but stayed put.
S’lyn tried to think of something courtly to say. He wondered what the old harper would have advised in this situation. How it was a pleasure, probably, and no problem at all if it served her. “What’s your name?” he blurted out.
She looked up at him. Blinked a few times. “Masha.”
Masha. He liked that name. On a sudden impulse, S’lyn held his hand out, palm up. Masha’s flush shot up to the tips of her ears, but she nervously put her own hand into the offered space. Her skin was moist, but her fingertips felt callused. He gently closed his fingers over them. “I’m Sora – S’lyn. I’m S’lyn.”
Masha smiled. “S’lyn.” She stared at their hands, trying to bite that smile off her lips. “That’s a good name.”
Uhm, that’s weird. Are you okay? Where are you? I think I’m hungry again. I have a hurt in my belly, so I think I’m hungry.
Oh, shards. Chadath!
Two decades later.
“Masha, I’ll do no such thing.”
“Just admit you were looking for me, and I’ll leave it alone.”
“I don’t know what you imagined, Masha. You’re inventing things after they happened.”
“If you weren’t looking for me, why did you circle the room a hundred times that night?”
S’lyn looked at her over his wine glass. On this rare occasion, Masha had consented to come up to his weyr so he could put on the ritz away from their daughter’s prying eyes and lamentably loud mouth. A candle burned on the table between them. “How could you possibly know how many times I circled the room unless you were following me?”
Masha stared back at him frankly. Beat. “I was avoiding you.”
“Avoiding me!”
“Well! I was shy. And you know perfectly well it’s not in my nature to go up and start talking to strange men. So I watched you.”
Several glasses of wine had gotten to S’lyn, spreading warmth through his limbs and his mind. He felt half-dreamy already as he asked Masha, “And then?”
“Well, you stopped. And I guess I realized you’d stopped looking. And so I thought, well, Masha, you can’t go your whole life not knowing. Because I didn’t want you to leave. I had to go up and say something, even if I didn’t know what it was.”
Silence reigned for a moment. Then came the soft clink of glass as S’lyn set his wine down. He stretched his hands across the table, palms up. Masha glanced up from her lap and smiled softly. She placed her hands in his.
After a longer silence, she said, “So you admit you were looking for me.”
“Ach, Masha!”
“Admit it!”
“Fine. Fine. I was looking for you.” She smiled smugly, but he was not done yet. “I was looking for you since long before that, but you didn’t know. I’d seen you across the room at my first Hatching Feast, and I thought even then that I wanted to know who you were. For two turns I waited at the Weyr for another hatching, and every time my work took me to the kitchens I’d brush up a bit first, hoping I’d see you there. But I didn’t.
“I didn’t see you again until that Feast you make so much of. It was no accident that we met, Masha: I bumped into you on purpose, because something about you seemed familiar and I had to see your face. But when I did, and when I saw you, I couldn’t say anything. I wasn’t really expecting it to be you. I let you walk away, but yes, afterwards I went looking for you. I didn’t want to spend another two turns not knowing if I’d ever have another chance to find you, wondering what would have happened if we met.”
He fell silent, unwilling to meet Masha’s surprised stare any longer. Frustration flushed the tips of his ears, and already he wished he’d said nothing. That he had been right about his feelings for Masha did not mean he had been any less stupid for having them. He had been fifteen the first time he saw her, she thirteen, and neither of them wise enough to know the difference between love and desire. Certainly not from a passing glance.
Masha’s hands had grown lax in his own, so S’lyn released them. Attempting to restore some ordinary domesticity to the scene, he patted her hands gently before drawing away. He picked up his glass.
But Masha abruptly stood up, leaving what remained of her meal and her wine. She walked to his side and trailed a finger along the red flush of his ear, tenderly tipping his head up until he met her eye. “Those two turns you couldn’t find me,” she said. “I was avoiding you then, too.”
Suffice to say that S’lyn’s wine was forgotten after that.
At the end of the song, he snuck to a bench near the back of the room and collapsed. He didn’t mind that he’d been left Standing, and hoped his friends would understand that. It wasn’t sour grapes that drove him to retreat, just... exhaustion. Things didn’t move this fast back home, nowhere near it.
He hadn’t been resting there for long when he heard footsteps approaching him. K’miel, most likely, come to carry through his challenge for a chugging contest. Soralyn braced himself for a headache and looked up.
It wasn’t K’miel at all. It was a kitchen girl come to collect abandoned trays from the back tables. Their eyes met for a moment and they both blinked, then the girl looked away. Soralyn smiled. Seemed like a nice girl. It was good to know they still had those in the Weyr.
“There you are!” A voice broke in. “Thought you could get away from old K’miel, eh? Well, K’miel’s more clever than that. Come, I’ve got the crowd together! We’ll see who chokes this time, hah!”
Two turns later.
S’lyn’s head was still spinning. Chadath! He couldn’t believe it. He especially couldn’t believe it when he realized Chadath was a bronze, a fact the dragonet’s glimmer-less hide had obscured in the first moments of Impression. He wondered if his aunt, who had retired to bed as soon as the Hatching was over, had figured it out before she left. She’d be in for a surprise tomorrow if she hadn’t.
He sat in the back of the room, surveying the dance floor with a big smile. Chadath! It didn’t matter any more that the other weyrlings didn’t like him, that he’d spent the last few months getting picked on for his short size and stilted Harper diction. Only Chadath mattered, and Chadath had chosen him.
Glancing at the nearest banquet table, he felt a quick twinge of interest. Well, why not treat himself to dessert? He was celebrating, after all. S’lyn pushed off his seat and strode over to the table, shoulders back and head high. But as he nudged in next to a plump girl who’d piled her plate high with rich food, his elbow bumped into her arm. A little cake tumbled from its perch.
“I’m very sorry. Let me get another one for you, here.” As he tipped a brand new cake gently off his fork, S’lyn glanced up at the girl with his best gentlemanly smile.
Her eyes met his. A blush sprang to her cheeks. Then they both blinked, and it was over.
“Thank you,” she said, and walked away.
Two hours later.
The party was winding down, but S’lyn was growing anxious. By now, he had stopped lying to himself about his intentions. He wasn’t stretching his legs. He wasn’t scanning for food. He was looking for the girl.
To have let her get away, when she had been so close, was... galling. And now the room was emptying out, but still he saw no sign of her. She must have gone to bed. He should have gone to bed also. His restless thoughts were disturbing Chadath’s slumber.
He rolled his shoulders back against the wall, flattening himself against it with a sigh. He really shouldn’t dwell. Whoever the girl was, she likely hadn’t noticed him at all. S’lyn wished – suddenly, foolishly – that he’d taken the time to grab his new knot from the barracks, because maybe then the bronze strand would have impressed her. Ah, but she’d have seen the weyrling pattern first, and thought nothing of him.
“Excuse me.”
The instant he opened his eyes, S’lyn’s heart stopped. It was her. She was blushing again, but this time she kept her eyes averted. Her hands twitched nervously at her waist until she twisted them together to keep still. “You – we talked at the dessert table, earlier? You got me an extra cake. I just wanted to say you were nice. Uhm. That’s all.” Her blush deepened. She took a deep breath and shuffled her feet, but stayed put.
S’lyn tried to think of something courtly to say. He wondered what the old harper would have advised in this situation. How it was a pleasure, probably, and no problem at all if it served her. “What’s your name?” he blurted out.
She looked up at him. Blinked a few times. “Masha.”
Masha. He liked that name. On a sudden impulse, S’lyn held his hand out, palm up. Masha’s flush shot up to the tips of her ears, but she nervously put her own hand into the offered space. Her skin was moist, but her fingertips felt callused. He gently closed his fingers over them. “I’m Sora – S’lyn. I’m S’lyn.”
Masha smiled. “S’lyn.” She stared at their hands, trying to bite that smile off her lips. “That’s a good name.”
Uhm, that’s weird. Are you okay? Where are you? I think I’m hungry again. I have a hurt in my belly, so I think I’m hungry.
Oh, shards. Chadath!
Two decades later.
“Masha, I’ll do no such thing.”
“Just admit you were looking for me, and I’ll leave it alone.”
“I don’t know what you imagined, Masha. You’re inventing things after they happened.”
“If you weren’t looking for me, why did you circle the room a hundred times that night?”
S’lyn looked at her over his wine glass. On this rare occasion, Masha had consented to come up to his weyr so he could put on the ritz away from their daughter’s prying eyes and lamentably loud mouth. A candle burned on the table between them. “How could you possibly know how many times I circled the room unless you were following me?”
Masha stared back at him frankly. Beat. “I was avoiding you.”
“Avoiding me!”
“Well! I was shy. And you know perfectly well it’s not in my nature to go up and start talking to strange men. So I watched you.”
Several glasses of wine had gotten to S’lyn, spreading warmth through his limbs and his mind. He felt half-dreamy already as he asked Masha, “And then?”
“Well, you stopped. And I guess I realized you’d stopped looking. And so I thought, well, Masha, you can’t go your whole life not knowing. Because I didn’t want you to leave. I had to go up and say something, even if I didn’t know what it was.”
Silence reigned for a moment. Then came the soft clink of glass as S’lyn set his wine down. He stretched his hands across the table, palms up. Masha glanced up from her lap and smiled softly. She placed her hands in his.
After a longer silence, she said, “So you admit you were looking for me.”
“Ach, Masha!”
“Admit it!”
“Fine. Fine. I was looking for you.” She smiled smugly, but he was not done yet. “I was looking for you since long before that, but you didn’t know. I’d seen you across the room at my first Hatching Feast, and I thought even then that I wanted to know who you were. For two turns I waited at the Weyr for another hatching, and every time my work took me to the kitchens I’d brush up a bit first, hoping I’d see you there. But I didn’t.
“I didn’t see you again until that Feast you make so much of. It was no accident that we met, Masha: I bumped into you on purpose, because something about you seemed familiar and I had to see your face. But when I did, and when I saw you, I couldn’t say anything. I wasn’t really expecting it to be you. I let you walk away, but yes, afterwards I went looking for you. I didn’t want to spend another two turns not knowing if I’d ever have another chance to find you, wondering what would have happened if we met.”
He fell silent, unwilling to meet Masha’s surprised stare any longer. Frustration flushed the tips of his ears, and already he wished he’d said nothing. That he had been right about his feelings for Masha did not mean he had been any less stupid for having them. He had been fifteen the first time he saw her, she thirteen, and neither of them wise enough to know the difference between love and desire. Certainly not from a passing glance.
Masha’s hands had grown lax in his own, so S’lyn released them. Attempting to restore some ordinary domesticity to the scene, he patted her hands gently before drawing away. He picked up his glass.
But Masha abruptly stood up, leaving what remained of her meal and her wine. She walked to his side and trailed a finger along the red flush of his ear, tenderly tipping his head up until he met her eye. “Those two turns you couldn’t find me,” she said. “I was avoiding you then, too.”
Suffice to say that S’lyn’s wine was forgotten after that.