Checking in (Prontin)

[Marnark]

Everything was a wreck. The Weyr was a wreck, everyone's morale was a wreck, a lot of people's bodies and minds were also a wreck. R'gar was hardly an exception. Having seen first-hand a lot of the damage that had been wrought, as a Healer trying to set it right ... a body couldn't see things like that and come out unscathed. He needed to get away for a few candlemarks. Away from the crying and groaning ... especially since for right now, there was little he could do. It was just a waiting game. Waiting for them to heal. Unfortunately, numbweed was in too short a supply to have them all resting comfortably.

To make matters worse, Apollath was being entirely sulky about the whole thing. R'gar knew for a fact this had not been the first time the Holdless had attacked a Weyr ... he also knew that this was not the first time Dragons had died, not even in Apollath's short lifetime. But the brown's morale was still in the pits. Which naturally dragged R'gar down along with him.

It was a double-bind for the Healer to be in. So he walked out, assured that there was nothing else he could do for the moment. Air, space, silence ... he needed that. To heal his own mind so that he could continue to care for those hurt by the Holdless.

It was without any attention that he walked down hallways, meandering away from the Infirmary with no real destination in mind. Not consciously anyway. Still, he found himself in the halls near where Prontin had lived, when he bothered to come out of his own awareness and back into reality.

A pang of regret and fear touched him, and he turned his steps more directly toward where she had lived ... if she and her family still resided there, he didn't know. He had seen her briefly during the attack, but he had been entirely too busy to keep track of her.

So it was with great trepidation and hope both that he stopped and knocked upon the door. Hoping that she and her family were alright. All while fearing the worst.

[Lady Smara]

It was the solemn face of Filkos who opened the door. He had to look up at the tall brownrider, but he recognized the man. Turning to glance back in the room he let out a sigh before scratching the back of his head. Stepping back from the door, he opened it further without a word to show Prontin curled up upon the couch. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t move. Her eyes were red and puffy and in one pale hand she held a small cloth.

“Father is out. If you want to come in, I’ll go and come back in a candlemark. Maybe… maybe you can remind her life still goes on.” At that the younger Filkos looked again at his older sister, though he had never felt younger than her. Shaking his head, he let his next thought go unheard as he moved out the door and closed it softly behind him.

[Marnark]

R'gar was relieved to find that there was indeed someone here. Though the greeting he received was not ... ideal. As Filkos moved back, his gaze immediately took in Prontin. Without a moment's hesitation, he was worried. Was she hurt? Was someone else hurt? He looked to Filkos as he spoke, about to ask what was going on when he abruptly up and left, leaving R'gar there alone with Prontin.

He'd mentioned their father being out ... but what about her mother? Where was she? Was she here? "Prontin?" R'gar asked, moving over toward where the Harper was seated. Crouching downward, he reached out to gently rest a hand upon her shoulder. "Prontin, what's wrong?" He didn't immediately see any injuries ...

Where was her mother? She was usually here, wasn't she? He glanced at the doorway that led into the other room, but he didn't hear anything. Not yet, anyway. Maybe she was resting. But his attention inevitably returned to Prontin, his gaze searching her for a source of her woes.

[Lady Smara]

Prontin had heard the door open and words shared, but she didn’t bother to actually listen to what was being said. It was background noise and as far as she was concerned at the moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now – Her small world had just grown smaller; her dark world, darker. Sniffing again, her eyes remained staring sightlessly off in the distance.

She heard her name spoke, but it was not until a hand was rested gently upon her shoulder that she finally tore herself out of her thoughts to actually listen to the words being spoken in front of her. Recognizing R’gar’s voice, a fresh tear rolled down her cheek as she slowly sat up, reaching out for the large and sturdy brownrider.

“She’s gone, R’gar.” She choked out, her fingers finding his shirt before she slid off the couch and wrapped her arms around him. “Momma’s gone. She’s not coming back, R’gar. What am I suppose to do? How am I suppose to be able to live without her? She helped me with everything… And now she’s gone.”

[Marnark]

R'gar caught her up in a hug as she came toward him, supporting her as comfortingly as he was able. This kind of hurt ... no Healer could numb. Only time could. "I'm sorry." He said quietly, not at all sure what he could do to make life easier on her. This was hardly a time for a pep talk, either - though he'd certainly given plenty of those.

There was, after all, a time for mourning, and it had to be done. Or it festered deep in the soul. Even with that, he couldn't help but notice the direct thoughts that came from this sorrow. Maybe that was just how the stress manifested, he didn't know.

"It'll be alright, Prontin, I promise. Some adjustments will have to be made of course, but ... other people are willing to help you too." He reassured her, though he was fairly certain that this concern was not her greatest hurt. Sure, she was scared, that was only natural. She did rather need the help in daily life. But that didn't cause pain to the soul.

He had hoped she and her family would have come out alright, but apparently that had been too much to hope for. "You're never alone, I promise."

[Lady Smara]

Prontin felt the tears fall fresh on her cheeks once more, hot and unbidden as they nearly burned trails across her skin. She could not help it as she took fistfuls of the large brownrider’s shirt, burying her face into the material and trying in vain to take comfort in his scent. As comforting as the man was who held her now, she still cried. It was her mother. She had been so close to her and her everlasting patience with her handicapped child.

Some time passed before she was able to calm herself into coherent thinking again. Sniffing, she pulled back slightly so that her voice would not be muffled against his firm, broad chest. “I’m sorry, R’gar, I have not asked how you and Apollath are doing.”

[Marnark]

R'gar wrapped his arms around Prontin as she clutched at his shirt and proceeded to soak it thoroughly with well-deserved tears. He could understand her sense of loss ... and the fear that had to be going with it. Not only had she lost her mother - anyone sensible would be distraught at that - but her caretaker as well.

Gently he smoothed her hair, letting her get the worst of it out of her system and feeling rather inadequate as a Healer - there was nothing he could do for her. Nothing at all. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head tenderly.

He smiled slightly at the irony of her statement when she did get a handle on herself. "We're alright, for the most part. Apollath took a few cuts, but nothing too bad. He's already almost healed. You're the one I was concerned about when I didn't find you anywhere. I am glad to find you alright for the most part. I want you to know that if you need anything ... anything at all. All you have to do is tell me. I'll be here for you. As will your father and brother." Of which he was entirely only too sure of. He'd seen how they interacted with her, even if those had only been the briefest of glances into her familial life. Uncaring, they were not.

Pulling a kerchief out of his pocket, he dried the worst of her tears off of her cheeks, and then offered the cloth to her. In case she needed one.

"Have you gone outside at all recently?" R'gar asked.

[Lady Smara]

It was all too true that the Weyr Harper and his Son would be there for their daughter. Perhaps almost more so than necessary once the shock of his wife’s death managed to disappate out of the Harper. He had been gone often the past few days, helping to bury her body and then simply trying to figure out what he needed to do next. His life had been tipped upside down with the loss of his weyrmate. All too soon, however, he would realize he had only one woman left in his life – his daughter.

At his question, Prontin sniffled once more as she attempted to school her own emotions. “No, I have not been outside since before the attack. I… I haven’t left the rooms here. Filkos has been bringing me food and drink.”

[Marnark]

"That is kind of him." R'gar replied thoughtfully, trying to figure out in which direction lay the thickest ice. Not that it mattered much since it was all seriously thin stuff. "I think it might help you a lot if you did go outside."

Not that he was going to explain why. There were lots of whys to it. Any one of them would be good. Fresh air. Sunshine, if in small doses. Being in an environment that didn't remind her of her mother quite so much. All these things could aid the healing of her ragged world and emotions. But to tell her these things wouldn't help a bit. It would only refocus her on her woes. What she needed was distraction. Grieving shouldn't drive one to personal death after all. As necessary as it was, it wasn't meant to be lethal. As small as her world was ... she needed to be reminded that there was still a world out there.

"I can take you out if you like." He offered.

[Lady Smara]

While from anyone else his question of whether or not she had been outside would have been found strange, she had come to love her little trips outside with the man. Outside where she could feel the sunlight paint its warmth across her skin; Outside where she could feel the breeze tickle her scalp as it moved her hair with its gentle touch. While the touch she longed for was that of her mother’s, she could not help but feel a little warmth at the prospect.

The fact that it was R’gar who offered to take her seemed to make it more inviting despite the circumstances. Schooling her emotions, she finally answered, soft as the answer was. “Yes, I think that might be a good thing.”

[Marnark]

R'gar smiled slightly when she admitted to wanting to go. This was a good sign. "Come on." He took her hand and guided her to her feet. Where he paused long enough to give her a brief hug and drop a gently kiss on her forehead. Searching about, he found her shoes and helped her into them before taking her hand and leading her out into the tunnels. Soon enough, they emerged out into the light of the day. Finding an out-of-the-way spot where she wouldn't have to move unless she wanted to, he hoped that the breeze and the sun would bring her around soon. In the mean time he stood behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

It wasn't exactly the most well planned of things, but he hoped it would help her. He really did want to help her through this, but didn't really know how to. But maybe nature would work her magic on her, and maybe the non-restraining hug would comfort her some. Remind her that life went on, but yet she wasn't alone, maybe?

"We've got a few clouds riding high today." He mentioned, just to tell her something she couldn't sense on her own. He knew she knew what rain was ... there had been that whole awkward period where Apollath had rescued her from a storm after all. But did she know what a gentle rain was? "How many times have you been in the rain?" He asked, deciding that he really was curious enough to ask.

[Lady Smara]

Once outside in the sun, she felt the warmth upon her face and turned her face skyward as if searching out more of that warmth almost hungrily. She didn’t know where in the bowl she was, and in truth she paid little attention – knowing full well that she was with R’gar and that he would guide her back safely. Closing her eyes, though it was out of comfort and not out of any sort of need, she kept her face turned toward the sun as she unconsciously searched for that warmth and simple comfort.

When R’gar moved behind her, gently wrapping his arms about her waist, she could not fight back the smile – not that she wanted to – as it curved her lips. Putting her arms on top of his, she stepped back so that she was leaning against his warm, broad chest and let out a little sigh. It was a sigh of contentment. Yes, her world was dark and now it no longer held that helpful hand, that friendly voice of her mother who would always be there to guide her. But there was still warmth in the world. The warmth of the sun and the warmth of R’gar.

Clouds. Still facing the sun, she tilted her head slightly so an ear was turned up toward R’gar even as her head still rested upon his chest. “Clouds. Describe them to me?” she asked softly. Like the stars, it had always been something she had heard about, but never been able to experience. Hearing his next question spoken, however, she grew quiet for a moment, considering and reliving each experience in turn. As she did so, a slight shiver ran down her spine and made her shudder in the brown rider’s arms.

“Three times.” She answered honestly. “Twice when I was a child, but each time a parent was nearby and took me inside quickly. It scared me each time, to have all of the sounds of the world covered up by the noise of the rain. The third time was when Apollath found me. That was my first time out in the rain myself. I should have known better than to come outside without a guide.”

[Marnark]

R'gar continued to hold her secure with one arm while freeing the other to gently brush her hair out of her face as she leaned back against him, face to the sky. He couldn't help but smile at the expression she wore. Not just on her face but on all of her being. For being unable to see, she sure knew how to smile in the presence of natural beauty. Shards, she was a specimen of natural beauty herself. It looked so natural on her.

"Clouds. There are lots of kinds of cloud. Almost all of them are beautiful, and all are impressive." R'gar answered, tilting his own face upward to contemplate the clouds overhead. "Clouds most of the time are bright white, standing out against the brilliant blue of the sky itself. Most of the generic clouds are puffy and soft looking, like little bits of fluffy down drifting on the wind. When they get bigger they develop a flat bottom as if sitting on a pane of glass." He described, though some of the descriptions were going to go over her head. Like the concept of color. "Other times the higher clouds can be seen. They are more ragged and streaky, like shards of ice scraped across the higher ceiling, refracting light down here. Every great now and again you can see rainbows in those clouds, they're so high and so frozen-looking."

She'd never known a good, warm, gentle rain. That was sad. "I'll have to show you a good rain someday then. Not all rain is so frightening as the one Apollath found you in. There is nothing to fear from most rain. Storms are different from rain. That one you got lost in was a storm, and not a kind one at that." R'gar said, reaching down briefly to lay a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry about it. If it does by some chance happen again, we'll come for you. Like before." He assured her, wrapping both arms around her again.

At least her mind was off of her mother, which was the whole point of coming outside. It seemed to have worked pretty well.

[Lady Smara]

Fluffy and soft. As she listened to R’gar describe the clouds above them, she let out a little sigh while she leaned against his comfortable warmth. His broad chest at her back and his arms wrapped gently around her, rather than feeling confined, she felt protected. Protected from the cold of the world; protected from the evil, horrible things the holdless could do; Protected from the reality that her mother was no longer with her in the world.

Fluffy and Soft. For some reason those two words used to describe the clouds above them had caught in Prontin’s mind, but her thoughts kept moving off focus. Off the clouds she could not see and to R’gar whom she could hear, smell and feel. Fluffy was the last word she would have ever thought to use to describe the tall, solid man. Soft didn’t describe the firmness of his chest or the solidity of his arms, but it did describe his gentle caress and the feel of his hair, kept longer than her fathers.

As he continued his description, however, Prontin felt a frown tugging at the corner of her lips. Her mind caught once more on two descriptive words that seemed the exact opposite of anything she could picture as fluffy and soft. She associated those two words with warmth and comfort – but then R’gar used the words ‘ice’ and ‘frozen-looking’. Turning back to him, she lifted an eyebrow. “Clouds can be so different, yet still all remain clouds? It sounds as if you describe two very different things entirely.”

From there the conversation shifted to the rain and while she did not lean more heavily into him as he promised her that rain could be a good thing too, she certainly did not make any attempt to pull away. She had meant to ask how something so disorienting could be termed as a ‘good’ thing, but feeling his lips press against her forehead gently, her mind wandered back to descriptive words.

Good. Soft. Gentle. Warm. Strong. Protector. These words are R’gar.

[Marnark]

R'gar laughed a little. "Clouds have many, many forms. There are more kinds of cloud than there are kinds of food, I'd wager. What they do, what they look like, what formed them ..." He shrugged slightly. "The frozen looking ones are so high in the sky that no dragon could ever reach them. They're like crystals in the sky. I can't imagine they'd be nice for encountering anyway. It is better they stay up there and be pretty. It is the lowest and warmest of clouds that make rain ... and even those are not warm at all. Most of them are quite cold, some others are actually freezing on the inside. It's how we get ice and hail from them. The warmest of clouds is like ..." R'gar paused a moment, and then tried again. "When Apollath and I flew through them, it was like a super foggy winter morning. Cold, damp, and so very difficult to see. Clouds are a lot better looked at than met, I agree."

He couldn't have any notion of the things she was thinking or the way she was connecting words together the way she was. He was just doing what he felt was right - and so what if that happened to coincide with things he liked to do? Holding Prontin was certainly a treat all his own. He was quite pleased to see that his gambit to cheer her up was working though. She was looking so much better.

"Rain, on the other hand, also has different forms. There is a good, gently, warm rain. Those are fun to be in. And there are driving cold rains. There are sprinkles, there are deluges ... no two rains are alike, though many can be similar. If you like, I could show you. I wouldn't leave you, you won't be lost or alone." He assured her. He'd also certainly never take her out in anything dangerous. No true storms.