Two Weyrlings Weather More Than One Storm

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Weyrling Training Field

Near the tall black eastern wall of the crater is a cleared field. The earth there has been churned many times over by the landings and take offs of young dragons and only a few patches of grass cling to life in this active area. Wooden props and markers used to assist the weyrlings as they learn the precise maneuvers required for the rescue and protection work that the weyr is famous for, litter the training field. Close to the rimwall, in the east where the sun is usually shaded is a large wooden slat barracks for the weyrlings to live in. Tropical trees and shrubs have been allowed to grow here, perfuming the air with a floral scent.

The wind is whipping through the Weyr, though there is some protection with the high walls of the bowl, however the stinging rain that comes proceeding the hurricane leaves a lot to be desired. However, a little weather isn't going to stop them from doing their drills. Catwin douple checks the straps that are on Fascath and mutters about needing to oil them all over again after this. Fascath has his face up into the air as he enjoys the falling rain. Course, the slickness of the ground has left it's marks upon him as well. One misplaced step had him sliding and his right hindleg is completely saturated with mud and he left a nice gauge in the ground. Catwin is double thankful for the leathers, even if they seemed to have gain several thousands of pounds with all the rain hitting it.

Aedeluth is sort of hunkered against the wind, turned so that it's at his back rather than in his face, at least for the time being. The mental equivalent of a look is sent his blue-brother's direction because, « Really Fascath? Face into the rain? Have you no sense? » S'van has already tightened all that needs tightening, and is currently pulling goggles down over his head, having procured a pair from somewhere. A quick tug of the leathers, just to be sure, and then he's hauling himself up the bronze neck and settling himself between shoulderblades. He's traded his tunic for a jacket, if just to protect from the rain, though it does not help with the warmth of the tropical climate. "PROBABLY WON'T BE LONG," he yells across to Catwin, even as Aedeluth is climbing up and beginning a slow and careful trek towards the pair.

Putting on her own goggles she then pulls herself up onto Fascath, her boots slipping a little on his wet hide. "Sorry." she murmurs to the blue. He turns his head and whuffles softly and then he's gazing over at his bronze brother « It did wash the mud off, and it feels good. » He states, though he does turn his angle now that Cat is aboard as she works at securing the straps "Shards this is harder gloved and wet than ungloved and dry." she mutters and then there's finally some tugging as she checks it's security. She looks up at S'vans yell and gives him kind of a look "YOU THINK?!" She snorts and then looks up at the sky herself to wash the outside of the goggles a little and then shes looking down. Fascath takes a couple careful steps and then there's a pause as a foot disappears « Hmm. Pretty soft in some spots. »

"JUST MAKIN' CONVERSATION," S'van yells back, not at all offended at her look. There's a sort of smart-ass look on his face, even as he's scrunching down as best he can to try and avoid rain going down the back of his shirt. It's useless, really, and he's soon rather soaked through despite all attempts to prevent it. Oh well. Could be worse. Could be snow. As Aedeluth proceeds, Sev works at clipping himself into his straps, finding the same difficulty that Cat had as he works thick, clumsy gloved fingers at the snaps. Eventually, with a growl, he reaches up and bites at the finger of his glove, pulling it off to allow one hand free to secure himself. Done, glove goes back on, and he's ready to go. Aedeluth's limping mildly less pronounced, and the bronze is uncharacteristically careful in the muck. « Washes the mud away, hm? Only to make more of it. » and there's a pointed look towards the soft spotted ground. « This seems unsafe, » though his tone is anything but anxious. More like delightfully gleeful. « Irkevalath would never approve. » Oh joy. "Just be careful, and you'll be fine. I'm sure dragonriders had to endure worse during Thread, right?" Sure.

Don't even think about snow. Shiver. « It's cool and squishes between the toes. But yes, he would not like that. » Fascath seems vastly amused as he picks up foot and puts it down again. "Fascath, do you have to?" « Yes. » … Grump. Boys. « Dragon » "WHATEVER!" She yells as she throws up her hands and then she looks a little embarrased and coughs slightly "Yeah, Thread. Much worse. Though no Thread with a rain like this, so it was probably welcomed. But how are we supposed to drill if they can't walk?"

Aedeluth does not share Fascath's affinity for the mud. Though there is maybe some appreciation for the texture variation. He pauses in his steps to let knead gently at the ground, leaving deep, muddy furrows that quickly fill in once he lifts his leg once more. « Hm. » S'van is just… enduring at this point. "Do the wing stuff," he tells Aedeluth, who surprisingly obeys by starting the wing stretches. Careful steps, stretching one wing and then the other. The bronze has been practicing, and although he is limping through the mud, his steps are sure and he does not lose balance just because of his disability. "Yeah, but, just cause it was raining here doesn't mean it was raining there," there being, presumably, where Thread would have fallen, "So they still would'a had to get out of here and go there through the rain." It's all hypothetical, of course. But gives him something to think of besides the way there are now little rivers running from his hair down his neck and back. Ugh. "Fuck. How long do you think we have to be out here?"

Fascath follows suit with the wing stretches and then he turns just a little as he flaps and manages to catch a burst of wind that threatens to pull him along the mud, though not quite. "Hey now, watch it!" she admonishes as Fascath tries to repeat it. "Drills, not playing. Shards if Sunny caught you fooling around." she doesn't even finish that thought "Probably until we're shrivled worse than dried grapes." she says and then grins "Look at it this way. If you manage to not get muddy on the way back in, you won't have to wash." Fat chance of that "Though I suppose it wouldn't cver all the areas that Thread fell, but it could have at least minimized the area." she says thoughfully "Any bit would have been helpful I would think."

"I suppose it could be worse. Could be a sandstorm in Igen," decides S'van, attempting some sort of a grin that just sorta doesn't really make it there before vanishing. Aedeluth's wings flare, catching the breeze from behind as he walks with the direction of the wind, leaving no danger of accidental drift, though it does whistle against sails and spars. S'van is just about to say something else when there is a brilliant FLASH of lightning followed almost immediately by the heart-stopping *CRACK-BOOM* of thunder. "Er…" and he's definitely having second thoughts about this drill thing. Again, his mouth opens to give voice to his thoughts when the heaves open up and a torrential downpour begins, showering them as thoroughly as an over-turned bucket. « S'van thinks it may be a good idea to go inside now, » translates Aedeluth cheerfully, no doubt substituting some very CHOICE words to keep things polite.

Catwin is first blinded and then deafened and there is just the barest of noises from her as she cuts off a startled scream. Really wouldn't due for that now. Right? « I agree. » And Fascath doesn't even wait for a word from Catwin as he takes the pair of them off towards the barracks, slipping and sliding here and there. « Though it still might be fun to try mud surfing » Silence from Cat « No? » More silence. Wings go out to catch the wind "Fascath…" « Okay. No surfing. » Course by this time, Fascath is looking decidely more brown than blue. As they get nearer the barracks Catwin is trying to unbuckle the straps and starting to curse a little herself as she fumbles them. Gloves come off and just about when she seems ready to throw them down in a fit of pique she stops and then shoves them into her jacket. Finally she gets them off and she climbing down. No belie that, she's slipping down. And before Fascath can even say anything, she's in the mud. Sitting there. Dead silent. Fascath wuffles and then side steps as she glares at him "I'm fine!!!! Fine! Fine! Fine! Fine! Fine!"

Clearly, Cat is fine. So S'van does not offer to help. Nope. No offers of help here! Aedeluth was trailing behind, hindered only slightly by the way his limp forces him to walk just that much more carefully to avoid spills. So by the time he is at the barracks, and S'van is unclipping himself, Cat is in the mud and there's not much to be done about it. He's soaked thoroughly, so a little more rain really isn't going to do much to him. As Aedeluth crouches down, S'van swings his leg over the front of his neck and SLIIIIIIIIDES down that slick bronze side to land *THWU-SQUISH* in the mud, managing to stick the landing even if he does have to lean back against his beast to secure it. Ahem. Totally on point. "Just stay here," he tells the bronze, vanishing into the barracks for some much needed supplies; namely some towels and rags. "Here," and he offers a soft towel Cat-wards. "Er…" but at least he's wise enough not to do something stupid like say 'you got something on ya' cause yah. He's trying not to laugh and sorta failing. Not that he looks much better. Drowned rat, RIGHT HERE FOLKS. He's ditched his leather jacket, and the blue shift he wears is sticking to him like a second skin. There's a squishing sound when he walks, and his hair is dripping in his eyes. Delightful.

Catwin eyes S'van and his stifled laughs and then she just rolls her eyes and quirks a wry smile "Thank you." she says as she gets back up "Well, they do say mud is supposed to be good for the skin. Though I think it's a special kind, but this should work well enough. Right?" Fascath just blinks « Well it does feel nice, but how that is good? » He wonders. As lightning flashes again his attention is diverted and then he's holding a wing out over Cat. "Gee, thanks?" Now here's a dilema indeed. "Drop the wing would ya" And Fascath does and she takes advantage of the deluge of rain to wash most of the offending mud off. Or at least the vast clumps and then she's stepping inside. "Stay here." she warns Fascath and slips inside to take of jacket and hang it up and wipe most the mud off her face. She comes back out to work on the worst mud on Fascath. Her shirt clings and she keeps pulling at it to stop it from clinging. "Shards we ren't going to get all the mud off of them. are we?"

"Yeah… I'm pretty sure that statement does not hold true for this particular batch of mud," S'van says with a bit of a smirk. "Specially considering it's not exactly, uh, all mud." Cause ya know. Dragons do things in the training field. Messy things. But hey, let's not think about that right now, hm? Sev pinches at his own shirt, pulling the hem away from his body so that he can attempt to wring out the fabric. It works, but only to a point. Aedeluth huddles in the opening of the weyrling barracks, half-in, half-out as he attempts to gain cover without tracking mud into their temporary home. "Probably not," for getting all the mud off, "But we can at least get the majority of it. Here," and he walks up to Aedeluth, hand extended, "Hold out…" but he doesn't finish before Aede is offering a paw and Sev is carefully scraping his hands between toes and around claws, taking globs of mud off which he tosses outside. Another glance towards the field as the sky darkens considerably, rain falling in sheets that distort the view. "Shit. I hope they bring us some food out here. I think this is gonna last a few hours."

"Point. All the more reason to be diligent about cleaning things up." she notes as she works on cleaning Fascath of as much of it as possible. Though she's leaving his feet for last. "This is an excercise in futility." she mutters and then she hmms in a little "What we need is wash area like the set up for runners and all. Covered with running water. That would make sense. Would it not?" Catwin ponders and then she pauses "Fascath. There's vegetation in your armpit. How did you get vegetation in your ARMPIT?!" Fascath blinks and looks himself. Huh. He hadn't known it was there."

S'van is working from the bottom up, maybe? Or just removing the squishy-mud and stone from between sensitive dragon toes. At Catwin's comments regarding running water, he peers around Aedeluth towards the storm and offers, "Stick your paw out…" and Aedeluth moves, shuffling a bit so that he can spin around and thrust his muddy appendage into the rain. It helps, marginally. "At least try to scrape the worst of it off, then we can let the rest dry and use one of those stiff brushes? That's what they had me do in the stables, during candidacy. They called it some sort of 'comb' and used it to get the crusty-bits off." Only with dragonhide, copious amounts of oil would likely follow. "Ugh. I've got to change," and he shuffles down the aisle toward his cot, shedding his shirt as he goes. Aedeluth huffs in amusement. « Talented, » he teases his brother.

« Secret weapon for hunting. » Catwin just stares at Fascath. What? Whatever. Catwin dearly needs a change but she is certainly not going to go about it like Sev is doing. And then there's a frown. Changing under the covers isn't quite the viable option either. Uh oh. She looks towards the sky "Wonder how long this is going to last. Maybe we need a boat." she mutters as she finishes getting most of the big chunks off the blue and then works his feet so he can shift into the barracks some more. "A big boat." And then Catwin is slipping inside and pulling off her boots to leave near the door and heads to her cot in her socks and snags some towels to lay on her trunk and on the floor and sits, looking dejected.

The make-shift 'rain as shower' seems to be working. At least somewhat. Aedeluth trades paws, letting the rain wash off the mud in tiny, little rivers. But he's soon bored with it, pulling himself inside to settle at the mouth of the barracks and stay out. Sev changes quickly, not at all shy about it as he tosses his shirt aside and goes for his pants. He trades leathers for cotton, coming back in something comfortable and decided not 'dragonrider-esque'. The indecision is perhaps noted, and he asks politely, "I can hold up a sheet, in a corner, if you want? I promise not to peek." Because sitting on soaking wet-and-muddy clothes is just no fun.

Catwin blinks a little as she looks quite indesisive. On one hand she does not want to stay in soaked clothes. But on the other hand, to be that trusting. "You really wouldn't peek?" she asks after a moment. I mean, if you can't trust your weryling class, who are you going to be able to trust? Fascath stretches a little here and there and then settles down to lay at the doorway, drying off and dripping all over the floor himself. But he's content. She's not.

"I swear on Aedeluth's life," is S'van's quick and serious answer, already moving to strip an unused bed of its sheet and blanket, to add an additional layer to the makeshift curtain. "Come on," he offers, already padding on bare-feet towards the far corner, away from the 'occupied' side of the barracks, apparently expecting her to follow. Aedeluth settles his bulk at the door, finding the oncoming storm fascinating. There is a brief outstretch of connection towards Fascath, a quick touch of minds, a companionable silence. Two brothers enjoying the storm.

Catwin hesitates a moment and then she's grabbing clean clothes and following. After all, an oath on one's dragons life is certainly not one made lightly in her opinion. "Thank you." she murmurs as she hurries to catch up, the wet leather pants already stiffening up. Probably wouldn't be good to be in them as they dried anyways. The storm is fascinating to Fascath as well. The sheer raw power that is displayed, the way the trees are bending to the forces of the wind. No words need to be said to Aedeluth. Mind touch is enough.

It is indeed an oath not made lightly. As Catwin catches up, S'van flashes her a quick, friendly smile, one hand already lifted above his head as he holds the makeshift curtain in place. "You're welcome." It's only once she's behind it and into the corner that he lifts the other. Sheet and blanket obscure the view, so that not even the shadow of her form can be seen. Yet even then, he politely turns his head away, looking towards the dragons at the door instead. "When they assign us weyrs, you should make sure yours has a private bath."

"Oh most definitely. Even if we have to haul up tubs ourselves." she notes as she changes as quickly as the wet clothes let her. There's a plop of wet leather and then after a few moments she says "Okay, I'm dressed." she notes as she gathers up the clothes in a towel. "These are going to be a pain to wash well." she says as she steps out from behind. "But I had been thinking of that. First I wanted on high up, but amenities like that pretty much are included in those, so I'm figuring one lowering to down for that reason. I am looking forward to being able to search the empty weyrs."

A grunt and a small huff of amusement. "Fascath would try carry the entire hotsprings up there, if you asked him to. I think a tub would be no problem." At Catwins assurance that she is clothed, S'van drops his arms and flashes another quick smile. He'll even be nice enough to (sorta) remake the bed he destroyed, laying out sheet and blanket in a way that resembles bedding. But the corners stay untucked and the sides are a bit uneven. Details. "I hadn't given it much thought," he lies, heading towards the dragons again. He drop himself onto an empty cot near the door, peeking past Aedeluth's bulk to watch the rain. "Up or down, doesn't matter as much to me," he admits. "But I think somewhere on the eastern side…"

Catwin is certainly not going to say anything about the bed not being made back to regs, that'd just be plain petty. "You're right. Fascath certainly would. The silly beast." she murmurs with a loving lilt to her voice "Eastern side huh?" she asks as she looks curiously at him but decides not to press the issue on who might be in that location. "I think that would be a good location." she adds as she follows along to storm watch. "Way this is going, looks like most every weyr is going to get hit with some of it blowing in. I'm not looking forward to when the eye passes. Always feels worse."

There's a soft sound of agreement, a quick, "Mm," for his preference on location, a shrug of his shoulders as if to dismiss it, and nothing else. "I haven't really thought past the upcoming lessons. Flying already," S'van comments, a smooth-ish change of subject. "I'm ready for Aedeluth to be in the air, where his leg won't hold him back." There's a bit of bitterness, or maybe just determination, in his tone. A brief stretch of silence; grey eyes looking out at the deluge of rain that all but obscures the view. "Yeah," he agrees somewhat resigned. "Though maybe we can make a break for the Living Caverns when it passes over? Cause I think all I've got stashed in my trunk is some old jerky." A wince at flash of lightning, followed quickly by the earth-shattering BOOM of thunder that provides temporary deafness. "Been through a hurricane before?" he wonders.

Catwin nods "I think it'll be much better when we are flying." she looks thoughtful about the thoughts of food and then she blinks and she's smacking her forhead with her palm. She's headed back to her cot and she's writing something out and then attaching it to Curacao's leg and the little blue disappears off into Between. "Well, we can't just live on jerky." she says after a moment "Still, when the eye hits us, it'll be pretty calm out. I've been through a few, but with an inside room it wasn't that big of an issue. Here though." she shakes her head "Something else indeed." After some minutes. Curacao is back, along with a few other firelizards holding onto a basket. The sent of fresh made bread loaves and sliced meats can be smelled under the covering. Catwin snags the basket and oofs "Goodness, they packed it full." Inside is also an assortment of fruits and cold fried chicken and other goodies.

"I probably could," live on just jerky, "But it wouldn't be my first choice." Curious grey eyes follow Catwin as she smacks her forehead and goes about writing something. As he watches the drunken-blue blink away, a slow grin spreads across his face. "Cat. You're fucking brilliant," because maybe he guessed her intent even before her pet is returning with grub. "I've been through a few in Ista, but yeah. We've always been around stone." And now he's eyeing the wooden structure suspiciously, as if he knew something about construction and building strength (he doesn't). "If it gets too bad, we can probably move into the Queen's weyrs, or the ground weyrs, right? Or even into the Hatching Sands, even if that would be miserably hot." And then the magnificent firelizard is returning, and thoughts of the storm are secondary to his stomach, which has decided to growl audibly.

Catwin smiles just a little "I do try sometimes." she then blinks "Well, I dunno about the queens weyrs. Maybe, more likely the ground weyrs, and well the dragons would probably love the sands, though I don't think the galleries would be all to comfortable, but I suppose beggers can be choosers and all." she notes as she pulls out a knife from the basket and starts slicing one of the small loaves lengthwise and then hands to to S'van before starting on one for herself. She startes fixing a sandwich and then putting it together and then she cuts it up into smaller pieces and takes one to eat. She too looks at the structure "Well, it's held before. I think?"

S'van accepts the offering with greedy fingers and grateful expression. "Thank you." There's an assortment of things that make its way into his sandwich, haphazard and distractedly, and he's not nearly as neat about it as Catwin, not even bothering to slice or dice things before he lifts it up for a bite. "Sands may be hot but at least it's secure. And there's enough space for the ten of us." As for their current abode withstanding previous storms? Chewing thoughtfully, his eyes turn towards the rafters once again. "Has it?" he wonders. "Who says it hasn't been rebuilt? At least in part?" maybe. "Though I'm sure Sundari would have us moved out if they had concerns about it collapsing," and this seems to settle him a bit, even as the storm grows in volume and intensity. "Maybe they'll assign weyrs early. For safety. There are plenty available, from what I know. And there are some that aren't that far off the ground. Easy enough for them to get too." Them being the baby dragons.

"You're welome" she murmurs as she leaves the others out for anyone else who might want to bite and takes the quarter she cut. Plenty enough sandwich for her to eat at one time. And then she takes her time eating it. "It is at that." The sands being big enough. "Though, I would hope Sundari would evacuate us out if there was concern." she smiles "I do like the idea of getting our weyrs early though." Privacy! "And indeed, lows one would be good for now. Could always move later if needed." Catwin looks thoughtful.

Sleep? why a body would want sleep and the chances to dream is beyond Catwin, though sometimes she does end up sleeping despite herself. "Quiet would be nice. It's been so long since I had to share quarters. I'll be glad to have my own place again." she admits. At the question she blinks a little and then looks warily at S'van "I am doing fine." she says after a moment. "And we've been talkin this whole time." Yes, that was a deliberate misunderstanding. She looks out to the storm again, an odd look on her face and then she's looking at S'van again as if he'd grown two heads or something. "Where'd that come from anyways?"

Sleep. A necessary evil, for sure. Key word: Necessary. "You've been sharing quarters for almost a Turn now," notes S'van, teasing slightly. "Candidate barracks were far more crowded, even if we didn't have giant walking cotholds to share it with." Another bite of his giant sandwich, not at all ashamed. A lift of an eyebrow for her evasion, and then a shrug of his shoulder for the 'out of the blue' nature of his question. "Nowhere," he admits. "Just feel like we haven't talked is all." Sandwich is settled briefly in his lap, and he admits, "Baylee caught me sneaking out the other night. We talked, and it helped. Reminded me that talking actually serves a purpose sometimes. Figured I'd see if you wanted to talk, too." Vague. Dismissive. "I'm going to see a mindhealer."

"And don't I know it." for the length of time, and it still hasn't really gotten easier. Though sometimes she's spent more times on Fascath then in her own bed. "She is pretty observant." Catwin murmurs concerning Baylee "And she does have this knack of getting you talk too." She shakes her head some "And I dunno about a purpose, talking about some things really doesn't change it. Tried the mindhealer route once. That was pointless." There's a pause and she shakes her head "I'm not saying their pointless. I mean, I'm sure in a lot of instances they can really help out with things. But sometimes I can't see how they really an help when they've nothing to relate to something with. And breathing techiques and anger management tactics just don't do much for me other than put a bandaid on a gaping wound. Too little, too late." she murmurs. She shakes her head a little "I guess I'm just not willing to let certain things go, and it'll always be an issue, but it's my issue?"

"I was counting the days," notes S'van, "Until it stretched out past one-hundred and I got bored." And weyrlinghood became a blur of days and nights and days again until they lost all meaning. At least in the early days. A softer look towards Cat, and then he turns his attention towards the rain outside, and the dragons who continue to watch the storm roll in. "It's helping me. Talking to someone. Just getting things out has helped a lot," he admits. "But it also takes time. That's what he said, anyway. That it's gonna take a long time before I can… think about things without seeing red and wanting to put my fist through a wall. But it's getting better," he reiterates. Either because it helps to say so, or because he feels Cat needs to hear it, too. But for her unwillingness to let things go, he just glances her direction again, a calm and steady grey gaze, and a soft murmur. "It's not, though. It's now Fascath's issue, too."

"It's not ideal to put your first through a wall. Generally leads to broken bones and is actually quite painful." she notes quietly. With more a touch of seriousness then joking. Though she does try to add a little smile as if it was supposed to be tongue in cheek. She does listen to him and there's a little bit of of a quirky smile "Indeed, it is Fascath's." she notes quietly "I am glad it is getting better for you. It's not good to be under the pressure of things. I just, I just can't let myself forget things that have been forgotten, and I can't forget things that should be forgotten." Okay, so that made less since coming out of her mouth than it did in her head, but she just lets it lie. "He's wonderful though." Fascath that is. "He helps with the bad dreams" There's quiet for a few moments "And he won't betray." is murmured softly

"I am well aware," murmurs S'van for the consequences of fists through walls. Though maybe it is not personal experience, considering his knuckles looked rather unabused. And while she may consider her words to be senseless, there's a look on his face that says maybe, just maybe, they made perfect sense to him. "It's not really about forgetting," he explains. "That's what I'm learning. Because that's what I thought, at first. Push down the thing you don't want to think about. Shove it away and hope you forget it. Only it doesn't work. It just comes back, or it builds, and you end up doing stupid shit. But no," he continues. "It's not about forgetting something bad. It's more about… well, I dunno if this is gonna make much sense but…" and he pauses, brows furrowed as he looks for the right way to explain, the right words to make his meaning clear. "It's about accepting it for what it is. Something in the past, that cannot be changed. Something you can agree was bad, horrible even, but doesn't affect you today. Cause there's nothing you can do today about it." A sigh, and a roll of his eyes as he says, "I'm not even sure that made sense to me but, well… there it is. But it's definitely a process. No overnight cure." And a beat later, confessionally, "I have nightmares, too."

Catwin can't but help shake her head and gives a sad little laugh "I wish I could say it doesn't affect me today. Everyday brings reminders." she shakes her head and then shrugs "I want to forget though. I don't want to remember. It just hurts to remember." And therin lies the reason for the drinking. "I want to forget that there are people so terrible that they'll plot for months on end to foster the perfect image. Using people and then breaking them. Because they think it's fun." She clinches her fists. "And so twisting a person up they don't even know what they've done until it's too late." Fascath shifts from his position by the door, his tail twitching a little, anxiously. "Sorry Fascath." she murmurs softly and takes a deep breath and goes silent. She then glances at S'van "I'd wondered if it was more than insomnia." she notes quietly.

A lingering look on Catwin, a sort of silent acceptance and internalization of her words. Somewhere, he's connecting these new dots with older dots, forming a picture that may, someday, resemble the true Catwin and all of her secrets. "Mm." Silence acknowledgement of her whims. "But you can't forget. Because it haunts you." It's statement rather than question. "And when you try to force it, you become destructive. And you know your old coping mechanism won't be good for him." Fascath. "I can't forget, but I can cope. I can do things so that the knowledge doesn't… haunt me. Doesn't make it impossible to function on a daily basis. I mean, I dunno what happened," he admits, "but it happened. And now you have to deal with it." A beat, and a hardness of his eyes and jaw. "There's evil in this world, Cat. I don't have to tell you that. But what I will tell you is that… the knowledge of that evil has been more real to me in the last Turn than it had ever been before. And that's what I'm dealing with." Which flows right into his admission of nightmares, nodding his head slightly. "Yeah. No. Not just insomnia."

"Just over the last Turn." she says as she looks at S'van. She's silent for several long moments and then there's a certain look of acknowledgement in her eyes, but she doesn't ask for comfirmation of anything. SHe just nods a little "It does haunt me. Probably always will because I blame myself." she murmurs softly "And don't go telling me that it can't be my fault for his actions. Because the signs were there, but I let myself be blinded to them because I was a stupid git. I ignored them because I didn't want to see them. How many people might still be alive today if I wasn't so stupid?"

The barest nod of his head in acknowledgement. Yes. The last Turn. But no verbal confirmation or explanation. S'van settles into something of a comfortable position, sandwich continued with halfhearted enthusiasm as the storm rages on around the barracks. "Even if it was your fault," and his voice tries to convey that he is neither laying blame upon her, nor trying to remove it. Just neutral, "there is nothing you can do about it now. We can't change the past. But you don't have to let it dictate your present or your future. That's what I'm learning." He picks a bit of the lunchmeat from his sandwich, popping it in his mouth absently. "They do say hindsight is twenty-twenty," he murmurs, "But that doesn't mean you should blame yourself forever. Stupid shit happened. It was terrible. Horrible. Worst thing that could have happened to anyone," and maybe he's not talking about Cat anymore, the way his voice has drifted a bit, "But it's still past. History. Part of you that can't be removed, so you may as well find a way to live with it. A non-destructive way." Back to being in the present, and grey eyes focus on his friend firmly. "Those kinds of questions aren't doing anyone any good, Cat. The 'what if' questions. Who says anything woulda changed? If not you… could'a been someone else just like you. Could'a gone worse for all you know."

And this is why mindhealers and Cat don't work. She just doesn't want to hear the logic of it all. And she knows it's logical. And that just agitates her. "I know it's in the past, but I can't get past the past." Her foot just starts bouncing and then suddenly she's glaring at S'van. "You've seen scars. I know you have. I've seen them myself. Did he ever tell you if some of them still hurt? Sometimes they still do." She yanks up a sleeve, her skin is wrinkled and scared and there's a particularly nasty one near the elbow "Things like this make it hard to just let it be in the past. And that was nothing compared to some things." she then throws up her arms and stalks away. More as a means to stop herself from yelling at a friend then being pissed at him. She starts to head outside. Remembers the weather and just goes to through herself on her cot and pull the blankets up. Fascath quietly follows, though as he passes S'van there's a soft whuffle and then he's curled up on his couch and then Cat is out of bed and climbing up onto him, bringing the blanket with.

There is a sharp intake of breath, and his sandwich is discarded. Laid down somewhere likely not meant to have food placed on it. Abandoned and forgotten immediately. S'van's focus suddenly goes from focused to electric, pinning on Cat's face at the mention of scars. And 'he'. And hurting. The force of emotion that hits him is reflected ever so briefly on his face, something between hurt and longing, and then it's gone. Replaced by a neutral sort of expression. Calm. Cool. Collected. And he's looking at Cat's scars, able to appreciate the pain they cause without letting it sink too deeply. There are no words, though. Even as she continues, stands, and abandons him. There's only the look of hurt that follows her as she goes to lay down and Fascath follows. The barest flicker of a smile, soft and understanding, toward the blue. And then Sev is moving as well, bare feet padding almost soundlessly on the stone. To the doorway, a hand trailing over Aedeluth as he exits, heedless of the rain as he vanishes out of the barracks and into the storm.

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