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Like Mother, Like Daughter; Tag: Missa
Topic Started: Jun 29 2009, 11:44 AM (146 Views)
Sammy-hime
Unregistered

Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. Patter.

The runner under her was warm with exercise, hooves beating steadily against the grass of the large stretch of grasslands, almost tundra like as they were in the early morning frost. The mare - or Connie, as she'd been named - was far from exhausted though, and certainly more than happy to assist the diminutive woman who bestrode her in her endeavour to travel from where they'd spent the past five and a half months to where they were going now - the Runner Station.

Or maybe the runner mare was just delighted to be out of all that sharding sand, with its potholes and uneven surface that burnt your undersoles and got up your nose and in your ears and never mind the spices and romantic tales of Igen, because in the end, it was sharding annoying, and despite her romantic Harper upbringing, Rebekah sympathised whole heartedly with her runner, and her mouth twitched slightly when Connie threw her head up, ears flickering forward alertly at the wide expanse of grass before them, and in particular, the dot that Rebekah at least, knew was the Runner Station in the distance. She knew that, though she figured Connie didn't. Like all simple creatures, the little grey runner only saw the potential for a drink and a good feed on the surrounding foliage, if she was given the chance.

"Oh, alright, alright," Bek said half irritably, half playful as Connie pranced restlessly under her. It was a good thing runner riding had actually been one of the lessons taught at her ancestral Hold and at the Harper Hall, else she'd definitely not be the rider she was (despite whatever tragedies in her past that could have turned her off it). Of course, being fit was a requirement when you were sent out on missions anyway, and at any rate, those occassions where you had to hold on when you were on a dragon definitely helped with muscle tone and leg strength. Especially with Carenth - that brown was so sharding cheeky that he no doubt got a kick out of her screams and curses of fright when he did his crazy antics with her on board now and then.

Despite her exasperation with the sharding dragon, the thought of him still made her smile, and despite herself, the Journeywoman Artist bit her lip in almost longing anticipation for when she'd return to Benden Weyr, or at least first, see her daughter again after how long? Five and a half months...had it really been that long? The days had just seemed to blend with the sands when she was in Igen. Blending in, like her sharding skin had after a month there. Rebekah crinkled her nose at her now creamy brown skin, far from its once pristine paleness, making those abominably annoying freckles sprinkling her cheeks and nose more prominent than ever. It had made her eyes more prominent too - bright emerald against the darker brown, but she was too busy cursing her freckles to care much for them.

Her thoughts proved to nearly be her undoing, for Connie took that moment to attempt to wrest the reins from her hands, and Rebekah yelped as the mare took the opportunity to playfully bolt her way across the flat expanse between them and the Runner Station. It nearly unseated her rider, and Rebekah was forced to take about half the grassland to rein the excited runner into a steady, dignified canter, and force her to stay that way until they reached the Runner Station, Connie's hooves clopping against the dirt as she was pulled to a stop.

Windswept, Bek prayed to Faranth that no one had actually seen, before straightening her posture so she could pinpoint anyone who could be of help. She spotted a boy, about Rosie's age, and narrowed her eyes when she realised he was stifling snickers; he'd obviously seen. He wasn't in any hurry to oblige her either - lazy little git - until his eyes travelled up her frame, only to freeze when he caught sight of the Journeyman knots of one of the Harpercraft.

"Journeywoman Rebekah," Bek said in a softly dangerous tone that warned retribution if he didn't pick it up quickly, "I'm expected here to pick up my daughter."

He was far quicker on his feet then, bowing hastily before scarpering, though whether it was to alert someone to her arrival or to just run in fear, she didn't know. Shard it, she'd have to do things herself then. With a sigh, Rebekah slid off Connie, shaking her still tousled curls out of her face when she slid the hood of her protective cloak off - wonderful Igen cloak; how she loved it - and leaning against Connie as she blew out irritably.

"You'd think I was the Masterharper of Pern, come to ream the kid for some crime, Connie."

The runner mare merely snorted, as if in agreement as she peered around, eyeing the grass hopefully.
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Subtle Mystery
Unregistered

It still came as an amazement that when she looked down at her shoulder and saw teh journeywoman knots sitting there, no matter how many times she looked down to check they were still there. Still, she wished she could have contacted her parents about it, but in typical Rosie fashion, she'd forgotten exactly where Rebekah had been sent, and that was where the trouble came in. Not that she'd had much time to think about it, messages were always being run somewhere and Rosie herself was returning from one such message.

No matter how many places she ran to, she never got tired of hearing her footsteps pound on the earth, her breathing... Everything about Running that made it so wonderful. She couldn't understand some of the apprentices that complained constantly about training, Rosie herself had never been like that. Why attach yourself to a craft you didn't love? It was only torture on you and your teachers.
"Oh, Rosie, you're back. Good." Hearing the voice of her own master, Rosie came to a quick stop infront of the woman, bending to put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. It wasn't hard for someone as fit as she was.
"The message got there okay?" This was said as Rosie happily took the water skin, only to give the older woman a reproachful look at the question, making her chuckle.
"Course it did. Jalen just came running in you know-"
"I didn't know he was on a message." Rosie's voice held a strange note of annoyance when it came to the other Runner, still only an apprentice, Jalen annoyed the shards out of Rosie, he was so lazy, didn't want to improve at all.

Wiping her sweaty hands off on her shorts, Rosie looked up curiously as her master paused, a small smile twitching her own lips.
"Journeywoman Rebekah's here to see you-" Before the woman even got the rest of the sentence out, Rosie was gone. She'd thought she'd seen a runner coming in, which struck her as strange for two reasons, generally it wasn't one runner and usually not the grey coloured one she'd seen running in.

"Mama!' The usual endearment for her mother was shouted as Rosie practically pounced on her mother, never mind that she was sweaty and probably dirty from the run, instead wrapping both arms around her mother and snuggling close.
"I missed you, mummy." Indeed she had, while weyrbred, Rosie had always known who her parents were and had a strong relationship with both of them. J'han and Carenth came and visited when they could, but Rosie saw her mother far more often... Except for the last five months.
"You saw Jalen on the way in, right? He's a little snot in my opinion, such a lazy person... How was your trip, was the desert nice? DId you enjoy it? Have you seen Dad yet? Was it fun? Did you come all this way to see me? Did you miss me, mummy?"
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Sammy-hime
Unregistered

The squeal was enough to set the Journeywoman to bracing herself against the impact that would come, and much to her amusement, she felt her runner breathe out heavily and brace under her, as if some instinctual memory was triggering off her warning senses. The squeal was enough to make Bek turn though in its direction, though her green eyes widened slightly as she found herself confronted with what was, apart from some minor differences (like a taller height), a similar lanky, puppyish version of herself as an adolescent.

Those thoughts were immediately banished to the recesses of her mind though when she found herself winded by the force of Rosalind's hug, though it didn't stop her from holding her child tightly, one small hand stroking the girl's hair even as her entire being felt that surge of relief that only a mother could have at having their child safe at their breast again, unharmed and alive after any length of seperation.

"Rosie..." she whispered, so tenderly and so unlike her normal snappy, roughshod tone that it was uncanny. She certainly didn't have any reason to worry at all; her daughter was, apart from some serious growth, exactly like she'd been the day they'd parted, bright smiles, warm hugs (Bek was starting to feel an odd numbing sensation in her ribs) and endless questions. When the girl had finished her excited babble, Bek detached her gently from her body, though she didn't stop her daughter from clinging close to her side if she wished to while she picked up Connie's reins again, her familiar dryly amused smile on her face as she answered Rosie's questions.

"To answer your questions in that order - Yes, I did, so he's probably lucky it's not him I'm here to take back to the Weyr. My trip was fine, if exhausting. The desert is hot but I liked it mostly, except for the tan and the freckles it gave me. I've got a million pictures to colour from being there when we get back to Benden, and no, I haven't been back yet, and I don't know how far my reach with Carenth goes, so your father doesn't know. Yes, I did come all this way; I'm here to take you home because you're old enough to be a Candidate *if* you want to. And yes, little one, I missed you too. Terribly. You look very healthy though, which I'm glad for."

As if to agree with that observation, a blue head poked over the other side of Connie's saddle, cheeping idly in welcome when he spotted Rosie, before stiffening and screeching in surprise and affrontment as he was tossed over Connie's back by another firelizard. Picasso hissed nastily to the other blue head that popped up, and Donatello voiced a fakely apologetic cheep before he spotted Rosie, at which point he began to squeal and bugle like a child on a sugar high, nearly toppling off of Connie's saddle before he hoisted himself up with a buzz of his wings, trilling in an almost spastically excited manner as he began whizzing rapid circles around her head.
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Subtle Mystery
Unregistered

Rosie was one of those children that never really grew apart from their mothers. She'd always love her mother, and she'd never be anything but 'Mama' to Rosie. She'd always be the woman that gave her a cuddle when she hurt herself, the woman who wiped away her tears, the one who soothed her fears and made her want to try again. Rebekah would always be, very simply, Mama.

"Oh he's horrid. He's older than me, but he's so lazy he never wants to run messages, but I don't mind because it means I have more messages to run, I've seen so much since you've been gone." Prattling on as she nestled against her mother's side, Rosie was obviously relieved and happy to have her mother home. She noticed small things had changed, like her skin was darker, and the freckles that Rosie hated had appeared on her mother's skin. Bek showed all the signs of being out in the sun.

"Oh! Oh and guess what Mama!" It was less of a question rather than a beg for attention, exactly like she would have done in her younger years as she tugged lightly on her mother's hand before spinning to walk infront of her, lifting one hand to the knots at her shoulder, Rosie seemed to glow with pride as she pointed at them,
"Look! I got my knots!" Rosie was endlessly proud of them, that much was obvious, as much as she was proud of the hard work and training that she'd put in, she'd truly focused and gotten the reward.

"Oooh, Dad's going to love seeing you again, he always did like your freckles, maybe I'll get a little brother or sister. A candidate? Really? Oh wow! But girls only ride golds and I'm not exactly the most dignified, but the weyr, I bet I'd be able to run from there too! I'm super healthy, I have to be, I'm not very clean though, I only just got back, but I'm so glad to see you Mama."
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Sammy-hime
Unregistered

She was glad Rosalind was getting out and seeing the world, as she well should. It was one of the things Rebekah had taken joy in more than anything else - the sheer delight and freedom involved when you lived a Craft where you could journey for months in the wilderness, meet new people, see all kinds of things. And in her case, draw all kinds of things.

"I saw," she drawled, amused by Rosie's excitement at achieving her knots, the arched eyebrow purely teasing as her daughter bounced up and down in front of her. The pride in her emerald eyes spoke a great deal more though, beyond the teasing, and Bek would have allowed her daughter another hug had Donatello not chosen that moment to leap on the girl with excited chitters and shrill bugles. Exasperated, Bek glanced back at Picasso, who looked plainly distasteful from where he sat.

For the moment, the Artist was glad for her tan; it hid the fact that she crimsoned immediately at her daughters bubbly brained implications. It was something of a shock, really - what had happened to that innocent, ignorant little girl who had clung to her skirts and giggled as she peeked out before burying her face back in her mother's skirts as she played hide and seek with her father whenever he returned from drills. But Rosie probably wasn't that far from the truth - Bek had yet to last longer than thirteen hours after getting back from the wild with a travel hardened body before J'han had tracked her down, no doubt with the help of Carenth. And yes, she'd kept count.

Then again, they all grew up some time, and unlike herself (though she was certainly no innocent Holdbred), Rosalind was ultimately Weyrbred, so it was expected. Actually, Bek didn't mind it that much as long as no one took advantage of her child, though she had a vague, wry feeling that she would be chasing her weyrmate and his cheeky brown dragon off any potential young boys - Jon had never entirely let go of his own morals, especially when it came to their only child.

Rolling her eyes at the mention of her skin tone and freckles these days, Bek merely turned, shoving Picasso gently off the saddle and onto Connie's rump so she could gather the reins up. She snorted softly, her cheeks still speckled red under the tan as she glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm getting too old for that, so don't get your hopes up," she drawled, before turning serious and putting a hand on her hip.

"I already sent a message ahead to your Master, so she knows you're returning with me, if you want to of course. You just need to go and grab whatever you need to take with you so I can attach it to Connie, and then we can ride to Benden. We'll get there by tomorrow evening if we keep moving. And yes," she rolled her eyes playfully, "You can run alongside the runner at some point. But not *all* the way."
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Subtle Mystery
Unregistered

Laughing as the blue leapt at her, Rosie held both hands out to the little flitter, who she could have sworn was a draconic version of her sometimes. Just like Carenth was just like her father.
"Hullo Donatello." She murmured, lightly rubbing his eye ridges with one finger and crooning at him before laughing. No matter how much she loved them, Rosie knew she'd probably never be able to look after a flitter, considering she had enough trouble keeping herself looked after.

"Awh, how come? I'd like someone to play with." Complaining good naturedly, Rosalind giggled at the flush over her mother's tanned skin. Luckily, Bek's skin was like hers, the soft golden colour that didn't show blushes easily. In some ways, Rosie was all her mother's daughter, except her eyes, they were her father's. In a way, she'd be nervous to leave behind something she'd known and loved for so long, but Rosie was always eager for adventure and going back to the weyr was just one more adventure.

"I can't wait! Master didn't tell me this, but that was probably because I was Running. It wasn't actually my message, but that lazy... Yeah well, it was a good run." Grinning at her mother, Rosie turned to make her way inside, grateful even for the moment of coolness rather than the sun. She loved the outdoors, but she was hot and even a little tired, not that she'd ever let that on. There was very little she needed to take with her, only her running clothes and the few bindings for her ankles and knees when she'd gotten hurt, it was always a good idea to have them with her. Before running to her mother, she all but pounced on her Master, making the woman splutter before hugging her back,
"I'll see you again, maybe I'll come back and visit." Grinning at the woman, Rosie then turned to run back to her mother, hugging her again.
"I can run? Great! What're we waiting for then?"
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Sammy-hime
Unregistered

"You're a weyrbrat; I doubt you'll be lacking in people to bother," was the dry response as Bek swung up into the saddle with the ease of experience, easily stilling Connie's restless movements as she sat deeply. Every movement only served to highlight that limbre, dancer-like body she had retained despite her slow descent from youth, a body she had and still did silently take prize in with that odd feminine vanity.

She had been lucky to retain it after being pregnant, though she suspected her activeness and the physically strenuous nature of many of her assignments meant that it wouldn't have taken much for her body to lose the softness it had acquired in pregnancy and return to that supple but strong dancer build, with possibly the only reminded of her pregnancy with Rosalind being those faint, purple marks that still ran along the contours of her belly. Other than that, one would never guess she had been pregnant and had a child, lest her daughter stood alongside her and the person looked closely, for then, the resemblance the girl bore to her mother was uncanny, save for the fact she was rather lankier, and the dark blue eyes that must be her father's.

So no, she wasn't so sure about the idea of being pregnant again. It had been incredibly tiring for the diminutive Artist, and she had spent much of it ill, and she had a feeling that at the age she was, it'd be a lot more trying than it had been, and she doubted she'd be able to retain the physical strength she now bore if she was to become pregnant again. She doubted it anyway, for the older one got, the less likely they were to even carry a child to term; she had simply been lucky enough to have been young with her pregnancy and birth.

Rebekah waved idly in response to her daughter's Master's goodbye, silently figuring that now would be the time to let her hyperactive child run her energy out before they stopped for the night. That way, the girl would quieten down sooner, and be less likely to talk Bek's ear off when she tried to sleep. Not that she truly minded, but she much preferred getting home safely before Rosalind did talk her ear off. It was sorely tempting to tease the girl and canter on ahead, daring her to try and keep up with a horse at that speed, but she refrained from doing so, simply nudging Connie into a gentle trot that made Picasso protest and calling over shoulder,

"Well, hurry up then!"

****

Early Evening - Some Miles Between Runner Station and Benden Weyr

Thankfully, the night was warm, and a big fire wasn't massively needed. One was needed for light though, and Bek watched it idly, the flames reflecting in her emerald coloured eyes and highlighting the sharp contours of her face as she leant back against her pack, enlightening any viewer to the pensively thoughtful expression on her face as she rifled through the folder filled with her sketches...sketches of old, and the newer sketches of Igen.

She paused at the excited squeaks of delight, frowning slightly at Donatello as the slightly psychotic little blue rolled over in the dirt, obviously delighted with whatever game he was playing with Rosalind and completely ignoring his mistress's reprimanding look as he rolled to his feet, crouching low and slinking around her daughter in a comical manner somewhat reminscent to a wher stalking its prey, or, and Bek smirked, a male dragon eyeing off the pretty green or gold he had his sights set on.

Rolling her eyes, Bek paused to stroke the back of Picasso, who was stretched out on her knee and watching his clutch brother with disdain before she turned back to her sketches, pausing before smiling slightly at the boy before her, on the paper. He had caught her intrigue, make absolutely no mistake about that. So odd, so reserved, so completely removed from society seemingly of his own will, and yet, there was something in those dark green-black eyes that had immediately caught her as both artist and as a person.

So reserved looking to the world, yet those eyes held a wealth of information no matter what one did to hide it. And above all, in those dark eyes, was that glint of utter loneliness, melancholic sadness that Bek could most painfully associate with, for now and again, her own gaze transmitted something agonisingly similar. And she had tried so hard to capture that essence about him, and even now, those eyes, far too old for their ears, haunted her and sent chills down her spine as she studied the picture - the eyes, the dusty hair that she knew to be deep brown-black tousled by the desert wind, the cloak so often worn by the desert people of Igen thrown back as the boy looked out over to some unknown place of longing.

"Shino...that was your name, wasn't it?" Bek murmured, tilting her head and admiring the way the firelight caught the shadows in the image,
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Subtle Mystery
Unregistered

Donatello was by far her favourite to play with, unlike the other blue, Rosie knew this one would actually play with her, even if it was just scratching his belly like a feline or actually letting him crawl all over her. There weren't many flitters at the station and she missed them terribly, maybe she would get her own, it would make a nice change and give her something to look after that wasn't herself, maybe it would make her grow up.

Glancing over at her mother and the sketch of the quiet boy, Rosalind watched her almost curiously. There was something about the boy in the picture that caught her attention, his silence to her loud nature maybe? She'd never been around quiet people, not really, but there was also something else that made her want to talk to him, get to know him. In so many ways he reminded her of some of the people she'd met over her turns at the RUnner station, people who were so quiet but the person beneath was complicated and usually lonely.

There was just... Something about him that made her heart twist slightly, and even the well hidden loneliness peek. It was hard to find friends that understood her nature, and even rarer to find those who could handle it. The sketch was so well drawn too... Crouching behind her mother easily, Rosie couldn't help but smile as she nodded to the drawing,
"He has sad eyes... I wonder if you'll see him again." Then she flopped back onto her backside and stretched, curling up to rest her head on her mother's shoulder.
"I love you, mama."
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Sammy-hime
Unregistered

It was a good thing, really, to have Rosie back, if only because she actually occupied the mildly psychotlc nuisance that Rebekah had, by some insane chance, Impressed all those Turns back. She'd have figured age would have settled Donatello down, but no, he was as insane as ever, just as Picasso was as disdainful as ever.

Said aforementioned firelizard was happy to gambol most undignifiably after Rosie as she went to her mother's side, clambering onto Rebekah's other knee to settle around her neck, nuzzling into her curly hair even as he ignored Picasso's hissing.

Of course, in true form, Bek had become absorbed in her work, and jumped slightly when she suddenly found her child's presence so close. Blinking several times to reorient herself, the artist smiled tiredly down at her daughter as she cuddled close, shifting only to make sure Rosalind was comfortable and warm before murmuring,

"Maybe I will. You never know."
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