In the Middle (1/2)
Dragonsfall Weyr
Amber Hills Hold
Vintner Hall
Healer Hall
Hidden Meadows
Dolphin Cove Weyr
Dolphin Hall
Emerald Falls Hold
Harper Hall
Printer Hall
Green Valley Hold
Leeward Lagoon Hold
Barrier Lake Weyr
Sunstone Seahold
Citrus Bay Hold
Writers: Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 22nd June 2025
Characters: R'fayne, O'rosin
Description: A trip to Sunstone Seahold leads to some great deals and discoveries
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 7, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: R’lor
Evening at Dolphin Cove meant midday at Sunstone Seahold, and O'rosin was using that extra time to haggle with a shopkeep over bolts of fabric and sewing kits. He left the stall and returned to R'fayne was, two parcels tucked under one arm and looking uncharacteristically pleased with himself.
“She thought she was going to pull a fast one over me." O'rosin said, victorious. "Walked away with half the cost and she gave me a spool of ribbon besides."
“Impressive. We should find a jewellery stand and see what you can talk them out of next.” R'fayne said as he turned away from the stall where he'd been inspecting the glassware. Though he was unswayed by the crafter and only paying cursory interest to their selection, his interest did shift curiously to the spoils in O’rosin’s hands. “You thinking about taking up sewing in your free time now?”
"I don't have the marks to even look at a jewelry stand. But if I did I bet I could talk them out of something _nice_." O'rosin answered cheerily. "Nah, it's for my ma. There's always clothes to be mended, though she's got kids ripping their knees out of their pants and new growing grandbabies. I dunno if she has a need for the ribbon, but maybe my little sisters can use it for their gather dresses."
R’fayne glanced at the bundles in O’rosin’s arms again, trying to imagine how far that would stretch, how often that sort of package was needed versus how often it was safely delivered. It was no small amount of fabric. It was more than just what mending holes in knees and elbows would take. As they walked for a few moments, R’fayne had an inkling that before O’rosin started doing extra errands there were more holes than material, or marks, to fill it. “Does your ma make everyone’s clothes?”
"Not everyone's, but she controls the fabric chest." O'rosin said with a grin. "She probably just makes Da's clothes now, and the littles. She has daughters-in-law to do the rest. We all learned how to do our own mending. Obric used to complain about it, but getting Aeoluth's straps ready ended up being the only thing I was good at in weyrling training."
“That’s not true. You sure made R’lor sweat.” R’fayne’s grin slanted a little -- closer to a smirk from the side.
Mid-day heat drifted lazily around them, shadows stretching long between buildings and market stalls, wagons loaded with wares from all over the Continents; mothers calling to their charges; shopkeeps beckoning anyone and everyone in. A Hold was a Hold, as far as R’fayne was concerned, and this one was enough like Emerald Falls to have his mind drifting like the restless avians overhead.
Eventually he said, “We have very different mothers.” His never sat down under low light to darn socks or trace out dress patterns. No patient instructions, no clothing to craft with care, or coordinating the chaos of too many siblings into too small a space. He’d learned other things, and most of it was what to avoid around her. “It’s kind of you - helping her.” R’fayne added, “Helping them.”
O'rosin shrugged. "It's something sorta easy I can do. At least once I got the hang of it." He still wasn't sure he did-- his stomach still flipped when Aeoluth took off and trips /between/ still made his heart race-- "And it'd feel wrong if I visited looking like this and didn't bring anything." He raised an arm slightly, trying to gesture to the quality leather riding jacket he wore. Nobody had anything nearly like this at home.
“Hm, yes, I can imagine there’s quite a disparity even without the dragons.” R’fayne said mildly, though the gesture momentarily brought focus not just to the jacket, but how well O’rosin filled it out. The brownrider was a far cry from where he’d started at the Weyr. He looked far more like the people R’fayne grew up with than holdfolk these days.
Their boots echoing smartly on the cobblestone, R’fayne felt a pull in his stomach and glanced at a stall lined with intricate leatherwork, adding, “We have very different families. I don’t think mine have ever come back from anywhere with bundles like that. No need to, I suppose. Maybe a birthingday.” He paused, quickly dismissed the work on display, and then continued, “Although when C’gai finally weyrmated they did chip in on some plaque together. Something fancy commissioned from up the North.”
"The Weyr's got the tithes. A plaque does sound nice, though." O'rosin said, though he had no idea what that was. "We never really did birthingdays or anything, but we'd try to do something nice for Turn's End. Hmm. Maybe I can get my sisters new dresses this turn." He continued thoughtfully. Surely that wouldn't be too difficult, especially if he could commission a weaver at the Weyr. He'd have to ask about it when they got back.
“Well, if you need a female opinion, I can ask Kalayne what’s in this season.” R’fayne offered. She was the most fashion-forward, and least combative of his sisters, though really any of their opinions would probably be fine. He and Kalayne had always been close. “You really never got anything for your birthingday?” He echoed in a low, curious voice, careful to keep judgment out of the picture.
"Oh, I'd like that." O'rosin said thankfully. He paused for a moment then, considering both the question and the booth nearby with a display of specialty soaps. "Nah, it's what turn's end is for. Turn's Beginning means one turn older, right? I don't know my birthing day. The harpers at the Weyr picked the date for me when they added me to their records.”
R’fayne had already flashed a polite smile to the young ladies quietly chatting behind the booth -- out of habit, not intent -- but O’rosin’s words stopped him in his tracks. Not much shocked him at this point, but that had. Only a minute shift in his stance betrayed him. His mind was helpless against the guilt and concern and confusion sweeping up inside him, and he very nearly grabbed the brownrider by the shoulders and spun him around and demanded he repeat that. Ask why it came so easily.
His eyes dropped to the selection of soaps, earthy scents and bright wrappers blurring in his senses. In the part of his brain still able to think, he supposed one didn’t miss something that they’d never had. The limitations of a small cothold and many mouths must have made it necessary. But it clashed with everything he knew growing up; celebrations, gift-giving, being seen. Feeling special.
“Come on,” R’fayne said softly, fingers brushing along the brownrider’s forearm to the elbow, “Let’s get a drink.”
Last updated on the June 22nd 2025