Delicate Matters

Writers: Miriah, Suzee
Date Posted: 1st February 2019

Characters: Yriadha, Sophque
Description: Sophque and Yriadha discuss personal matters.
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 9, day 6 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: Bryvin, Xeladrie, Devren

Yriadha

Sophque

"No you don't." Yriadha scooped up the crawling child before he could
reach the fire ashes once again, then set him down among his toys.
Again. "The boy is stubborn. He wants the ashes and nothing will deter
him." Despite being frustrated, there was a hint of a proud smile on
her expression. Stubborn. Like his father. She waggled a plush toy
towards her son and thankfully caught his attention. He babbled
furiously at the stuffed canine and promptly stuck it in his mouth,
allowing his mother to find her seat again. "I had forgotten how much
work they are at this age."

"Oh I know," Sophque chuckled. "I finally get to sleep at night even
if her feet seem to find my face at some point. I really have to find
a way to get her into her own bed sometime soon." She watched the boy
with them for a moment before her soft smile turned back to her
friend. "We've been friends a long time Yriadha..."

Yriadha's brows rose and she nodded, even as she kept an eye on her
son. "Yes, we have."

"So when are you going to tell me how you feel about his father," she
asked mildly.

She should have expected the question, but actually having it posed to
her rattled Yriadha for a moment. She took a breath, her eyes moving
to her friend as she considered her answer. She had told Bryvin she
would not name him as the father and so she could not. As it was, the
story of a cousin dying in childbirth had been accepted in the Hold.
Only her friend, her only friend, and her daughter knew the truth of
her son besides Bryvin. "I can not say much, Sophque. It is a delicate
matter." She paused, considering her words very carefully. "One you
that you can most likely understand."

Sophque's face didn't change but her mind whirred like a vtol's wings.
"I see," she said slowly and she believed she _did_ see. Her brows
knit slightly and she lifted her chin. "But do you care for him?"

She thought about all she'd heard about Lady Xeladrie and the young
woman who was the Lord's acknowledged mistress. She was only glad she
didn't seem to be noticed by this new Lord.

Brows shot up at the question and a humorless, almost bitter smile
twisted her lips.
"I am not in love with him, no. Nor does he love me. It is more of an
arrangement of…need. Our son was very unexpected. I thought myself too
old to bear another child." She looked over at her child and a very
clear look of love flicked over her face. "But I do not regret it."

"I'm glad to hear it," she nodded. "I understand how you feel and you
understand how I feel." She took a deep breath and changed the
subject. "I told you I'd been seeing Devren the fabric merchant," she
said. "We're getting closer," she added with a smile. "I just don't
think I can tell him who Sophque's father was. At some point, he's
going to do the math and realize Inokin couldn't have been her
father."

Yriadha nodded slowly. "Do you think it will matter to him?"

"It will matter if I don't have a plausible answer for him. But I
don't want to lie and I promised Morin I'd never tell." She shrugged.
"It's impossible."

Yriadha decided to speak plainly. "Yes, but Morin is dead, Sophque. It
isn't impossible." She frowned. "Are you willing to risk your possible
happiness for a promise made to a dead man?"

"Yes," Sophque nodded slowly. "I've always told myself I would." Then
she took a deep breath. "But if Devren is half the man I think he is,
I can trust him with the secret." She looked at the head woman and smiled.
"You are always so very practical."

"Let him ask first." Yriadha countered. "Don't offer it until he asks.
Don't make it an issue unless it's necessary." She sighed as Yavin
began crawling towards the hearth once again towards the ashes. She
stood and scooped him up, returning to her seat while she settled him
on her lap. Immediately, he began yowling, burying his head in her
breast. "Greedy." She rearranged her gown and he began to nurse,
wiggling close. "Yes. Practical. I have to be, don't I?" She cradled
the child and patted him as he fed.

"Don't we all?" Sophque referred to their sex. While it wasn't so for
women at the Weyr, Women in the hold had to be much more practical in
their lives. Men ran the Hold after all.

Last updated on the February 28th 2019

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Delicate Matters