Portrait of Hope

Writers: Miriah, Estelle
Date Posted: 2nd September 2019

Characters: Urlene, Lorican
Description: Lorican draws a portrait and gets more than he expected.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 11, day 22 of Turn 9

Urlene

Lorican murmured the instructions that he'd been given under his breath
as he passed the infirmary and followed the corridor around to the
Weyrhealer's quarters, carrying his portfolio and drawing materials.
Despite her assurances that his visiting at this hour of the evening
would not cause any comment in the Weyr, he still didn't want to draw
attention by going to the wrong place. It seemed to him that there was
enough gossip about her already.

Fortunately, the door was easy to recognize. Lorican took a deep breath,
ran a hand through his hair, tugged his shirt straight and then knocked.

When Urlene answered the door, her hair was unbound and falling down
her back to her waist in ripples from the thick braids that she
normally bound it in. Clad in a simple, pale blue robe, she greeted
him with a smile. "You're very punctual." She stepped back to allow
him in. "Please, come in. I've set out some tea and cheese, just in
case you wanted anything."

The journeyman felt his heart beat rapidly and it took a moment for him
to find his voice. "Oh - thank you, Weyrhealer. That would be most
welcome." He'd eaten little at the evening meal, preoccupied with
thoughts of this meeting. Firmly, he told himself to focus. He was here
to practice his craft, or near enough, and he ought to remain
professional in his manner. He followed her inside and looked around
him, curious about what a female Master's quarters would be like. He'd
only ever seen the rather cluttered, dusty apartments of his Master back
at the Hall.

"I hope the rest of your shift was..." He tried to think what would
describe a successful day for a healer. 'Interesting' would perhaps not
be as desirable in her craft as his, at least for the patients.
"Satisfactory?"

"You can call me Urlene, Lorican. I'm not on duty right now." She
waved at the small table and stepped over to pour him a cup of tea.
The quarters was obviously large enough for a family, but Urlene's few
belongings made the quarters seem rather spartan in comparison. Her
quarters were very neat, and the desk nestled against a wall was
neatly arranged with several scrolls, writing implements and ink pots.
Shelves were filled with mainly healing manuscripts and few personal
items, though she did seem to have a few blown glass items that were
obviously treasured. Upon the cushion on another shelf lay a small
brown firelizard, belly obviously stuffed and hide freshly oiled. The
flit looked up at Lorican and blinked lazily at him before yawning and
laying his head back down.

"It was a very quiet and routine day, actually. The apprentices
sometimes find those days boring, but they're a relief." She gestured
to the seat next to the table and sat across from him. "Have a seat
please."

Lorican sat down, placing the drawing materials on the table beside him.
"Thank you. Well, I'm glad there weren't any bad injuries, even if it
wasn't too exciting for the apprentices." He sipped at his tea. "Have
you thought about how you'd like to be drawn? Would you like just your
head and shoulders, or a full-length portrait, like...the other one?"
Remembering that picture, he couldn't quite hide his embarrassment. "I
must admit, I'm not so used to drawing people and the close detail of a
face would be new to me. But I can try, if you want."

"Full length, please, like the other. " she paused, then cleared her
throat. If you could turn your back for a brief moment please?" She
waited, then slid off the robe and reclined on the sofa on her side.
The robe draped over her bare hips, hiding what what necessary and
proper, but revealed slim legs to the midthigh. Her hair was pulled
forward, rippling down over her chest to hide her bosom, but allowed
scant peeks from between the locks. Resting her head on her upper arm
that bent to rest her hand on her hair, the other trailed along her
side. She took a breath and knowing she was most likely going to shock
the poor man, cleared her throat. "I'm ready. "

He turned around and nearly forgot to breathe. There was such beauty in
the way the line of her body flowed, down from her shoulder to her arm
and the curve of her waist and hips, that for a moment he forgot to be
embarrassed. Then he felt the heat rising to his face, the longing and
confusion and helpless desire that he always felt in her presence rising
with more intensity than ever.

**Don't be a fool.** He was here to draw her portrait, nothing more. He
already knew she couldn't possibly have any other interest in him. Most
likely it was nothing out of the ordinary, here in the Weyr. Taking a
deep breath to calm himself, he opened the portfolio and took out a
clean sheet of paper, relieved to see that his hands remained steady.

"You look very..." He swallowed. "I hope I can do you justice." Propping
the paper against the back of the folder, he carefully began to draw the
line that had first caught his eye. "Please, tell me if you get too
tired, or want a rest. I can stop."

"Thank you." Her voice was quiet. "I was half expecting you to leave.
I know how difficult it is to face nudity coming from outside of the
Weyr. It was hard for me too, but I've gotten used to it, especially
as a Healer." She watched him as he began to work, studying his face.
She would have never allowed this view, despite being covered, to
most, but the sense she had gotten from him and his respectful
behavior to her from the moment she had met him, provided her with
confidence that he wouldn't push or be inappropriate. She was pleased
to see that so far, her instincts had been correct. "You're not like
most men here. It's refreshing."

"People are very open, here, aren't they? About who they are, what they
think. How they feel." Lorican thought of some of the interactions
between weyrfolk that he'd seen in the dining hall and at the beach. The
casual affection, the lack of shame about their bodies would have been
shocking at the Smith Hall. "I half admire them for it, but it takes
some getting used to. I'm not sure I could ever be like that." He
glanced up, smiling. "Although, I'd never have thought I'd draw
someone...this way, but here I am. Perhaps the Weyr has affected me more
than I realize."

"Very very open." She admitted. "I do, however, wish that some would
practice more restraint. Openness is fine and well, but some,
especially the young, use it as an excuse to be crude. Personally, I
prefer my privacy. It does lend to rumors, of course. But that's to be
expected." She held still, very aware that if she moved too much not
only would she expose herself, but it may cause problems with his
sketch. "Perhaps it has, or perhaps you're able to tap into other
aspects of your art that you weren't able to before. "

"It's certainly been inspirational. The dragons have beautiful shapes,
too. The way they hold their necks, the curve of their tails and the
fine bones in their wings - it makes me wonder if I could forge the same
line in metal. Even if it was just for - I don't know, a decorative
bracket or a hook, if no-one ever knew it had anything to do with a
dragon. I'd know."

Suddenly unsure, since he rarely risked speaking of his craft with such
unguarded passion, he lowered his eyes to his work. "You didn't grow up
at the Weyr, then? I had a feeling you might not have." He'd thought it
even before Wilvar had told him she was of the Blood.

"They do have lovely lines, though I don't get close to them. I don't
have the artist's eye that you do." It was common knowledge that she
didn't and had a fear of the large beasts. "But I would be able to
tell in your design, I think." She gave a minute shift to keep her arm
from cramping or going stiff. The small movement didn't serve to
expose any flesh that she didn't want to show.

"No," she continued, "I didn't. My family is related to the Lord
Holder of Sapphire Meadows, but not of any station that would ever be
likely to inherit." Her shoulder's moved in a very slight shrug. "It
is of no matter here and my lineage no longer means much to me. I
discarded it when I came here."

"Oh." He didn't press the subject, aware it must be difficult. Leaving
family behind was hard, even in ordinary circumstances, and to give up
her rank and go to a place where she could hardly have known anyone,
where the customs were so different - he couldn't imagine it. Instead,
he sought a more cheerful topic. "Is that when you became a healer? When
you came here?"

"Yes, it was. I'd always been interested in it and when I was a child,
the Healer near our home was very kind and didn't mind teaching a
curious little girl when her parents weren't watching." Urlene smiled
at the memory, then focused on Lorican. "I spoke to a Master Healer
the day I arrived and began studying the next." She tilted her head at
him. "What about yourself? A wife, or other family besides the brother
that you mentioned?"

"Uh, no. No wife," Lorican admitted, lowering his gaze to the paper to
hide his embarrassment. "There's my stepmother, my brother's mother, and
I have an uncle who used to be in the guards at Garnet Valley. They're
the only family I have, really, unless you count my fellow Crafters."

He finished outlining her body and glanced up, wondering how he should
draw her hair. When it had been wet from the pool, he'd been able to
sketch it in with a few sweeping lines, but now it lay in soft waves
over her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. How could he show its
fine texture? He began to experiment with a few ideas in the corner of
the paper.

"Really?" Her brows rose. "So no woman you've got an eye on? That's
surprising." She then blinked and one brow rose higher. "Or...a man
perhaps?" It was possible, she mused, he certainly was taking her
nudity in stride and his embarrassment could be from the differences
between Hold and Hall beliefs and the Weyr's. "There's no shame in
that, you realize. Not here or at the new Weyrhold, I'm sure."

Lorican was so startled that he fumbled the line he was drawing and
nearly dropped his pencil. "No! I mean, I'm not interested in
men...not like that." It still seemed so strange to him, that
behaviour that would have risked disgrace or even expulsion at his
craft's Hall was accepted here. "Sorry. I don't mean to suggest that
there's anything wrong with it," he added hastily, remembering what
he'd heard about her own preferences. "I suppose I've always been too
busy with my craft work for marriage. And, you know, most women my age
are already married, at least at the Smith Hall."

Urlene couldn't help it, her lips quivered with mirth at his instant
reaction before a soft laugh burst out. "Sorry...I just thought that
maybe..." She struggled to keep the smile off of her face, but
couldn't erase the humor in her eyes. She held up a hand to both still
and reassure him. "It's okay. I just wasn't sure. Sometimes here, it's
best to ask that question." She settled back, then readjusted her hair
when she noticed that she had revealed more of her bosom that he might
be comfortable with. "I can understand being too busy to pursue any
serious romantic attachment. My craft has been my focus since I
arrived here. Perhaps now that I've attained my goal, I might look to
doing so, but..." She gave an elegant shrug. "perhaps not."

At first he was too distracted by berating himself for responding like
an ignorant Hold-bred yokel to take in what she'd said, but then he
realised and stared at her, confused. No serious attachment? "But... I
thought you were..."

Both of Urlene's brows rose at his stumbling reply. "You thought I was
what?" She blinked, then sighed softly. She could well guess what
he'd heard. She found herself annoyed, not at Lorican, but at whoever
had shared rumors with him. "Let me guess... you heard rumors about
myself and our Headwoman?" She shifted her weight. "Chaysea is indeed
very lovely and a good person. However, she and I are good friends,
nothing more. Rumors here abound, just as much as in Hall or Hold."

"Then you're not...like a male greenrider?" The words were out before
Lorican could think better of them. His eyes went wide with dismay as
he realised how that sounded. "Oh, shells, please ignore me. I'm so
sorry. It's none of my business." He stared at the paper, trying to
remember what he'd been working on.

Her eyes studied him before she answered. "No, I'm not. I do like men
and find them attractive. " She saw no need to tell him that she was
attracted to both. Being attracted didn't mean she'd acted upon that
attraction, and like he'd said, it wasn't his business. But she
sought to ease his embarrassment as she continued. "It's alright. I'm
not surprised, actually. That rumor is rather popular from what I
understand. Especially with younger men and riders."

"I shouldn't listened, though. You're absolutely right, it's better to
ask." Now he knew the truth, he realised what an idiot he'd been. Why
had he believed that apprentice? He'd also said that Urlene was cold,
when she was clearly anything but. Lorican lowered his eyes to his
work, troubled by a confusing mixture of emotions: shame that he'd
believed the rumor, annoyance on her behalf, that she had to endure
such sordid gossip, and, deep down, a tiny, warm flame of hope. She
was attracted to men, after all!

True, it was a long way from liking men to liking this one particular
man; she was still a Master, a lady of the Blood and so beautiful and
talented that she would surely draw the attention of far better men
than him; worst, he recalled with a sinking feeling, he was due to
take up a new post, hundreds of miles from here. Perhaps he'd never
see her again. If his chances had improved at all, it was from
impossible to merely improbable.

He half-smiled at his own folly, then realised she was still looking
at him. "Oh - sorry. I just... worked out how I can draw your hair."
And he had, he realised. Something about the way the light had caught
it as she moved... He began to sketch it in with swift lines.

"Hopefully over my breasts," Urlene quipped lightly. "I've done my
best to keep them covered for you." Her eyes remained on him, studying
his flushes, his half-smiles, and his concentration. He was, she
decided, handsome and healthy. Certainly resilient. She did indeed
like him and the air of gentleness around him. "It's a pity you're
leaving, Lorican. I'd have very much liked to get to know you better.
I have few close friends, I think you might have been one if you'd
decided to stay."

Lorican's hand stilled on the page and he looked up, for a moment
unable to hide his consternation. He could have requested to be posted
to Dolphin Cove; true, there were no guarantees, not for a journeyman,
but he thought he'd have had the support of the forge master. But he
hadn't. He'd asked to be sent elsewhere. If only he hadn't been so
unbelievably stupid as to trust that rumor! Could he change his mind
and ask to stay? But how could he? The Master at the Weyrhold would be
expecting him in a few days. He tried to imagine how Urlene herself
would react if a journeyman healer let her down like that, and winced.
There was no way to stay without losing her respect, and then what
would be the point?

"I'm sorry. I would have liked that, too," he said quietly. Looking
down at the pencil in his hand, an idea suddenly came to him. Did he
dare? He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, even in the Weyr. He took
a deep breath.

"If you would permit it, I could write to you." He spoke tentatively,
knowing that in the Hold and Hall, a proper young woman should not
receive letters from a man unless he was a relative or an approved
suitor. "There's bound to be a lot happening, with a new Weyrhold
opening. I thought maybe, you'd be interested..."

The request gave Urlene pause and she didn't answer immediately. Her
mind followed similar paths to his own, but she was hardly a young
girl in need of her parent's permission. She'd grown far past that and
her parents no longer acknowledged her existence even if she hadn't.
Was he tentatively asking to court her? The thought and his hesitation
warmed her, with her marriage arranged so early, she'd never
experienced the sweetness of courtship that so many of her childhood
friends had. The thought also brought on a touch of regret. She was
hardly a marriageable prospect, especially being divorced and unable
to bear children. To encourage any courting would be a great
disservice to him. If she didn't have that history and deficiency,
she would have accepted the request instantly. But... she decided, she
shouldn't assume and she couldn't bring herself to reject his request.
Besides, more likely he'd find a match at the Weyrhold that would
catch his interest far more than a distant woman.

"I think I would like that, Lorican." Her eyes never left him as she
mused about another idea that crept into her mind. "When are you
expected to leave?"

"They've asked me to come as soon as I'm clear to go between." There
was a light in his eyes now that hadn't been there before. Even if he
had to go, he wouldn't lose her altogether, and that was something. He
smiled. "So I suppose it's up to you, Weyrhealer."

She was so tempted to keep him longer, but could not break her own
standards of behavior, despite that little niggling in the back of her
mind. "Three days then. You'll be clear in three days." She tapped her
fingers against her side, warring ideas playing about in her mind.
Why shouldn't she? Men did so, why couldn't she? Urlene then decided
to speak her thoughts. "Spend them with me."

Brown eyes went wide with surprise and sudden, wondering joy. "You
mean - but I'm just a..." Lorican stopped himself, deciding, too, not
to question her. She wouldn't have asked if she hadn't meant it. "I'd
love to. I'd spend all the time I have left here with you, if you
could spare it...wait, don't move..." His gaze turned to the drawing
again for the last time, sketching in her features just as she looked
then, in that moment. "There. It's done. At least, until I copy it in
ink. Come and see if you like it?"

**Just a what?** The evident joy in his eyes stilled her curiosity and
warmth blossomed in her belly at his expression; she had thought he'd
be shocked, not amazed by the offer. "Well, perhaps we can have dinner
tomorrow evening then. On the beach? I do have my duties during the
day and have to be available in case of emergencies, but what time I
have I'd like to share with you."

At Lorican's offer, Urlene sat up carefully, tucked the robe around
her waist and waited until he was looking down to rise and quickly
cover herself once again. Sitting beside him on the couch, she peered
at the drawing and her eyes softened and she breathed out softly. "Oh,
Lorican...it's perfect." The lines were simple, delicate, and she
looked as though she was far more alluring than she'd ever felt. She
looked enticing and innocent all at once. How had he managed to get
that on paper?

"Thank you. Though I'm not sure how I'll bring myself to let it go,"
he said, a teasing note in his voice. His heart lifted with relief
that she'd liked it. "If you're happy with it then I'll finish it in
ink and... I can bring it to your rooms tomorrow, before dinner?"

Her return smile was warm. "Make a copy for yourself, if you like,
Lorican. It'll give you something to remember me by after you leave."
She pushed her hair away from her face with a idle gesture, unused to
having it uncoiled from her usual braids. "I'll be here. Dinner at
sunset?"

"Dinner at sunset," Lorican repeated, as if he had to hear it again to
be certain he hadn't imagined it. The way she'd pushed back her hair
made him think of another idea for a portrait. He'd have to take care
or he'd not be able to draw anything else, he thought with inward
amusement.
He gathered his portfolio and pencils. "Well, goodnight...Urlene."

She rose, moving out of his way so he could gather the rest of his
things."Good night, Lorican."

Lorican left her quarters, not without a final backwards glance. His heart was beating fast and he felt as though he was floating on air, like a young lad who'd asked a girl to the Gather and been accepted. **Dinner at sunset...on the beach...and she wants to spend time with me!**

Last updated on the September 9th 2019

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Portrait of Hope