Logs:Bloods & Bastards
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| RL Date: 5 September, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, X'vin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: This is the start of a beautiful friendship. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Seriously. A beautiful friendship: See?? |
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>---< Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr >-----------------------------------------<
Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently
built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed
human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and
numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along
with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up
against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the
back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical
patients.
About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on
duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their
shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars,
and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along
with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Drex M 19 6'2 muscled, black hair, brown eyes 5s
X'vin M 32 6'3" muscular, black hair, dk brown eyes 0s It isn't the first flight at High Reaches that ends up with several participants in the infirmary, after. The infirmary staff don't seem that surprised, and they have moderate amounts of alcohol prepared while they treat their patients. Drex shuffles in, using -- of all things -- Farideh's robe to stem the blood from his nose, pointed towards a cot, dutifully shuffling in that direction while he waits for attention. That X'vin's eyes are still unfocused seems to be a cause for minor concern when he is nudged in through the infirmary from the dragon side, where a glimpse of an agitated bronze might be witnessed, in brief. The healers don't particularly care; they grab X'vin and guide him unwittingly towards a cot, the one right next to Drex, and tell him to stay put. "You probably have a concussion, don't go to sleep," is the order, and X'vin nods, shoving the heel of his hand into his eye as if it might help stop the throbbing. Drex, frankly, looks miserable, between the broken nose and the bleeding and his girl getting fucked by some idiot bronzerider. And oh, here's X'vin, to boot. Drinking is particularly difficult, in between trying to keep his head tilted back, but manages, with a slosh of his bottle. After a long, considering moment, watching X'vin, the sailor leans across the distance between the cots, offering the bottle with one hand. Likely X'vin shouldn't drink; it's not good for brain injuries, or something, but he takes it anyways with an appreciative grunt, and it's easier for him since his nose is magically intact. A long swallow, then he passes it back with another grunt. Slowly, "I hear you're supposed to lean forward," with a nod to Drex's nose. "Otherwise you swallow blood and it'll make you sick." Drex takes the bottle back, wordlessly, acknowledging that grunt with a little tip of his head. Surprise flickers across his features at X'vin's words, and he shifts on the cot, leaning forward, pressing that robe against his nose still. "No thit?" with a certain about of surprise. "Been doing it wrong this whole time? Guess I thouldn't lithsen to thailors, eh?" he chuckles, but it's brief and not entirely humorous. He takes a contemplative gulp of the bottle, and sets it on the small stand between the cots, in easy reach of both of them. "Sailors are not known for their educations," X'vin notes gently, leaning forward himself with elbows on his knees and his temples between his palms. "Broke my nose on the stairs as a kid, once. The healer made it sound like I was going to die if I tilted my head back, so I never did. Surprised they didn't tell you so." Then again, maybe not, since nearly everyone from the guest weyr is here now. Go figure. "Lucky shot," must be said, but not without some admiration, then, "She's your girl, huh?" For a moment, Drex's eyes narrow, as if trying to determine whether X'vin's words are intended as an insult or not, but perhaps the gentle tone sways him otherwise. He grunts, in probably sympathy, for the stair/kid story. "Aint usually near a proper healer to get... poked at," he says, only a little defensively. It's the latter that makes him grin, all of a sudden. "Aye. And yours," with a gesture at his nose, equally admiring. "Think so. Was. Until she's been all... over everyone," he admits, with a grudging, ill-pleased grunt. "Aint sure, now." "Trader?" hazards the Fortian rider, and actually sounds somewhat interested in the answer. "Regardless, you're in a weyr now. One of them should have told you not to do that. You'll throw up, that's the last thing you need right now." He reaches for the bottle with a chuckle, another drink and a sullen glare back at one of the healers who walks by with a 'tsk' at them. "Just a flight, kid. She's still your girl. The dragons do what they need to. It stops meaning anything." "Thailor," Drex says, with that preemptively defensive tone of one who is used to the inevitable 'we don't get many of them around here' responses. He, too, gives the passing healer a look that is closer to a scowl on his part. He pulls the robe away from his nose briefly, judges that the bleeding hasn't indeed stopped, and puts it back in place. X'vin's words aren't particularly reassuring. "Don't mean just the flight. Before, too. Kicked me out for some bronzerider." "Sailor. Trader, just water. My father never let us on the boats. Was too worried about one of us drowning, like he didn't have enough sons to take over, and he's still alive. No need for a boat now, with a dragon." His eyes drift closed, and his torso sways at once, like he's a little dizzy; he cracks an eye open and it stops. "Yesterday?" he asks, sounding amused. "Or before that?" Judging by the slight narrowing of eyes, Drex doesn't much like that comparison. Although the squinting is apparently a little painful, giving the sharp exhale that quickly follows. "What, you some kind of," he waves his hand airily, in what is probably nothing like a universal sign for Blood, if there were such a thing. "Yeth. Yethterday. And probably before that, too." He doesn't understand the source of the amusement, but while X'vin is struggling with dizziness, he reaches for the bottle, taking a generous gulp. A silence settles, half because X'vin is thinking - or maybe dozing, he's suddenly very tired - and half because the healers finally come with ice wrapped in towels, one for each of them and several to go to others. "Yes," X'vin says blandly, with delicate application of the ice to where a bruise and goose-egg are forming. "Was. Can't really be both when you Impress, but some of it sticks." But the confirmation of the time frame has him laughing again, with winces of pain under the amusement. "Guilty. I take responsibility." It's with a visible sort of relief that Drex accepts the ice pack, applying it to his nose and over one eye with a wince. The robe is kept pooled in his lap. With his head angled down, it doesn't quite hide the grimace that forms at the admission of Blood status from the bronzerider. "Aint much good ever come from them that I've ever experienced. Thuppose Devaki's treated us all right, but only because he likes Itsy." Which leads into the second admission, during which Drex stares at him blankly for a moment, before a growl escapes him, and he makes to stand up, sways, and sits back down again. "If we both weren't half dead I'd kick your arthh again," he growls. "It's not all bad," X'vin says, his head tilting. "Maybe they're different down here. In Fort - well. Fort's not perfect either, is it? Igen is better. Benden." He tilts his head, considering. "No leadership is perfect anywhere, though. Nothing to be done for it. It's about character. Don't steal from them and there's no problems." X'vin doesn't seem quite ready to take another hit, but is resigned to it, which makes it all the better when Drex sways and sits. "You won. You defended her honor. It was just because of Roszadyth. If I'd known --" beat. "Well, I still would have done it. But I won't now. Not between flights. Not if she's your girl." Nearly fainting doesn't really do wonders for one's reputation as a hardened pirate. Drex is silent, teeth gritted, until that last, anyway. His eyes narrow briefly, but the expression fades at X'vin's final words. "Good." And, a little more grudgingly, after a moment, "Thanks." He shifts the ice around a little, exhaling. He doesn't comment on leadership, especially of Bloods, which probably indicates how much worth he credits that particular topic with. After a moment of contemplation: "Can I buy you a beer later? Want to... learn about all this," his vague gesture might indicate flights, or him specifically, or anything really. "Aint really my thing, weyrs, dragons, all of it." X'vin takes a deep breath, leaning back with some difficulty until he's flat on his cot, staring at the ceiling with the eye not covered in part by his ice pack. He's not supposed to go to sleep, but he might; he wants to, the way his eyes keep fluttering closed. "We're not bastards for the sake of it," X'vin says quietly, of either Bloods or bronzeriders. "Not all of us. Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes it doesn't have to." He sighs, sounding wistful. "She is a catch. Should have kept her when I caught her the first time." He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, thoughtful, then, "Sure. If you'll teach me some of your sailing swears. That was...remarkable." And one corner of his mouth quirks into a little smile. "Could've fooled me," Drex can't help but mutter, likely as much given what he just experienced as anything. "The first time?" He straightens, leaning forward but not quite making off his cot, hastily moving to grab Farideh's now blood-soaked robe before it slips off his lap. "When?" After a moment, grudgingly, "...deal. You mangled, canine-hearted maggot-pie." It's said, at least, half-heartedly, rather than visciously. "Believe what you want," is all X'vin has for that. He's dismissive about the rest. "At a party in Igen, turns ago. Four. Five? I don't remember." His math skills were knocked out of his head. "She surprised me, but I figured she'd be married off, and nobody gives their daughters to bronzeriders willingly. Bastards, he repeats, with a laugh. "Didn't think I'd see her again, least of all here." After a moment, Drex's brow clears, at least as far as the when is concerned. He starts to shake his head, and immediately regrets it if the sharp intake of breath that follows is any judge. He does, however, seem very interested in Farideh's Life Before Drex. "Why the fuck would she be married off? She was a laundress, she could do whatever she wanted. Go wherever she wanted." "A laundress! Is that what she did to get here? I didn't think she'd lift a pretty finger to do an ounce of work. Well, that didn't involve --" He cuts himself off from being terribly crude, with a snicker. "What's your name?" he says instead, seeming to realize he's missed a critical part of all these arrangements. Shame on him. And all the better to stall, ever helpful. X'vin's disbelief just seems to fuel Drex's confusion. "Drex," he finally supplies, after which he stretches over for the bottle again, expectant gaze still on the bronzerider. "X'vin," in kind, then, "She's no laundress. Maybe she was when you met her, but that's not what she is. You don't think it's strange, that gold of hers?" He removes his ice, all the better to look at Drex directly, lifting his head from the cot slightly to do it. "She's Blood, kid. Igen. Better reconsider how you feel about that group, and quick." "Don't have to be Blood to get a dragon. Any idiot can do it," Drex gestures, vaguely." When X'vin lifts his head to speak, the sailor lets out a snort of disbelief. "No she aint. You don't know shit about her. Her family's just..." well, he's never met them, being decidedly absent when they last visited, and that makes him frown, as he lowers the bottle. "They brought a lot of trunks. But she would've told me." "No," concedes X'vin graciously, "but it can help. I think, if we could trace it back, most girls who get them are Blood. There's something there." He's watching Drex's reactions evenly, and when he's satisfied, or too tired to hold his head up while it spins madly on, he puts it back down on the cot and replaces his ice. "I know. She suggested I didn't belong at her party, until I told her who I was." Drex doesn't much try to hide his reaction, going from disbelief to suspicion, to a tightening of jaw. "Don't matter none, not now," he says, dismissively, even though his hard-set expression suggests otherwise. Taking another deep gulp from the bottle, he sets it down with a thunk, half turning away from X'vin. "Not really. Like I said, you're not really Blood anymore later, not after a dragon gets you." Both of X'vin's eyes drift closed, and he doesn't sound critical when he continues. "I'd say she likes you quite a bit, Drex, if she didn't tell you. You have your feelings about Blood, and she would rather be with you than be what she was born. I wouldn't take it personally. Girls keep their secrets." There's a long silence from Drex, his expression passing unnoticed with the bronzerider's eyes closed. Finally, he comments on the notion of girl's secrets, with an exhale: "Fuck, don't they just?" And then, more distantly: "Eh, you? Yeah, you. He aint supposed to sleep, come... do whatever you need to." Yes, he just sicked a healer on the bronzerider, and in the meantime he'll sit there, brooding and bleeding until it's his turn to be looked at. It's likely good that Drex calls the healers, because it does seem that X'vin is falling asleep rather quickly now; call it a combination of things on top of the probable concussion. He's scowly at Drex when he's roused, scowly at the healer too, but at least fully attentive to their poking and prodding. He'll leave Drex to his thoughts, until they move on to the sailor with a few brief parting instructions. "Drex," he says as he pulls himself off the cot. Drex acknowledges X'vin's parting call of his name, or tries to, with a tip of his head, until the healer tsks at him very aggressively, and his mouth thins, hands pressed together as he stays still. Eyes track the bronzerider, not uncurious, but not entirely thrilled either. "Don't be too hard on her." That's for all Drex tries to acknowledge his name, and then X'vin his leaving him to all those ministrations for the better, steadier on his feet for the time off them as he makes his way out through the dragon infirmary. He gets a grunt in turn from the sailor. Not a promise. Maybe a fuck you. Who can tell! |
Contents
Comments
N'rov (08:48, 6 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Good times. I'm looking forward to the tutoring.
(Girls? Secrets? Never.)
Jo (09:05, 6 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
I would to see what Farideh thinks of her beau shipping with her twice-time lover. Bromance-style!
Squishy (09:10, 7 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
As Jo said, the the start of a beautiful bromance.
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