Logs:Bucket of Horrors
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| RL Date: 7 May, 2013 |
| Who: I'zech, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: I'zech wants to know why Telavi is missing drills. Wait, no he doesn't. |
| Where: View to a Kill Weyr, High Reaches |
| When: Day 20, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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| Is I'zech sent to check in on the missing weyrling? Does he volunteer? Was it his own idea or just another way for the rest of the weyrlingmasters to saddle him with an inconvenient duty? Only people who actually show up to their weyrling lessons get to know things like that. Rojeth could send a warning on ahead but there's only a touch of clamminess laced out for Solith's breezes, no further explanation before the bronze sweeps onto her ledge, all craggy teeth and stalking quiet. As soon as I'zech is on his feet, Rojeth takes off again and his rider just wanders right on in, unafraid of whatever plague Telavi supposedly has. He should probably call out or something, on the off chance that Solith doesn't give her a heads up, but he doesn't bother. He arrives quickly, he departs quickly, Solith lifts one sleepy eye only to shut it again. She's curled up, out of the way, making the most of the sunshine. Tela's curled up too, a lump under the covers, nowhere near the sunshine. It's dark. There's no rioting 'Ha ha, fooled him, sorry. This time, anyway! In truth, I'zech's first assumption is that Telavi isn't here at all. That C'wlin and Solith are conspiring in some great ruse to let her slip away for some clandestine reason. He stands there without seeing her, without recognizing that the bundle in the bed is actually a person. He's about to turn back to the ledge when he realizes that she really is the lump. He puts a hand on what he probably assumes is her shoulder. And whether it's because this is potentially a very quick visit, or because it's just his way, Rojeth doesn't feel far, some lingering mist or a faint aftertaste of swamp water to stay with Solith while she dozes so easily in her sunshine. The air can't help but seem fresher around Solith in her sleep, even with that drift of mist. Solith doesn't push it away, just wriggles her narrow muzzle against her paws in a way that ripples muscle from head to tail until it's worked all the way down and she goes still again. Tela doesn't move much more, though yes, that is her shoulder. Her eyes open, hazily, but if the hand's not moving... maybe she imagined it? Ah, just enough movement to be sure it really is a shoulder and not her head that he's got his hand on. That's important information, really, since I'zech lets his weight sink more firmly into that hand, and that would be pretty rude on her head, even by his standards. Plus now he can see hair and the glance of her eyes off in a direction that doesn't include him. "I don't hear coughing. The room doesn't stink like you're losing it from both ends." Lovely. "And Solith is out there having herself some nice sunshiney dreams like she doesn't have a care in the world." His hand tightens on her shoulder to rock her back and forth. "So let's hear it." The excuse. There should be some reason why Tela isn't squirming past I'zech's hand and leaping out of bed or, at the very least, biting his face off, too. Some reason other than how, at first, the added pressure might just feel like more comforting covers. "...What?" It's drifty, just like Solith for once. That doesn't last long. Her braided hair's in her eyes, but she twitches her head to get it at least a little out of her face and twists her neck to look up at him. Or try, because there's that rocking. "Stop that." Her voice is gravelly, like she hasn't used it for awhile now, even if it hasn't been all that long since C'wlin left. "Makes my head hurt. Shells." And then something coarser, as well as not so anatomically possible, involving I'zech's father. Apparently she does know it's him. "You first." That's for anatomical impossibilities. And, of course, I'zech just jerks her shoulder around a little more soundly, more roughly, but he stops after that to stare down impassively at her. "I don't want to stand here all day," he tells her, sounding like he's already bored by the guessing game. "What's going on. And why is C'wlin running around as your message boy?" Which just pisses her off, that shaking, not that Telavi's likely to have invited I'zech to sit at the best of times. Moving to thrust off his hand even before he stops, she twists to sit up with an actual wince, scooting higher in the bed with the covers so she can keep the solid wood of its headboard to her back. Her face must itch, given the tearstains, but she wears them like warpaint. "I promised I'd sing him a song, and he was just so into that, he let me off." She rolls her eyes. "You know harpers." Teary-faced. I'zech looks at her without those streaks inspiring any soft sympathies. Instead, he gives a snotty expression for her explanation about C'wlin and the roll of her eyes. "Listen, if you're just having a wah-wah, woe-is-me day, you can haul yourself out of bed and join everyone else who would rather holed feeling sorry for themselves. So either tell me what the fuck is wrong or get up. You hungover?" Because it's never been an excuse that's gotten him anywhere. He glances around and, whether it's because he's eager to be done with this task or because he's anxious to be standing around in her room, his shoulders roll. Tela slits those eyes at him, too. "I wish." There aren't telltale bottles lying around for the assistant weyrlingmaster to look at, and for that matter, there's still hardly any furniture: a basic clothespress that shouts out 'to be replaced' and the big sleigh bed that came with the place, that's it, though color scarf-streamers decorate the balcony and the spork collection is missing. It's cleaner than it had been, too. "Girl things. You wouldn't want to know." Because nobody's ever given that excuse before, ever. She says it so offhandedly, too, never mind that she's even paler now. It's just not fair. Girl things. I'zech forehead furrows in frustration and he lifts a hand to scrub his fingers across the wrinkles in his brow, like he can force them out he if he rubs hard enough. Why is he even having this conversation? But then, he's also not exactly sold on her flippantly tossed-off, no-follow-up-questions excuse. "Try again," he tells her humorlessly from under his hand. But another glance at her does notice the pallor and as his hand falls away again, his eyes narrow. Why is she never making it easier on him? "It's the truth," Telavi tells I'zech, her chin lifted. Still there's no followup. "What, you think you're the first woman to ride a dragon? Oh, ow, I have cramps and I'm sad?" Now I'zech rolls his eyes. "Stopper up the gash and let's go. You can be sad later." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, like he expects her just to pop out of bed and head for the ledge. "Or you can go to the infirmary, because the whole... production..." his with a general wave at her. "...has evidently gone awry." So Tela generally takes some pride in being all been-there heard-that, but he went there, and she looks frankly shocked. And disappointed, really. "No." she says, irritation scratching up her voice. "Since when did you become an expert? Are you trying to say that Meara trained you in this sort of thing, or did some girl use that excuse to tell you no? Listen," and here she has to let her eyes shut for a moment before she can get back to glaring at I'zech, but even then she's lost track of what she was saying. I'zech doesn't need to go there. He lives there. And so there's no particular expectation on his face, especially given the way he slings the phrase out and moves right along. "Yeah, Meara walked me through the whole thing. I was twenty five before I learned all about women parts." He talks right over her and as such, catches just enough of 'excuses' and 'no' to snort out a laugh. "Listen? Listen. If you all got a free pass just because of girl things..." Well, surely she can imagine how easy that would be. "Got me? So either give me something or get your ass to the infirmary." He wants something? Tela will give him something, though she clutches a pillow to herself before leaning forward over it. Through her teeth, "If you can get a healer to come here, fine, waste their time, because they've seen me before even if it's supposed to work better than this." And now for the literal something. "If you don't believe me? Look under the bed, I'zech. There is a bucket there. A very, very well-lidded bucket. In the bucket, there is evidence. And if you look in that bucket, you get to take that evidence down to the laundry yourself... and get the fuck out of my weyr." A nonplussed look slowly becomes an incredulous one. "What, is this your first time?" I'zech asks her, shaking his head because no, thank you, he's not messing around with her chamber pot or blood hamper or whatever is in that bucket. "I believe you, Tela. It's your special girl time." Which he says as obnoxiously as he can. "If you've been to the healers for this, why didn't you just say that? Or why didn't they..." Well now he's just frustrated that miscommunications have landed all of this in his lap, weight shifting like he'd really rather just turn around and leave her there with her blankets and her tear-streaks and her bucket. Because, once again, why is he having this conversation?! "Because you were being an ass," that's why. "And I'm hungry," only that turns out more tremulous. "Except not." Tela doesn't bite her lip or anything, but it's a near thing, and it's very much there in her voice. "Can I go back to sleep now?" Oh great. Now there's tremulous complaints. "Now that right there?" I'zech says with a drift of his hand that never quite becomes a point at her. "That's a lady problem." Hungry. With emphasis. Except not. The poor man can only shake his head and thank his lucky stars he doesn't have to stick around for this kind of crap very often. "Fuck. Yeah, fine. Next time, why don't you just give Isath a heads up so that I don't have quaking boys running around talking about how you're on your death bed with contagious diseases. And," with a smirk forming and a more pointed look at her blankets, "see the healers again if you can get there without leaving a trail." Contagious diseases? That gets through Tela's malaise to the point that she actually looks intrigued. But, petulantly, "He woke me up." And then since she's blushing anyway, she flips her assistant weyrlingmaster off, because it takes even less energy than throwing one of the pillows she can't afford to lose. It's clear that I'zech really is on his way out, since Rojeth sweeps back onto the ledge, his effortless quiet just part of his nature rather than some intention to leave Solith undisturbed. And Telavi gets nothing for her intrigue other than another cool smirk, one that grows more satisfied as she gives him the finger. He pauses, eyes momentarily dark as they rest on her lifted hand. "Show up tomorrow." Then that's it. He's off to the ledge, leaving her to her bed. And if someone comes by with food in a while, chances are slim he had anything to do with that, right? |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 11 May 2013 05:18:49 GMT.
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I've said it once, and I'll say it as many times as I need to: I'zech is a magnificent bastard. xD Hard enough to deal with on a /good/ day... Poor Telavi. <3
...Just think of what would've happened if he had called her bluff. ._.;
Another really funny scene. XD
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 15 May 2013 09:15:10 GMT.
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I wonder what he would've done if it'd been Alida's weyr he'd have walked in on when she was feeling like Tela... Heh-heh-heh. ;)
Ceawlin (Ceawlin (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 15 May 2013 23:20:06 GMT.
< Oh goodness. Oh Oh goodness. This was AWESOME.
And so aptly named!
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