Logs:Compounding Attitude
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2016 |
| Who: Drex, Silva |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: They started off super innocent, then both managed to get insta mad. |
| Where: Greenhouse / Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions |
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| It's been a cool winter's day, though despite the weather outside, it's always warm and humid in the greenhouse. The comparison to outside's weather is quite a contrast, and probably the reason Drex has shed his coat, his short-sleeved shirt loose while he works. It appears that he's setting up a new bed of soil, swinging his pickaxe and turning over the dirt, the scent of it lingering throughout the greenhouse. That warmth might be why Silva has retreated here, where she can take off a layer. She isn't much for the work that comes with farming, but she does like the little flowers that bloom before any fruit begins to go. That is where the greenrider wanders, reaching up to gently touch the petals gently and breathe in their soft scent. Slowly she weaves her way towards the bed of soil being prepared, but doesn't call out to the man. The rush of colder air from outside that accompanies another arrival doesn't go unnoticed; Drex gives a grunt, pausing to lean on his pickaxe, squinting in the direction of the newcomer. Eyes narrow briefly -- like maybe he recognizes her -- and he's muttering, "Fardling great," as he deliberately turns his back, lifting the axe again and swinging it towards the dirt. There's more muttering -- something about riders, and idiots, and other less than savory comments. Silva's been fairly passive the last few months, with only slight flairs of her old attitude. But something about Drex's tone gets on a nerve she's been supressing. Color flushes into her cheeks and her hand lowers to her side. Carefully, oh-so-carefully Silva marches her way over to Drex. "What. Do you have a problem or something?" Drex doesn't even sideye her march to his side, like maybe he's used to such things, finishing the swing of the axe before he deigns to answer, all without looking at her: "Plenty of 'em," he gives a half shrug, the gesture not fully completed. "One just walked right up to me." He makes to lift the axe again. "Like.... no." Silva folds her arm across her chest and stares down her nose at the man. (No matter that he's way bigger than her shortness. She manages it.) "I didn't even like, do anything to do. I mean, like, I was just in the same room." Drex grunts, and it seems that expressive gesture is enough to sum up his response to Silva; certainly there's no worded response to her comment, swinging the pickaxe down again and examining his work, one boot toeing at the newly turned soil. It's like he's ignoring her in the hopes she'll go away. Silva's small hands ball at her side and she stomps once onto the ground. "No. No. No. No. For once I didn't do anything to earn your scorn. I was just enjoying this pretty place and you decided I wasn't wroth anything, and that just isn't right. I'm trying! Okay?!" Drex. >:( "You aint trying very hard. Didn't say nothin'," comes Drex's probably unhelpfully placid response, along with his very judging look. "Aint seen a hissy like that since Fari--" he goes quiet, apparently deciding not to share that particular part, instead taking a break by leaning on the handle of his tool. "Since Fari what? Stood there and did nothing to have someone treat her badly?" Silva's fists are settled firmly on her hips as she stares at the man in angst. "If you treated her like that then you deserved the hissy fit." Now that seems to have struck a sore point, enough that Drex stiffens and scowls. "Treated her like what? You're the one that came up to me while I was working and started screeching like one of those avians when they find some leftover canine shit or something. Ask me, sounds like ya need to get laid and chill the fuck out." Silva's not one to resort to physical violence, but something has her on edge with Drex's attitude. Without even thinking about it one hand comes up and full open palmed goes to slap Drex across the face. Her voice, at least, is quieter. "There was no call for that." "The fuck?" is Drex's reaction to that, dropping the pickaxe and rubbing at his cheek. He takes a step forward, looming over her for a moment, expression dark. "What are you, some kind of crazy chick? Aint even touched you." Small silva should be more scared of this man who is way taller than her. But she's got her dander up, and there's a serious recklessness in action. "You have no right to say such things to me, no matter how horrid you think I am. I came here to enjoy something beautiful." "Aint nobody stopping you," Drex scowls, pointing to the other side of the greenhouse. "You aint the boss of me. I can say whatever the fuck I want." "I don't know why I even bother to exist. It's not like any of you are ever going to give me a second chance." Silva turns on her heel, that flat shoe she's wearing making a tiny hole in the soft dirt at her feet. A flip of her hair as she settles her shoulders. She's pulled the bitch persona full on, and strides towards the doorway and out. "Woe is fucking you, life sucks when everything's handed to you and the Weyr babies you like you're some Blood's runt," is Drex's scowled words to the retreating weyrling's back. Silva's at the doorway, pausing as she opens it up. A selfish part of her totally hopes he gets SICK from the mixing of cold and warm air. "You don't know anything." The door behind her slams, but not enough to cause any damage to the glass it is made out of. If there's a response, it's lost in the satisfying slam of the door. Drex, meanwhile, bends to pick up his pickaxe and resume his work like he was never interrupted, although there's possibly a bit more force to the swing he gives afterwards. |
Comments
Roz (12:02, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said...
Just leave Silva alone! Drex is the worst! ... <3 ahaha. This was a fun read. I enjoyed seeing those two together.
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