Logs:Crisis Cookies
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| RL Date: 2 September, 2015 |
| Who: Roszadyth, Farideh, T'mic, Jorrth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Once Farideh returns to the Weyr, T'mic brings her "special" cookies. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Sisha/Mentions |
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| The day has been long and arduous, and come nightfall, all Farideh is up for is a glass of wine, curled up on her couch, feet tucked under her fresh, voluminous skirts. She's lounging against the tufted back, her hair a mess and a platter of finger foods on the low table in front of the couch. It might not be immediately obvious from how quiet she is, but one of the lower caverns staff -- a mousey, young girl -- is busy tidying up the weyr, while the goldrider relaxes, wearing a world weary expression illuminated by the flickering flames in the hearth. « Do you mind if we come in? » It's Jorrth, sunwarm in that way that T'mic, at least, finds comforting, and gentle in his approach this time. They're already on the weyrleaders' ledge, but not yet into what is Roszadyth's space. T'mic has unstrapped himself and slid down, a little bundle in hand, though he waits for permission before thinking to enter. And when he does, it's with an equally comforting and gentle tone, calling out, "Farideh? It's T'mic." Because clearly, anyone could have arrived all strapped into Jorrth. Roszadyth still has that ethereal calm, radiating in her exchange with Jorrth. Did something bad just happen? Her sunshine-y demeanor would suggest otherwise. She is not authoritative, like her mother. « We would be pleased to see you, » the gold tells her clutchsibling. It's likely no surprise that Farideh is not surprised when T'mic says her name, her head turning towards the entryway. "T'mic, come in," she says, but makes no move to get off the couch, and the lower caverns girl tries not to notice the bluerider as she goes about tidying. T'mic doesn't notice that caverns girl until he's already come up to Farideh and extended the package, cupped in both hands now, with, the proud declaration of, "Cookies!" He's going on to say, "Fresh, too," and casting about for a spot to sit, when he catches a glimpse, and that poor girl will have her attempts to remain inconspicuous rewarded with, "Enough if you want one, too." And then, he's freed a hand to point to the end of the couch. "There okay?" is asked of the goldrider. For him, presumably. "Cookies?" Finally, surprise, and then an actual laugh, that while not quite rich and vibrant, seems genuine enough. "Thank you, T'mic," she says, grabbing the package, which she turns around in her hand before setting it down in her lap. She spares the caverns girl a look, but she is still going about her business, folding clothes and setting things aright. "There is fine," Farideh says, patting the other side of the couch with her hand. "How are you? Have you been here the whole time?" "My uncle made them," says T'mic as he sits. "Cookies in a time of crisis," sounds a bit like a quote, but it's one that makes that bluerider smile warmly, a remembering smile rather than anything for the present state of affairs. "So far. We're in for sweeps. Jorrth's got a good eye for it. Mielline might want us paired with someone more experienced, but... well, Jorrth's got a good eye for it. Gonna go see K'del soon. With cookies," he adds, with a bit of a quirk of his lips. "When anyone who needs to talk with him will have, you know?" But he shakes his head, then, and settles back. Waits. Doesn't prompt, not yet. "Crisis cookies." No more laughter, but Farideh is happy to share a smile with T'mic. "It was nice of him-- I assume, for the whole Weyr?" She makes no mention of that crisis, but situates herself so she's facing T'mic more fully, still curled up on her end of the couch; her head tips against the cushion. "Mielline made a great choice. Any wing would be happy to have you-- and I'm glad you're adjusting well, too." On K'del, her smile turns a smidge sadder. "I'm sure he will enjoy them, and he'll enjoy the company too. Being secluded away to Southern--" She scrunches up her nose. "It's a retreat. It's supposed to be for health, but being so far from everything, I can't imagine." "Well, yeah, he made some for everyone, too, but these ones are special." T'mic shrugs. "I guess he just figured some people needed the fancier ones. It makes sense to me." From there, a nod, while outside Jorrth surely entertains Roszadyth to no end with the details of his flight plans. He is a dragon of the Weyr, and eager to contribute. "It's been... really great, actually. I mean, some of it is a change, even not being in charge, but watching Jorrth? It's like... I have this little sister, and she started doing some carpenter sort of work, and just took to it, you know? She'll be at the hall soon, and she's gonna be just the same." Quieter, then, "I don't think he'll spend too much time alone." "You'll pass my thank yous to him? I don't know how much time I'll have to--" Farideh's smile is earnest and apologetic. "That's good that you found a fit so early. I hear-- some people struggle. Not that I know, know, but--" Roszadyth, with everything happening at the Hold, hasn't done much socializing, and her clutchsibling's tales are enjoyable to listen to; her thrum of happiness is light, sunny. "No. He won't want for company. His weyrmate is there-- Ali-- but it's not the same as being here, now that he's officially Irianke's Weyrleader. I'm sure there's things he wants to do and--" Her voice stalls and her shakes her head, giving T'mic another sad smile. The gesture clearly astonishes Farideh, enough to register on her face, but she doesn't flinch or pull away. It's that same, dejected smile that she offers the bluerider. "It will all be fine," she repeats, her mantra from over the course of the day; perhaps she believes if she says it enough, it might come true. "K'del will live. Irianke is Weyrwoman. And, we will find whoever did this." Knee it is! T'mic's hand rests a moment, pats once or twice, and then takes its leave. "Yeah," he agrees, "it'll be fine. Once everything's fixed, and you know we're all going to work on it. But," and helets his head lean up against the back of the couch, and looks all sorts of sympathetic, "that doesn't mean it's got to be fine right now. Right now," the shoulder not pressed into the couch lifts, "it's not." A beat. "Except for the cookies part." It's certainly a great effort, but Farideh only sighs, running her free hand through her hair and then letting it drop to the package full of cookies. "Doesn't it, though? I can't-- K'del and Irianke are there, and I'm here, and Sisha. I should put on a brave face. Say everything's alright. It's what I'm supposed to do, T'mic," she says, quietly; ever aware of that other girl still puttering around her weyr. "Yeah, but that's out there," says the bluerider, head still up against that couch. "I mean, if you have to keep doing that for now, then okay. If it's for you. I just mean, we don't need-" and it's about there he thinks of that girl over there, and rubs a hand at his leg. "Anyway. Just wanted to make sure the cookies got safe to you. See if you needed us to do anything little or silly for you." Farideh leans in towards T'mic, wine sloshing dangerous close to the rim of her glass, and whispers, "I'll have a good cry about it later in bed, when I'm alone. But for now--" She sits up straighter. "It's never good for people to see that part. That's not what Irianke would do. It's not--" Her lips thin and she glances down at the package in her lap. "Thank you, T'mic. You're too good a friend, really, but we're fine for now." T'mic leans in as conspirators ought to do, and nods, and even smiles a little at that whisper. And then, straightens in time with the goldrider. "If you're sure. Anyway, Roszadyth knows how to get a hold of Jorrth if you guys do need something. And we'll be home all night, him and me." He starts to push himself up, into a straighter sit, still, readying to leave. "And share one of those cookies with your helper, huh?" "I appreciate it. I'll be sure to have Roszadyth," Farideh's eyes flick towards the exit, but her voice is fond, "let Jorrth know, but you should rest too. What if K'del calls for triple sweeps? You'll be on your toes." She relaxes back against the couch cushions, giving a dip of her head. "I'll share with her, if she wants them. She's been-- efficient," the goldrider says, peeking over the back of the couch, to spy on the slim girl as she sweeps out a corner. "We'll sleep. Soon." |
Comments
Faryn (06:28, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Ugh. UGH. T'mic gives me diabetes, and not just because of cookies.
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