Logs:Do You Think I'm Disgusting? Part 2
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| RL Date: 12 August, 2011 |
| Who: Riorde, Iolene |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: It's supposed to be -any- minute now and having slept poorly the night before, Iolene finds solace in the rising sun. Riorde joins her. They talk of life and fairy tales. |
| Where: Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| For many, including Iolene, the night was a restless one, though for many it was the hatching and dreams of a different life. For Io, it's likely that and the fact that she will probably never eat cake for the rest of her life. The impending doom does, however, explain how a bunch of teenagers and a few people in their early twenties, could be up before the sunrise, among them Io and the young once-exile finds herself standing at the top of the highest precipice accessible by foot, seated with her legs tucked into her body and watching the sun begin to climb above the tall bowl walls. It's a warm early morning, which will hopefully portend of a blissfully hot day. Through that long, long night, Riorde kept to herself, tucked away in her corner cot with her face to the wall and her back to the barracks. If she slept, it wasn't much; her face is tight and pinched from the lack of sleep and the nerves that kept her awake. As soon as the headwomen released the curfew, out she went, no stranger to dawns and sunrises. Even those at High Reaches are starting to become familiar. Her long legs carry her unfailingly towards the lake, and before the sun can turn the water to warm, liquid gold, she's already scaled the cliffs. As she climbs the steep stairs and comes to the ledge, Riorde's unsurprised to find Iolene there before her. "Hey," she calls to her, voice low from ingrained habit; one shouldn't startle people on top of cliffs. Iolene is in the middle of breathing in the liquid air, even with its lack of salty brine, and the warmth that lingers in the morning air about her when Riorde comes upon her. Even with the 'hey' that lets her know of someone else's presence, the exhale she indulges in is long, slow, steadied and just as slowly, those dark eyes open and Io's head turns over her shoulder to favor the owner of the familiar voice with a small smile. "They say any minute now." An any minute that's being counted out in milliseconds by the nervous tapping of Io's big toe against the stone. Although anticipation is all around them, running through the Weyr like a fever, Riorde is unhurried. Once she's spoken, the island girl returns to her silence, wth a slight nod to serve as acknowledgment of Iolene's statement. She comes to stand alongside the blonde, and for awhile all she does is look out at the Bowl and the rising sun and the figures of men and dragons made deceptively small from the height. "We'll see it if it starts. Think we can get down in time?" Riorde sounds thoughtful rather than worried, but her gaze skips around, unable to settle. Glancing at Iolene finally, she favours her with a tense smile. "If you pretend, you can almost think it's home from up here." "I know." Which is likely why it wasn't a surprise for Riorde to find Iolene up this high. "I miss our cliffs. I miss Grams. I-." The blonde tips her head up so her loose blonde hair, brushed for once, falls closer to the ground. She looks up and up to the standing Riorde. Quieter, a little more sad, though nowhere near tearful, she shares, "I miss Dev." In response, Riorde drops down, tucking herself into a seated pose next to Iolene. She reaches to take the other girl's hand so she can give it a tight squeeze. "I know." She hesitates, her smile turning sad in the face of all they've lost, including their childhood, their innocence. "He misses you too." "Does he?" In a question that, if she thought very hard about it or remembered better, might strike her as funny, but for now just sounds mournful, "Do you think I'm disgusting?" Iolene curls an arm around Riorde's possessively, as if by latching on in any way, the outcome of Ri's response might be different. "We didn't know," is her one-lined defense. "Of course he does." Riorde sounds strong in this, strong enough for the both of them. Iolene's second question catches her off-guard, though it's a question she's asked of herself not so very long ago. "No!" She puts force into it, beating back any other possible answers. "You could never be disgusting. You didn't know." At first strident, Riorde moves into gentler tones. "I told him. He said he'd help us." There's marked relief in Iolene's face. "I'm glad." The hug of Riorde's one arm tightens and the blonde teenager leans over to press a kiss to Ri's cheek. "I'm really glad. I miss a lot of things that I can't have anymore," is her next confession that overlaps with what Ri says, which then brings a puckered puzzlement to Io's brow. "Help us? Told him?" Not stupid, but not the brightest bulb in the bunch, the need for clarification rests in those drawn together brows that look to the brunette. Riorde has a smile for Iolene in return, still touched with sadness but also relieved to see some of Iolene's concern allayed. The other girl would have to be sharp-eyed to see the guilt in there too, or to see it and know it for what it is. "Me too," Riorde owns up before Iolene draws out further revelations. "Yeah, told him we were going to be on the sands -- well, you were and I was thinking about it. I'm going to do it, Io." She says it firmly, but a bit numbly as she hears herself profess that intention aloud for the first time. "Taikrin says it makes you free." Unfortunately, Iolene is in no state to be sharp just now, though her empathy, at one point, might have allowed her to see the guilt. Perhaps it's the latter that causes one of the arms to release Riorde so her hand might travel up and rest along the other girl's opposite shoulder chummily, the fingers petting soothingly even as Riorde makes her intentions known. "I'm glad for that too. Now we can stand next to each other." Cheered by this new bit of knowledge, the younger girl squishes her shoulders in towards her face and in doing so, releases Ri completely. Those arms stretch up to the sky and the rising sun and another deep breath is taken and exhaled. "I would love to be free. I think we were more free in exile than we are here. Someone told me the other day that there are rumors the Weyr's being paid to keep us here. I think they're afraid. The Hold. I think Devaki is right." "Yeah." Riorde tries to look reassured, but there's still something unsettled about her, some tense longing that even Iolene's fingers don't soothe away. "I always thought we were trapped," she confides, watching Iolene stretch. "Now I think I didn't know what trapped meant." She frowns as Iolene shares the rumours, but some of the tension eases from her as she's given something new to think over. "I think that makes sense," she agrees slowly. "They've reason to be scared of us. After what they did." Old bitternesses surge up, even if they were never fully hers. Bitterness like hers is hereditary. "What /did/ they do?" wonders Iolene aloud, a child's naive curiosity embedded in her words. "Will we ever really know? Or why?" Rhetorical as those questions are, there is just the smallest pause, in case Riorde speaks, but then not enough time is actually given for a word to insert itself. "Maybe," the girl smiles, eyes upcast to the cliff's edge where dawn's rose begins to peek over the rock, "I would have been that fancy girl with her stolen necklace. And you'd be married to my brother as the future lady of Reaches." Low laughter accompanies her words, mocking and a little more of that deep-rooted latent sadness that seems to underline much of what Io does or speaks of since the 'rescue.' "Maybe not," Riorde relents into the pause, and would say more except there's not the time for anything more; she's already overlapped with the beginning of Iolene's fanciful what-ifs. "Maybe." She smiles a little too, but reality is a stronger pull and she can't forget, "Except I'm not Blood like you are. My family had stories, my grandmother told me and my brother. We could've been Blood, but we weren't." It's vague and jumbled in this half re-telling, the story of her family's exile. "But maybe if we hadn't been sent to the island, we would have been. And I could have married your brother." "And we could be planning my wedding now." Iolene drifts into this world of dreams and fairy tales as easily as if it were real, for as practical as she can be... "Though I hope it wouldn't be to that old man. Maybe someone young. Someone handsome. Someone with hands as gentl-. Someone with hands. Hands are useful things." The abrupt change brings a dark flush to the girl's cheeks and she manages to giggle nervously. "Oh well. I suppose I'm twice Blooded now. Will you stand next to me on the sands? Hold my hand?" Keep her from falling and running away? "Hands are important," Riorde agrees, amused despite the more melancholy, poignant character of her mood. "I wouldn't let an old man marry you. He'd have to get past me first." Like the dragons? "Of course I'll hold your hand. We got into this together, didn't we? Have you got a robe yet?" Talking about their impending doom on the sands - assuming K'del keeps his promise and they can get there - reminds her about that badge of candidacy that they don't have. The flush remains on her cheeks, a pink rose in half bloom, and lingers there long after the subject of conversation that caused such embarrassment passes. "Oh, I- I stole one. I shoved it under my mattress. There were ever so many and I don't think they'd notice if one went missing." Iolene darts her lashes up to study Riorde. "You? Do you really think he'll keep his word?" "I'm going to grab one when we go back." Riorde sticks her legs out in front of her and wiggles her toes, shoeless now that winter's worn off. "I figure everyone'll be so busy rushing around it'll be easy." She remains quiet on K'del's promise for a good long while, considering it all over again though there's been plenty of time to ponder it in the days before. "I don't know," she says eventually, turning to look at Iolene. "If he doesn't we'll just keep our heads down and go. No one will notice. You've seen how many candidates there are, we'll just say we're someone else. Just don't let Eirdan get a look at us." Her annoying younger brother. "Maybe you can try to have a look at their list while I'm stealing my robe," she proposes. "Mmm," is Iolene's wordless agreement. And for a moment, she's quiet, just waiting for the sun to complete its rise a hand dropping to the ground and making a spider's path over to try and find Riorde - a hand, a knee, something human and tangible to hold onto and pet. There's the lightest breeze in the air, dancing over the water below them, causing ripples in the lake's calm, and washing over their point on the cliff. It rifles through hair and through loose dresses before dying out in favor of summer's warmth. "Mmmmmm," this time, her throaty noise is one of appreciation rather than assent, and in it she turns to favor Riorde with a slow climbing, but bright-as-the-sun smile. Riorde looks down as Iolene's hand finds her knee, at which point she leans closer with the intention of putting her arm around Iolene's shoulders in a friendly, protective one-armed hug. She smiles back, more toothy than bright, lionine with a sharp edge that doesn't bode well for anyone who gets in their way. "We'll get there," Riorde promises what is not hers to promise. |
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