Logs:Don't Worry
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| RL Date: 2 November, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Risa's gone missing. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Risa/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
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| Normally, Drex is the one to sleep in, and to wait for Farideh to rouse him from the very warm comfort of the bed. Today, though, the first day of the month, the sailor's up, albeit with an exaggerated yawn, scratching unmentionables as he disappears into the bathing room to take care of ablutions, one of the few things he's begrudgingly accepted as a habit since moving in. His hair is all disarrayed, and he's half dressed by the time he returns, peering down at Farideh in a creepy-esque way. "What? Do I have something on my nose?" is irritated and still sleepy-sounding, from the goldrider, who peeks one eye open at the sailor staring at her from the side of the bed. Farideh seems loath to leave her warm cocoon of blankets and furs, hugging them closer as she turns over and yawns. "Why are you up? Come back to bed," she mutters into the covers. "No," Drex denies, easily enough, grinning quickly despite the goldrider's tone. "It's just... you look so peaceful when you sleep." He tugs, gently and without intent of winning, at the covers. "Have to help shift around some rocks around. Something about the starsmiths, and the morning's light. Aint rightly sure they have their heads screwed on straight." He shrugs, padding towards the chair to collect yesterday's shirt, shrugging into it, frowning at the table. "Uh. Fari?" "Because it's the one time people usually aren't looking at me, or wanting something, or--" That thought is cut off as she defends her right to the covers by pulling back. "Just tell them you're sick," Farideh suggests, snuggling down deeper into the blankets. She's starting to look peaceful again when he says her name. "What?" is half whine, half exasperation, but finally, she grudgingly sits up and yawns, staring moodily towards Drex. There's something in her tone that makes Drex look up, makes him grin, that familiar, tempted grin, but he glances back down at the table, the grin soon pulling into a frown. "Aint ever even seen half these words. Fuck," his brow is furrowed in exasperated concentration, but he gives up, instead picking up the letter and carrying it over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Farideh as he offers it to her. "Hm?" Farideh stifles another yawn behind a hand, continuing to stare at Drex with a faintly brooding look that likely quantifies how much she doesn't want to be awake and talking. She watches him warily as he walks over and sits, before accepting the note, which she promptly reads. And reads a second time. Then, a third. "Shit," is all she says, at last, staring down at the letter with fast-growing trepidation. Weyrwoman - I have made some adjustments to this that I hope will serve. I hope that wasn't presumptuous. I'm leaving. This hasn't worked. Please don't look for me. Thank you for everything you've done. Aisari Drex is rather less attached to Risa, or caring of her fate, than his girl is, it seems. "What the fuck does that mean?" he leans over her shoulder, pointing at presumptuous. "Did she become a prostitute?" Farideh is still staring hard at the note when Drex singles out a word, and her reply is sharp for it, "No, Drex. She's not a prostitute." Agitation colors her voice and makes her movements jerky as she untangles her legs from the covers to slip off the side of the bed. "This is-- no, no, everything will be fine," she says, out loud, though very clearly giving herself a pep-talk as she paces away from the bed. "No one knows she's from Tillek. And if no one knows, then it's fine." Turning to Drex, "Right?" "She's from Tillek?" Drex echoes, blankly. Clearly, he's genuinely not so interesting in listening in to the occasional girl talk. "Aint even sure what it means, except that I guess you have to find someone new. Ought to get a guy next time, maybe." He squints, undoubtedly thinking about set guy pawing through Farideh's wardrobe, and thinks better of it: "Maybe someone who doesn't want a dragon." "Yes," Farideh admits, sheepishly. "We weren't supposed to search anyone from Tillek. It was part of the-- tithe agreement-- but Risa--" She holds out the letter, then drops her arm by her side and frowns. "I just hope she's smart enough not to say anything. If she does, and Tillek decides to retaliate against the Weyr--" She sighs and retraces her steps back to the bed, where she sits, next to Drex. "How do you feel about Ierne?" Drex takes the letter, kind of lamely, but doesn't try to make another attempt to decipher the more complex words, instead setting it aside on the bed as he watches Farideh pace. "She didn't impress," he gives a little shrug of his shoulders. "What would they have to be angry about?" He clearly doesn't pay attention to the politics of it all, and when she sits down, he slides and arm around her waist. "Ierne?" he shakes his head. "Don't know anything 'bout it." The gesture does little in way of comfort for Farideh, who still sits stiffly, wearing a grim expression. "No, she didn't, but it doesn't matter. Lady Edeline made the rules. She could cut our tithes-- she could do any number of things, because she is the Lady Holder of Tillek." Her face scrunches up in displeasure, but then she's turning to stick her tongue out at him. "You'll need to know if Irianke decides to transfer me there for letting Risa stand. For having someone pick her up. It's warmer," she says. Drex is frowning; thinking. "It's on the ocean, right?" he actually seems to perk up. "That'd be... that'd be great. I could do trading up and down the coast, we'd need a ship, since I doubt we could just take the Pirate Queen II," he's frowning again, like he's considering it anyway. "And, yeah, it's warmer. You could wear those cute little dresses all the time," he leans in to nuzzle into her neck, grinning. "You're not supposed to like it." Farideh exhales softly, and her hands settle on her belly. "I'm saying, if Risa tells someone where she was, who she was with-- if Lady Edeline takes it to Irianke and K'del-- I'll be in trouble. '"That's not good," she responds, looking glum again; even his neck-nuzzling doesn't do much to cheer her up. "I don't want to be transferred. Not to Ierne. Not anywhere." "Why not? It's warm, it's near the water, you get to live at a Weyr and I get to sail. It'd be the best of both worlds for us." Drex seems totally sold on this idea, now. "Maybe you ought to suggest it to her. You know, before she does?" He stops nuzzling, and starts frowning, at her latter words. "Why? Don't matter where you live. You can go anywhere. Aint like you can't visit like," he clicks his fingers. "You've never had a place you called home? Besides a ship," and by Farideh's tone, it's obvious ships don't count as homes. "Home's wherever your ship is," Drex replies, obviously, Because, obviously, ships do count as homes. "Aint ever felt a need for more." He squints, sighing. "Ought to get to work," he leans to press a kiss to Farideh's cheek, and makes to rise. "Don't spend yer day worrying about it, eh? If she's gonna tell, aint much you can do about it." His, "Unless you send someone to hunt her down," is half facetious, like he doesn't think Farideh has it in her. Whatever point Farideh was trying to make, it seems has fallen on deaf ears and so, she just gives him her irritated face; take that! "I do wonder how you and Itsy ever get anything done. Don't worry about this, doesn't matter, who cares." She flicks her hand at him and then stands up herself, but she is angling towards the bathroom. "I might," she mutters at him, as she goes. Her ever-practical sailor grins, even despite irritated-face. "Aint always able to control everything. Once you've been through a storm or two, you learn not to sweat the stuff you can't control, yeah?" Drex heads off as she flicks a hand at him, snorted at her latter assertion, disbelieving as he takes off for the day's work. |
Comments
Squishy (23:42, 2 November 2015 (PST)) said...
Oh yes this can't end horribly at all~
V'ret (16:10, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
We should all just pick up and collectively move somewhere warm. We can just pretend it's High Reaches, while we lounge around on the beach.
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