Logs:Feigned Disappointment
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 March, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, Jadzia, Laine |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Faryn and Jadzia have something in common. Laine is weird. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 5, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
    |
| The fact that it is early afternoon doesn't stop the Snowasis from being a party; whatever is happening inside is loud and pleasant, with people singing, off-key, over the rapid pace of a guitar. Maybe Faryn is just not one for singing, or maybe she's looking for a little peace without having to fully relocate. The beastcrafter exits to the ledge with a half-finished glass of deep amber with a single glance behind her, a smile fleet on her face. It's not that ledge is empty - never really is - but that it is quieter, and presently the woman is wending between the furniture until she can find a free spot, gesturing her intentions before she takes it up. Jadzia is settled at a table near the edge of the ledge, staring at a nearby brown in the bowl who is, in turn, watching her. It could be a staring contest except that the blonde is quick enough to look away from the dragon to acknowledge the woman who wants her free seat. So it was probably just one of those weird, silent conversations. "Hey," she greets, eyeing Faryn down and up as she sits across from the brownrider. "What're you drinking?" There's no judgment in the way she asks it, only curiosity. "Whiskey?" Faryn says, though she seems slightly uncertain. "Scotch?" She shrugs, not committing to either answer, but sniffing it before taking another sip. "Whiskey," is confirmed after that. Her glance, which had followed Jadzia's out towards the bowl, is still on the brown. "He yours?" she asks, tilting her chin towards him. "Whiskey," Jadzia repeats with some approval, despite the uncertainty. "Good choice." It means Faryn can stay, anyway. Or that Jadzia will stay. Either way, she glances toward the brown again and says with a very well feigned sigh of disappointment, "Yeah. He's mine. Savroveth. Jadzia." The introductions are made a hand waved vaguely in the brown's direction and then tilted back toward herself. Ah, the sweet sound of acceptance. And the whiskey glass is versatile, today. It's brought up quickly to conceal a her smile of amusement. "Well," she says, "if he's that long-suffering, at least he's handsome." Maybe she's seen his particular shade before, and that is what gives her the confidence to dole out compliments despite being a distance away. "Well met. Name's Faryn." The herder's own gestures are vague, towards herself then, an afterthought, to her knot, to fill in the gaps. "He is that," even Jadzia has to admit. He is a handsome dragon. Though, no matter how much she acts like he's such a burden, she's horribly biased toward him anyway. "The problem is that he knows it." Never mind the smile the flickers on the brownrider's face when Savroveth himself makes a rumbling sound of protest. "You been here long? I always figured maybe I should be a herder. I used to train runners." "Just like a man," intones Faryn solemnly, probably mostly due to Savrevoth's protests. From where she and Jadzia are sitting, at the table near the edge of the ledge, the dragon in question is visible in the bowl. The herder puts her glass down and folds her hands, resting her chin on her knuckles to consider. "Since around the storm, I guess," she says, and there's no elaboration - though there seems to be a bit more to it than that if the quirk of her mouth is any indication. Jadzia would have to be quick to catch it, though; it's there and gone fast when she carries on, "The runners are the best part of this craft," she says, firmly. "You might have been good at it. The trouble is getting stuck managing the rest of the herds." If Jadzia catches it, there's still the possibility that she doesn't want to ask about it. It's not like the storm was super fun or anything and what if it has to do with that. "Oh, I was good at training them." No lack of confidence here! "He gets jealous now if I spend too much time with them, though." The brownrider rolls her eyes. Men, even in dragon form, are dumb. A low, tuneless whistle precedes Laine as she caroms up the stairs to the garden patio ledge, two steps at a time. When she arrives at the top, she pauses (the whistling cut abruptly short) and she skims the seated patrons with grey eyes. That gaze flicks past Faryn, then back again; the herder's companion receives only a passing look. Faryn, though: Laine's weaving her way through tables to pull up next to the pair of women. "You. Cards," the tanner says, rummaging for something in her pocket, "Right?" Her interest is notably piqued. Faryn's straightened up in interest, her brows raising questioningly. "Trained for...?" she leads. "I'd love if they'd let me focus on racing - we could make a lot of marks there - but -" Her thoughtful pause is well-timed, just enough for Laine to interject. Whatever she's about to say is curtailed at the familiar voice, and, "Oh! Yeah. Farideh said you had them. Thanks for grabbing them." "For guards, mostly. But I've started them for just about everything." All runners need a solid foundation, after all. Jadzia is about to say more, but instead her gaze shifts toward the girl who joins them and she offers a brief, polite smile. Then she's glancing out where Savroveth is still sitting and watching them, oh so patiently. Catching Faryn's last few words, Laine has the grace, at least, to look sheepish for so brashly interrupting an ongoing conversation. Fishing through her pockets eventually produces a deck of cards, tucked in a oiled leather holder with a snap for a closure that looks quite new. Both Jadzia and Faryn get a wan smile as Laine urges the cards towards the herder. She doesn't leave, though. Awkward. Faryn looks surprised as she takes the deck, not because they're her cards - a thing she confirms quickly by opening the snap and drawing out the first few from the top; as if Laine has any reason to be switching them out - but because of the case itself. Her expression is pleased but perplexed, "Did you," she starts, then stops, realizing that things did just get a bit weird. "Have you two met?" Without waiting for an answer, "Laine, Jadzia. Jadzia, Laine." Then, waving the cards, "And now you've both met my cards." "No," answer Jadzia in regards to whether or not they've met before, anyway. "I don't remember if we have, anyway. Jadzia," of which Faryn has already confirmed. "Savroveth," is added with a vague gesture toward nearby brown in the bowl. His chin lifts slightly in what might be acknowledgment. Yo. "Hi," for Jadzia, and "Hi," for Savroveth--he gets a hand lifted, a wave. Laine blurts, "Well. Don't let me interrupt--" (even though she totally did) "--whatever it was you were talking about." Just passing through, apparently. The tanner's paled smile hitches into something more earnest, she swivels with a little waggle of her fingers, and weaves through tables to disappear into the Snowasis. Faryn's expression stays perplexed as the whirlwind that is Laine disappears again into the Snowasis, as quickly as she arrived. Her head tilts slightly to the side, and after a moment's contemplation she takes her glass in hand. "I've got to thank her," she says, somewhat apologetic. "It was nice meeting you, and Savroveth too." It's said earnestly, even as she scoots her chair out, lifting her glass in toast to the brown dragon below. "Maybe we'll see one another again. I'd love someone who can put a runner through their paces. They're few and far between here. If you'll excuse me, though." She turns and traces Laine's footsteps, back into the noise of the bar. |
Leave A Comment