Logs:Fight About It
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| RL Date: 5 February, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Insults are flung, and snowballs, but in the end, Drex gets some booty. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 13, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
| Mentions: Itsy/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions |
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>---< Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#250RJs) >-----------------------------<
The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only
sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of
daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond,
allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven
jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late
afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the
bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far
north.
Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward
to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by
more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground
here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in
spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most
frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the
Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching
sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.
Rumbles and flashes of lightning intersperse between the periodic fall of
snow throughout the day. There is humidity in the otherwise cold air.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Drex M 17 6'2 muscled, black hair, brown eyes 3s
Farideh F 19 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- It's been snowing on and off throughout the day, and combined with the biting wind it's kept anyone from lingering outside too much as the dinner hour approaches. Already, the appealing scents of this evening's meal is already drawing many to the caverns. Drex, in his thick black coat, stands out against the white of the snowfall, trudging inevitably along from the direction of the outer entrance of the Weyr. His face is a mix of mottled bruises, some dark purple and some fading to yellow, a slightly crooked cast to his nose. Given the direction most weyrfolk are headed - warmth, security, and delicious morsels - it's probably strange that a lone figure stands, purposefully, a dragon's length or so from the cavern entrance. Boot-encased feet stamp at the snow, and the rest of the slim brunette's figure is swallowed up by an oversized jacket, that has sleeves long enough to cover her hands and a hem that hits just above her knees. Farideh's hiding the lower portion of her face behind a knitted scarf, though her eyes are quite luminous and green, above the voluminous folds of said wool. She's fidgeting restlessly, flapping her arms and moving her knees in an effort to keep warm. It seems like she's waiting for something or someone, and while it's not Drex, she does twist around to watch him as he walks continuously closer. One of those arm flaps might even look like a wave. Drex's pace doesn't slow, even if his path veers rather pointedly towards Farideh all of a sudden. He's taken note of arm-flapping movements, and a furrow of brow is visible as he nears, breath pluming a slight mist in the air as he asks, "You practicing or something?" The stamp of his boots brings him close enough for easy conversation, stopping just shy of her, staring. The closer the sailor gets, the further her brows furrow together. "Practicing? For what?" because she doesn't get it. "What--" Farideh leans forward, squinting at his face, "Happened to your face? Did you fall down a flight of stairs?" She's not apologizing for openly gawking at his bruises either, and even takes a step closer - keeping her arms still now - for a better look. Drex gives her one of those looks, the ones that says he's humoring her slowness. "For flight," he says, like it should be obvious. "You should try getting a run up. Seen the littles do it better than you." Her gawking earns a brief scowl, which probably hurts, judging by the wince that follows. "Some asshole rider," he shrugs, like it's to be expected. A slight shift from staring, befuddled, to a glare should convey the appropriate amount of annoyance, but it's gone in a blink and she's back to staring at his battered face. "What does his face look like? Worse than yours, I hope," Farideh imparts cheerfully, and points to her own nose. "Is it broken? Are you going to be disfigured for life?" Travesty, from the sound of it, but she's still trying to creep as close as he'll let her, to ogle his yellowing marks. The sailor gives a shrug, as if he's not sure, doesn't care, or most likely both. "Got his knife, though," Drex says, proudly, shifting his coat enough to display the rather unimpressive looking belt knife he's got tucked through the left loop of his belt. Apparently that counts as "winning", broken face or no. Speaking of, he lifts a hand to his nose, then gives another shrug. "Dunno. Might be." He's eyeing her warily, like he's not sure why she's inching closer to him, and not much liking it. "His--" Farideh's eyes flick down to the knife and she takes two hurried steps backwards, almost tripping over her own feet in the process. "What are you going to do with that?" she asks, pointing to the knife, but looking at him accusingly. Her sudden, backward retreat has the sailor grinning, more relaxed now she's backing away. "Dunno," Drex gives one of those half shrugs. "Probably keep it for the next time that asshole tries to bust open my face." Warily, still, "You can't stab a rider." Her arms come up to cross, awkwardly, over her chest, and she gives Drex an unhappy stare. "They'll just throw you between," Farideh says, though her tone implies that idea might not be overly unpleasant. She pushes the toe of one boot into the snow and looks down. "How'd you get into the fight?" His bemused, "Why not?" is closely followed by, "He tried to stab me first. Aint no contest, but I aint intending to wake up with a knife between my ribs." Drex lets his coat fall back into place once he's given a last, possessive pat of that acquired knife. Another shrug. "I was drunk. Bumped into him or something. Not sure if he was trying to come onto me or kill me, at first. He was fucking crazy." A beat, as dark eyes settle on Farideh, with a sudden grin, "Worse 'n you." "I don't know if I believe that entirely. You like to accuse people of firsts, a lot, and not honestly." Unimpressed hazel eyes lift up, touching briefly on the sailor before falling to where she's pushing around snow with her shoe. "Do you want to fight about it?" Farideh asks innocently, her eyebrows lifting, though her eyes do not. "Don't matter if you don't believe me," Drex says. "I know what happened. Won't be sleeping without an eye open till it's settled." He seems rather at ease about it, as if that sort of thing happens a lot. It's her latter statement that makes him stare at her blankly, though. "Fight about what?" Exasperated, Farideh stops playing with the snow and looks up. "You called me crazy. You called him crazy. You fought with him about it. You want to fight me, too?" She lifts her chin and tries to stare down her nose at him, which is hard, since he's much taller than she is. Drex eyes her, for a long moment, like he's briefly considering it, except: "Yer a girl." Surprise! In case you didn't know. Triumph blossoms on the girl's face, and she can't quite hide the smug smile she wears. "I'm a girl? You can't hit a girl? What if I hit you first?" Farideh takes a supposedly threatening step towards him, but everyone know she's about as scary as ball of lint. "Girls don't hit," Drex says, like this is a Known Thing. After a beat. "'cept Itsy, of course." The exception to the rule. He squints down at her, clearly not believing for a second she's about to take a swing at him. "Girls can too hit. We can do anything you can do." After she rolls her eyes, she includes, "And Itsy." Farideh takes the necessary steps to get close, and only stops when they're almost toe-to-toe; then, she pauses and stares up at him warily. It might seem like she's not going to do anything, but then she lifts her hand as though she might slap him. Still, pausing, unsure. "A'course they can. Itsy does. But you're a... a girl," Drex says, with a slight emphasis, as if there's some sort of difference between a girl like her, and a girl like Itsy. "What's that supposed to mean?" Farideh asks, her fingers curling inward, her hand becoming a fist and her expression turning ominous. "You know." Doesn't she? Drex certainly isn't being very enlightening, like it should be obvious. "Tea parties and dresses and gossiping, and... all that." "How do you know that? You don't know me at all. I could hate dresses. Or tea. Or gossiping." But Farideh, noticeably, doesn't deny it. Her hands drops back to her side and she resumes staring at him petulantly, as if that act alone could cow him. Drex gives her a look, that kind of superior, I know better than you because you're a girl so nyeh, look. He's, apparently, well practiced at this. "You're dumb," the laundress shoots back, immaturely, her lips curling in distaste. There's a pause, and then she's reaching her hands up towards his face. Perhaps Farideh's going for the possibly-broken nose, or the eyes; hard to tell. The sailor might be pretty sure Farideh can't really hurt her, and yet, his nose does hurt a great deal, so that's probably why he backs off, with narrowed eyes and a warning raise of hands. Farideh's hands slap at his hands. "Move." Confusion and wariness paints itself across Drex's expression. "What are you--" but she manages to slap his hands down, even if he's still backing up a step. "I'm--" Farideh might not be going about it in the politest way, but when he steps back, she steps forward, still trying to reach her hands up to his face; they're obviously going for the sides of his face. If he gives up to allow it, she'll try to grab his face and pull it down - ugh, tall people - to where she can see his funky nose up close. "Have you even tried to get it checked?" Concern? "Aint the first time I've been in a fight," Drex says, with a furrow of brow, more surprised than anything when she grabs to pull his face nearer. "It's fine," he insists, looking to shake off her hands. Which probably answers her question pretty clearly. "You're still dumb," Farideh informs him primly, but relinquishes his face. "If it's broken, aren't you supposed to get it set by a healer? Or it really will stay--" She crooks her fingers, kinked, and pulls a face at him. "Ugly." He gives another one of those shrugs, like it's not a big deal. "Seems fine from where I'm standing." Drex can't, of course, see the crookedness from his side of things. "No one's going to want to kiss a face like that," Farideh points out, re-crossing her arms and leveling a mocking look on the sailor. "Shutter the glow, and no one will know the difference. Bet that's served you well a time or two," Drex, not so much keeping with the truce in the face of her comments, likewise folds his arms, staring down at her with narrowed eyes. Two can play, or rather, fight. "I don't have any problem with that, but neither do you, because I'm positive the only thing you've ever kissed is a fish." Farideh looks proud of herself for that one, lifting her chin up a tad higher, expression haughty. "Sailor," a derogatory term. If sailor is meant to be an insult, Drex certainly doesn't take it that way, grinning, suddenly: "And proud of it." Being a sailor, presumably, rather than kissing a fish. That, of course, doesn't mean he's exactly adult about it, stooping briefly and collecting a loose handful of snow with the intent of smooshing it into her hair. Farideh doesn't see it coming - neither the pride in his occupation or the smooshing of snow in her hair - and the scream she lets lose is enough to startle a pair of riders walking nearby. Her furious glare is short and instantaneously, before she's reaching out her hands to give him a shove, with her whole body weight behind it; fight. The shove is enough to push Drex back a step, but then he holds his ground. And he's laughing. At her. "What, girls don't play in snow? You can't tell me you've never tried to write your own name." "I play with snow fine. I don't put snow in other people's hair when they don't ask for it," she says unevenly, bending another furious look on the sailor. "It's not the same." Farideh aims a weak punch at his chest, frowns, and gives her head a shake, trying to dislodge any of the snow still stuck. "You're so-- so-- ugh." "You wait for them to ask? You've been doing it wrong this whole time," Drex says with a grin, like he's so adult and he knows much better than her how these things go. He might just be enjoying her attempts to dislodge the snow, for a moment or two, but... weak punch or not, it does land, and it does make the sailor suck in his breath sharply, flinching visibly. They were having a pleasantly unpleasant argument, and then Drex had to go and make her have sympathy; it quirks her brow, though she's slow to respond, as she's busy dislodging slow and stewing. "Do you have bruises there too?" Farideh asks, trying for non-committal, and just missing the mark with a thread of unease. If only he knew how to do this on purpose, and he'd be a force for... something. But no. Speaking of: "No." He's lying. Totally. And that glare's back again, to warn her off. Drex, dressed in a warm black coat, is standing near Farideh, dressed in her warm clothes, not that far from the entrance to the living caverns. The start of the dinner hour is drawing people in, most not sticking around for long in the cold, wintry bowl. Oh, and Drex looks like he recently had his nose smashed in, too, colorful looking bruises making that plain. "What a shame. They would match lovely with your face," the one that's been kissing fish, according to Farideh. "And I don't think shuttering the glows," as he put it earlier, "would help you at all, upon further reflection." With that tidbit dispatched, she flips her hair over her shoulder and makes a point of straightening her jacket, playing with the folds of her scarf; semi-ignoring. Take that Drex! A wiser, more mature, and less nosey person would probably do well to walk on past. And yet, there is Drex and Farideh, and one of them with a punched in nose, the other spewing insults. Tugging the borrowed coat more tightly around her, Edyis can't pass up the free entertainment as she makes her way over in their direction. With a grunt, Drex seems to take that in relative stride. Or... well, mostly, so, leaning to scoop up another loose handful of snow, eyeing Farideh rather pointedly. Just how much is she ignoring him? He takes a step towards her, just to test. Those shiny buttons on her coat are interesting, until Drex takes a step forward that is. "N-o--" Farideh squeaks, taking a step back and another, and manages to trip over the snowbank she's stepped into. She lands on her butt in the middle of a pile of snow, staring, horrified, up at Drex and his handful of snow; she is at his mercy now, elbow deep in the white stuff. But her eyes seem to scream that it's all his fault. Luckily, or unluckily, she hasn't yet spotted her friend. It isn't until Farideh falls, that Edyis scoops up a handful of snow, fingers working quickly to pack it into a tight sphere. "Wouldn't do that if I were you." She calls to the Sailor, reparing to lob the sphere at him. Drex is definitely laughing at her again at that squeak, and doubly so when she falls over. But, he's not that mean. Ok, mostly not, but he does offer her his other hand, presumably to pull her back up onto her feet. "What?" he squints at Edyis. "I didn't push her down, she fell," he says, all defensive. Relief spreads over her face when she hears the familiar voice, but Farideh accepts the hand Drex offers and tries to use it to leverage herself up out of the snow. "Edyis, hit him in the face," she instructs her friend cheerfully, but she's definitely smiling up at the sailor. Two against one. Edyis is dubious, squinting back at Drex. As Farideh's wishes are made known, the bartender grins rather impishly, sending the snowball sailing though how accurately remains to be seen. Girls stick together, after all. She's already preparing her second shot. Drex's moment of chivalry lasts oh, about as long as it takes for Farideh to find her feet and smile at him. He grins at her, and then he's taking that handful of snow and trying to shove it down the back of her coat. Because opportunities like this are not to be missed, it seems. It also means he's not on the lookout for Edyis' snowball, and it smacks him roundly on the shoulder, dispersing snow all over him. That should have been expected, but Farideh is too caught up in her limited success to see the new snow threat coming her way. She screams, again, and starts flailing around, trying to dislodge the snow sliding its way down the inside of her coat, between her layers. "Why did you do that?" she wails, giving him another reproachful glance, while she's busy contorting left and right, hands at her back. Edyis', and her, success is short lived. Edyis squeals in delight as her first shot lands, and in childish delight sends the second shot sailing. "Take that!" She's starting on more snowballs now, fingers starting to go pink with cold. Why did Drex do that? Because he can! The sailor's looking pleased with himself, at least until Edyis' second snowball comes his way, and then he's dodging -- with a visible wince, to try and position himself behind Farideh. Except for the fact that he's taller than her and she's wiggling about like a worm, it'd be a perfect plan. Being a human shield has many disadvantages - even for short people - such as: getting hit by errant snowballs thrown by your friend while you're trying to dislodge the clump of fast-melting snow from under your coat. "Edyis." Farideh's whining and fussing the whole way, until the last icy chunk falls out and she can turn, murderously, on Drex, since he's so conveniently at hand. "You," she growls, and launches herself at him, again; maybe it'll go over better than the last, or-- not. Even if a few of Edyis' wildly tossed snowballs do hit the sailor, Drex still looks pleased with himself that some hit Farideh, too. He's still laughing at the pair of them, casting a glance towards Edyis, and it's evident from the surprised, wide-eyed look that he doesn't expect Farideh to charge at him (again.) His hands go up defensively, but this time there's no strong footing to help counter her momentum. Down he goes, grunting as he falls. The laundress' expression is one of satisfaction, pure and unadulterated, when she manages to knock Drex down in the snow. She stands over him, hands on her hips, and smiles smugly. "I'm sorry that that happened, but if you had just played nice," Farideh explains, but doesn't offer her hand to him; she's too busy glancing back at Edyis. Edyis hangs on to her snowball, closing the gap between herself and the pair in the snow, still grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, come on Farideh Play nice, he at least helped you up... so maybe he isn't a total...." She scrunches her nose trying to think of an appropriate word. Drex... doesn't get up. He groans again, one hand twisting protectively over his middle, the other splayed out to one side, eyes scrunched like he's in pain. "Why do I have to play nice? He doesn't." Farideh might as well be pouting for the way she says it, shifting in the snow and looking expectantly at Edyis. It's Drex's groan that has her eyes flitting down to the sailor, and consequentially her eyebrows furrowing. "Are you oh-kay?" she asks, but she's already squatting down next to him, looking him first; touching went over so well earlier, that she keeps her hands to herself, for now. "Sorta nice? See you broke him." She points to the injured man in the snow. Snowball still in hand. "Oooowwwwww," comes Drex's... somewhat exaggerated response. His hand shifts off his chest and onto the ground, squirming as if uncomfortable, fingers flexing. It's a total coincidence that he manages to get a handful of snow in each hand. Well, only one of them is in reach, but Farideh will do! He's going for her hair again, but it's a difficult angle from down there. By now, Farideh's not that surprised, though her expression reads that way when Drex gets her with the snow again. She starts laughing hysterically and buries her face in her hands, sagging from squatting over her feet to kneeling; in the snow even! "I give up," she groans at Drex. "Surrender. You win." Her head lolls back and she looks up at Edyis. "I give up." Edyis laughs, tossing the snowball to land harmlessly somewhere behind her, peering down at Farideh. "Just like that you surrender. Well I never." Her mock disappointment dissolving into a smile. "Who'd have guessed he had a sense of humor." Drex looks pleased, pushing himself to a seated position. There is a genuine, sharp intake of breath as he does so, but it's fleeting. "Good. I'll take your scarf," he holds out a hand, looking at Farideh expectantly. Edyis' comment makes him glance over at her, too, with a brief smirk. "And it does tricks, too." With a resigned sigh, Farideh unwinds the bulky scarf from around her neck, and bundles it up into a fluffy ball, which she presents to Drex. "Try not to ruin it?" she says seriously, giving him the look. "It's not like I make a ton of marks to pay for things like that." Which they all should well know. "It is annoying," just so they're all in the clear about that. Edyis eyes the surrender of the scarf dark brow lifting at Farideh curiously. "Tricks are easy; any fool can do em." Smirking back, and stuffing frozen hands into her pockets. Drex gives a shrug, like that's not a commitment he's prepared to make. Mostly because, "Lady Annoying will like this. Might keep her from sleeping on my pillow." He looks pleased with himself as he claims his booty from Farideh, letting the scarf hang loosely in his hand while he pushes himself to his feet, breathing in deeply while he does so. With a jaunty whistle of a tune that might be familiar as some sea shanty, he heads towards the caverns, albeit at a relatively slow pace, even for him. "What a dumb, annoying, self-centered--" Farideh could go on and on, but she pushes to her feet instead and looks at Edyis. "Did you eat? I haven't. I'm ravenous." But she's already, despite the other girl's answer, trying to loop her arm through Edyis' and make for the caverns. Sailors be damned. |
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