Logs:Friendship Expert
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| RL Date: 2 December, 2014 |
| Who: Lycinea, V'ros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lya and V'ros only make the air worse when they attempt to clear it after the beach trip debacle. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 6, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Teenagers. Back-dated. |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs.
Just another dragonrider, just another day in the Weyr, sorting through old records and bundling them off to the nearest table. Instead of looking where he is, and who is sitting down at the table he chooses, V'ros sets his reading material down and drags his chair forward with the toe of his boot. He sits heavily and pulls out the topmost hide to read, his forehead creased in concentration, his eyes scanning the page thoroughly. But he's still adjusting his posture to the most comfortable one, and in the process, bumps an elbow into the side of the table, which jerks it, and makes the brownrider swear. "Gre-e-eat." Lya's mutter that is not quite under her breath when her table jerks and a quick glare up pins V'ros as the source. "Can't you be a damper on someone else's day?" Maybe this is half the reason they haven't spoken since she fled the bowl after the botched beach trip. Shocked brown eyes fly up to Lycinea's face. "Shit," Vros mutters under his breath, sucking in another stuttering one. "I was just.. I needed to read some.. I made a bet." He cringes and gestures to the stack of musty, old hides on his end of the table. There's a wariness to his expression that conveys misrepresented feelings since their beach trip, and more than likely, a bevy of unspoken words that will never be spoken. Lya sighs. It's the sigh of one unwilling conferring great favor. "Fiiine." He can stay. "Don't knock the table. I'm studying for my exam." Then she puts her 'study' face back on and directs her eyes to the materials in front of her, only flicking her eyes to look at him once-- twice-- at most five times in the coming moments. "What did you bet?" Because apparently she can't help herself. Continuing the conversation once she's dismissed him could very well end in disaster, and V'ros at least has a desire to keep his life. He clears his throat and goes back to studying his hides, only to glance up when she addresses him again. "Just.. I need to find the names of the Wingleaders of all the wings from a hundred turns ago," he shrugs nonchalantly - no biggie. "I'll get.." another throat clear, eyes dropping to his material, "..don't worry about it." "I'm not worried about it," Lya replies, as if the notion were simply beyond ridiculous. "I just wanted to know. Weren't we trying to be friends? I thought friends tell each other things." That's twisting things a bit. The blonde might want to mind she doesn't get bound up in a knot. It's not like she's volunteering what she's being so studious about after all. "We were." Mild confusion quirks his brow, his posture shifting to straight versus slouched. "You wanted to leave Ista." V'ros eyes the blonde girl warily. "I thought.. we were done being nice." Summarily, even. "So, let me get this straight," Lya closes a book audibly if not loudly. She was probably just done with it. "I don't want to stay at the beach, my first beach ever, with you after retching on your dragon and while you were being a buzzkill and obviously didn't really want to be there, thereby saving you from a day of being somewhere you didn't want to be, and we're not friends anymore?" She frowns. "I don't know much about being friends, but it seems like you don't stop being one just because someone does you a favor and lets you out of something you don't want to do." She pauses to cross her arms over her chest. "But you've got all those friends," presumably she means the people she's seen him at the lake with, "So you're the expert here. You tell me. Is that how it works?" Knuckles brush incessantly at the side of the brownrider's head, his brown eyes ducking Lycinea's. "No," V'ros draws out, "friends don't take trips to Ista for granted. Especially when the other people had to pull strings to get her there." His gaze, does, settle on her, with a frown tugging down his mouth in a lopsided sort of way. "I didn't mind. I don't like beaches, but I did it." And there he leaves it, still frowning in that irritatingly downcast way of his. It would be nice, better even, if Lycinea took a moment to really think about what the brownrider says, but no such luck. "So we'd be better off now if we'd both moped our way through a day at the beach? Would that have made you feel like I appreciated it more even though the only reason it sucked was because you made me feel like an idiot for ever wanting to be there?" The other book is closed and she shifts them so they're stacked before starting to roll her notes upon themselves. "We'd be better if you took it for what it was. A peace offering," V'ros sighs, and, without giving much of a warning, stands up. He collects his stack of hides and secures them under one arm, giving Lycinea a baleful look from his vantage point. "It would've been nice." His shoulders lift in another shrug, his eyes falling away. "I'll see you around." One final, if exceedingly brief, glance flicks to the blonde before he turns to leave, doubtless to find another research nook with less hostile occupants. Now Lya's confused, "Were we not at peace before that?" Only then he's getting up, which was going to be her move, when she was good and ready for it. "No, you won't." She hurries to put in, standing, "I'm leaving." Just in case this matters. A short look over his shoulder. "Okay." But V'ros' already moving towards the back of the records room, ducking under the inconvenient ladder someone's placed near a shelf. |
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