Logs:Frigid
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| RL Date: 16 October, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and H'vier spend turnover arguing over a mutual friend. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cold, snowy. |
| Mentions: Lycinea/Mentions |
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| Just beyond the cavern walls, Turnover festivities are in full swing. Tents and vendors, liquor and food. Ice skating for the brave, mingling for the social. But inside the caverns, where it's warm and dry, there's regularity and safety of normalcy. A few lower cavern workers are still manning the kitchens, serving up lukewarm finger foods and warm non-alcoholic beverages. Farideh is here, occupying the end of one of the dining tables, sitting in her favorite cross-legged position on the seat. She's bundled up in a sweater, a blanket over her lap, and she's thumb through sketches in a stack of tattered-looking hides. To the right of her arm, she's got a steaming mug of something, possibly klah, that she's yet to touch. Few other people meander through the caverns, the masses having fallen upon the gathering outside. The living cavern isn't really H'vier's favorite place. It's difficult to get a drink refilled. At least, it's difficult to get the sort of drink he's drinking refilled. So the bronzerider brought his own bottle and he's foregoing a cup of some sort entirely. It doesn't seem to be affecting him too much just yet, fortunately, but when he sits down a short ways down the table, he doesn't seem to have noticed Farideh at all. A horribly drunk, horribly clumsy brunette bumps into their table as she's walking by, and immediately dissolves into giggles as she rushes to catch up with her friends. That bump - moving the table - is enough to draw Farideh's disgruntled glare up to the woman, just before she flounces away. Hazel eyes follow her out, and swing back.. there. H'vier. Her gaze stays on the big bronzerider, her elbow finding its way to the table top and her chin, thusly, settling on the fist of that same arm. "Shouldn't you be outside, doing what you guys do on turnover?" Pillaging Holds, carrying off holder women, killing babes whilst they sleep - her voice implies those kinds of things, a tad sarcastic. The bump of the table by the clumsy brunette draws H'vier's gaze, but no comment. It's not until Farideh speaks that he looks in her direction, eyes narrowing for a thoughtful moment before a slow grin spreads across his lips. It's tolerant more than friendly. "Probably. Shouldn't you be outside doing what you women do all the time?" Taking advantage of poor men like himself, no doubt. H'vier's smile is tolerant, but Farideh's is genuine. "I don't like the cold." Her reply is succinct, her eyes never leaving the bronzerider's face. One brow arches, for his rhetorical question, and the corners of her mouth curve upwards winsomely. "What is it that we do?" "Perhaps you should move to a warmer climate. I'd be happy to take you there myself." Just in case she's in need of a ride. "You tempt men away from using their better judgment. But you know that already." H'vier is quite sure of that. His eyes are on his bottle again and he says, "This is how I stay warm," before taking another drink. "Warm weather isn't.. good, for my health," Farideh says with the same beatific smile in place, that easily slips into a pout. "Are you that eager to see me go?" Her question is spoken in an innocent tone, complemented by a fake batting of eyelashes. She drops her arm to her lap, humor crinkling the corners of her eyes, and laughs lightly. "I don't think I do. Men are quite capable of making their own decisions. No woman leads a man who doesn't want to be led." His method earns a wrinkling of her nose; it's all his. "No, I suppose not," the bronzerider admits. "I kind of like having you around. When you aren't being frigid. There's enough of that in the weather. I wouldn't miss you, though." Just like Farideh wouldn't miss him, obviously. That's not the way their relationship is. Certainly not from H'vier's perspective. Farideh's smile is warm and approving; correct answer. "I don't have any plans to leave anytime soon." She picks up her mug of steamy beverage and blows on it, long enough to let a comfortable silence settle. "So, why aren't you?" Her eyes flick back up to H'vier. "Out there, mingling. With your wing, your people." "My wing sees enough of me. Tonight is theirs." To have whatever fun they can possibly manage without his presence. Which leaves H'vier to himself. It's probably a wonder he's in public at all and not holed away alone in his weyr as seems to be a growing trend of late. "How considerate." The steam keeps curling up from her cup and Farideh keeps blowing, letting another length of silence fall while she waits for her beverage to be drinkable. She's managed one sip, before setting it down on the table. "Seen Lya lately?" she queries, clearly trying to make a stab at hospitable conversation and tragically failing; their strengths like in other areas. "I don't go out of my way to see her. But she keeps showing up." H'vier doesn't seem sure how he should feel about that. She's one of his stranger relationships. "I probably should have gone to see her tonight since I funded her costume. But I could probably get her to give me a private show." And, really, for as disgusting as he can be, the way he says that is downright chaste. Disapproval pinches Farideh's face-- "That was a waste. You know some young stud who can't take his hands off of her just going to.. take it off of her." She lifts one eyebrow, letting her eyes rake H'vier with a 'just wait and see' look. "I didn't do it so she'd fuck me. If she wants some young stud to put his hands all over her, that's her business." H'vier even says it with a straight face. "But I don't see her wanting that, so I think we're all safe." "You are taking a huge chance with that one. What if she gets drunk and someone takes advantage of her? What if someone forces themselves on her? I know how you dragonriders get with dragons and flights," as she's moving her hand around above her head, like that's similar to a dragon. Farideh isn't convinced of the safety of the masquerade and H'vier's judgment; someone has sisterly feelings towards a blonde she purportedly dislikes at the moment, look at that. "I told her not to go," she says at last, frowning. "No one will touch her. And if they do, maybe she shouldn't wear dresses to parties." And maybe he'll bash their heads in. Because if anyone is going to force themselves on the girls he has weird feelings for, it will be him. H'vier eyes Farideh for a moment before he takes another drink, then asks, "Is that why you really didn't go?" "Or maybe she should have real friends who don't buy her dresses to wear to parties." Farideh pulls a face, one that's not quite a smile and not quite a frown, but a mixture of the two that implies her lack of agreement. "She would be wearing rags right now if it weren't for you, and no one would be paying any more attention to her as any other time, though I do have to wonder what she chose to wear." Vaguely interested. "Hm? I told you, I don't like the cold. Besides, masquerades at a Weyr are just a ridiculous idea." "I didn't buy her this dress, exactly," H'vier admits now. "She won the marks for it fair and square. I haven't seen it at all." So obviously it's not his fault. "And I doubt she'd be wearing any of it if she didn't want the attention. I offered to buy you something nice, didn't I?" Not that Farideh dresses like Lya. But he probably meant to offer if he didn't anyway. Farideh gives H'vier 'the eye'; she's not buying his story. "Lya is sixteen. I don't think she understands the full force of that specific attention, and," here, she leans forward and studies the bronzerider, "she shouldn't be some rider's consolation prize." But, about her clothing he offered to buy: "Really? I doubt itsy bitsy lacy things would keep me from freezing to death or being felt up by everyone out there." That's what she thinks of his offer. "Is she?" asks H'vier like maybe her age is actually news to him. "I'm sure she understands just fine. It's not like I haven't tried to fuck her." It's said casually but he does look at Farideh as he says it. "You seem to like--" H'vier catches himself mid sentence, smiles, and amends, "You're right. Sorry for offering." Something that he says - or is it the way he says it - creates a sour expression on the laundress' face. She doesn't say a word, but gathers her things and gets up from her seat, leaving the now-lukewarm beverage on the table. "Screw you," Farideh imparts at last, before turning and making her way back towards the inner caverns. So H'vier tries to not be a lech and still manages to piss off the woman he's talking to. Talk about a lack of positive reinforcement! The bronzerider turns his head to watch her as she goes, frowning like he has no idea what he said to set her off. |
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