Logs:Gifts of Commiseration
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| RL Date: 10 April, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis visits Irianke late at night and brings some gifts. |
| Where: Irianke's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| It is a summer night, 23:24 of day 1, month 7, turn 37 of Interval 10. It is late at an hour when most people are sleeping. But the gleam of lights lit within sneak past the curtain that separates ledge from weyr and is a betrayal in the dark summer night of the wakeful state of the occupant within. At the very least, once recently awake state. Inside the weyr, Irianke is, indeed, awake, dressed for sleep in a flimsy nightgown with a loose summer robe over her shoulders. Tall stacks take up her table, and it's there she sits, reading through a pair of narrow spectacles. Edyis has never been one for sleeping normal hours, but perhaps of late even less so. Still, the candidate does pause at the entry way, knocking to announce her presence. She still seems dressed for the day, in a rather loosely fit tunic, with the usual satchel over her shoulder, though it seems particularly laden this night. "Weyrwoman?" Comes softly, and uncertain. It's a testament to what a weird week it's been that Irianke doesn't startle at the visitor, though a hand crosses over one eye to rub at it tiredly before she puts her game face on and calls out, "Come on in," in a warm welcome. She pulls the robe slightly tighter over her shoulders and resecures the tie belt about her waist. The work she was working on is set down and the arrival is given her undivided attention. Her brows draw together faintly, as she steps into the weyr proper. "Don't worry, not an official visit." She murmurs softly before explaining; "Sorry, I saw your light on, and with everything that has happened... I thought..." She fishes in the bag as she steps over to the table. Three bottles are produced, one appears to be a good quality white wine, the second a red of similar quality and the third might be recognizable as spiced rum, of a similar kind to what was delivered to the weyrwoman months ago. "I didn't know what your preference was." She explains a little sheepish. "For what it's worth, I am both glad you are here and sorry for the mess that you've inherited." This was surely not something Irianke expected and with each bottle that is set down the goldrider's nose flares inscrutably. "That's," she looks at the offerings and smiles wanly at Edyis, "That's very kind of you but I'm not sure what I did to deserve any of these gifts. Please, have a seat. Would you like some water? Tea?" "It's not a gift." She comments with a dark chuckle, "Condolences, congratulations, and perhaps the removal of temptation?" The younger woman offers, settling into a seat. "I'm fine thank you for the kind offer though." She purses her lips a moment. "I am sorry if it seems a bit much or is unwelcome. It's difficult to figure out what to say when someone becomes Weyrwoman. Especially in a situation such as this one." "Acting," denotes Irianke with a little distance, much as if she were trying to convince herself of that and failing. "It's not unwelcome, but I'm finding it's difficult to find a time to enjoy a quiet drink like I used to." As for the situation that put her in this position, the goldrider says nothing, merely casting her gaze down to look at the table's edge and up once more with mouth pressed firmly into the we must be brave sort of look. She doesn't press, but it's there, in the hooked brow that lifts, was this why you came to visit? "Yes. Well, that and to wish you the best of luck. " With all of it, or with the acting she doesn't clarify. With a lift and fall of her shoulders, as for acting; the scribe's mouth twists a little. "I can depart now if you prefer the quiet to get back to work." Already pulling to her feet, "Isn't like you can unload your cares on a candidate or anything of that nature, there are conventions to uphold." She smiles, "But I hope that they help." She says of the bottles, making ready to depart. Irianke listens, intent on what Edyis is saying, or perhaps less on what she says and what is left unsaid. The young woman's smile she ignores, her dark blue eyes glimmering when she looks up to follow the candidate's movements. "How are you doing, Edyis?" See, she remembers her name. "I was only here a short while, not long enough to be as impacted as those who have been here turns, all their lives. How are you?" Edyis seems to pause to consider the question, "I suppose I am as I have always been. Learning how to adapt to what seem like impossible changes." A thumb runs under the strap of the satchel, "Even here, or perhaps especially here; change seems inevitable." "A non-answer," says the queen of non-answers. "How are you, Edyis? Cause frankly," continues Irianke, "Life seems to be a bitch for most people here." Dark eyes study the goldrider then, both brows rising as she struggles to suppress the faintest hint of a smile. "I am surviving Irianke." She purses her lips faintly, then. "Is that the only thing you see when you look at Reaches? Bad omens, and curses?" Irianke's response takes a long time coming, a thoughtful purse of her lips concluding in a shallow swallow. She doesn't rise from her seat, sitting back into her chair like a lady holding court, and regards Edyis with level, steady blue eyes. "It's what is spoken across Pern of High Reaches." Non-answer. "I see a Weyr with spirit to survive and push back that needs stability and a caring, rather than loving, hand." An answer. "Take care of yourself, Edyis." "What is spoken of High Reaches, could fill volumes without ever touching on the true nature of her." The scribe's mouth twitches "Something is only ever cursed if you choose to believe it so. You take care as well Irianke of High Reaches." The former scribe departing without another word. The moniker brings more of that inscrutable look to Irianke's face, but recognizable among it is acceptance. She says nothing further and returns to her work after a few moments of silent contemplation, one interspersed with deep sighs of resignation and the mouthed word acting. |
Comments
Alida (03:22, 12 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Reaches seems to 'coax' people to adopt many different veneers to just survive.
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