Logs:Girl Language
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| RL Date: 30 November, 2013 |
| Who: Ali, N'rov, Iska |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'rov visits. Ali lays down some rules for Uncle N'rov. |
| Where: Ali's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 5, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'muir/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions, Reyvar/Mentions |
| It's late afternoon, and as usual Isyath's circling high above the Weyr. Her now-regular morning grump long forgotten in favor of the spring thermals that rise above the bowl, pulling in various dragons with pointed comments of just how /nice/ the skies are today. Inside Ali's weyr, the hearth burns low, just enough to keep the chill off; Iska's sleeping in her cot cuddling the stuffed firelizard toy (because it's day and she's most awake at night), while Ali's seated at the table, hidework in front of her. She's not /meant/ to be back at work yet, so maybe it's just sneaky work, which is something she'd totally do. "Why isn't it warmer in here?" N'rov asks as he limps his way in, though at least he does it /more or less/ quietly. Even if he is dripping. Vhaeryth seems to have been convinced that the skies are indeed /nice/, given how he's back to flying up there too, but his rider, not so much; he's still got his hood up for the most part, though then again, that could be to try and add ominous shadow to his expression. "Careful." N'rov pushes his hood back, which conveniently also reveals now-narrowed eyes. "I did notice that," he remarks about the rain, never mind the other question just yet; he manages to walk stiffly over to the hearth /without/ limping, though the muscles have tightened in his jaw. Only when he's there, turning his back to the flames so it can steam, "I may have gotten new workboots," which is to say, not one of his more dapper pairs, "and I /may/ have run out of socks." He eyes her. "They weren't so bad before." "...you ran out of socks?" Surely Ali doesn't believe that, if her dubious expression is anything to judge by. She follows him over, holding out a hand to the hearth to make sure it's warm enough, before she reaches for the pot sitting on the top. Pouring a mug of tea for him, she says, "Vhaeryth seems happy." It's hard to say whether it's a deliberate comment on N'rov's own mood or not. "Do you want to hold a tiny baby girl? I hear it's good for soothing the savage beast. It's about time I woke her up- I'm trying to get her up earlier, shift her sleep times a little." Because that's worked so well up until now. "Clean socks." N'rov shrugs, slouching. He does take his gloves off and reach for the mug, though. "He is. /He/ doesn't have to deal with people sucking up to N'muir. You heard about the wings?As for 'want,'" he turns the mug around in his hands, warming them, "that's a strong word. I could. /Or/ I could show you my blisters, if you aren't hungry," he inquires with an amused lift of his brows. "Why..." Ali's expression of frustration is evidenced in her face, even if it takes her a moment longer to come up with the words: "You will, later. Me, or the healers. Such a /boy/." There's a roll of her eyes skywards, as she drags one of the chairs close to the hearth, gesturing for N'rov to take it. "The wings? No. I'm- I don't hear much gossip in here, and I was using Iska's sleeping time to catch up on some work. Issy wouldn't share unless she found it interesting," which apparently she didn't. "Tell me?" she says, as she pours herself some tea, too. "Do you /really/ want to know," N'rov more says than asks, then rolls /his/ eyes. He might even finish his imitation before she brings the chair around to see, but either way, he settles into that chair as though it were a Lord's own seat. "Well, all right. So you heard about the weyrmate swap? T'rien to Yu'bin, and I don't know what she was thinking, but whatever. I don't blame Issy for not thinking it's so interesting, even if it did earn me a pretty mark in side bets." "You were betting on it?" Ali honestly shouldn't sound so surprised, and yet she does. She seems content to stand for now, hands wrapped around her mug. "No, you're right- I probably don't want to know. That's the sort of Harper tales I used to read about, where eventually they get back together and everyone's happy for some unknown reason. I'm surprised N'muir hasn't had them assigned to dawn watch yet." "Well, when the arguments started through the wings," N'rov shrugs: what's a man to do? He tests his tea with a finger, then winces. As long as he's letting it cool anyway, "Same here. But what he /did/ do was, and why don't you get more news, anyway? ...swap out /wingseconds/. Plus, Yu'bin got kicked over to Flint, T'rien got kicked who-knows-where. I didn't hear about anything happening with the girl, she could be off with T'rien for all I know. Hence the sucking up. Shells, /I/ got asked if I wanted the job." "With Iska's sleep cycle I miss the evening meals these days, which is when most of it gets around. And- the recordskeepers used to be the best source of information for me." She shrugs, a little embarrassed. "I mean- Rey hears most of it, but he's been so busy with his new job. I'm just grateful he's out of trouble." Her eyes cut towards the hides as she says it, kind of distractedly, like she's not even aware she's doing it. "Good, that lot could use some shaking up. It's for the- wait, N'muir wanted you for wingsecond?" That gets her full attention, with half-mouth expression of surprise. "So they should stop by. Out of trouble, huh?" N'rov's the one to sound dubious this time. Also, darkly, "You don't have to sound so surprised." He sets the mug on his knee, warming the joint, but also keeping it further away from him. "No, not N'muir. He's /got/ two. Ebeny wanted to know if I'd aim to take over one of the other wings, or at least 'second one, like the others. Speaking of Ebeny, though," but he considers her rather than going on. "I think Hattie threatened them with- something horrible- if they dared sneak a single hide towards me," Ali's laughing, now, though it doesn't mean she's any less genuine for all that. She holds up one hand, apologetic: "Sorry. But- you've never shown an inclination, so it seems kind of a stretch for N'muir to-" and then realization creeps across her expression. "Oh. Ebeny?" that she sounds surprised about, as well. "Huh. I wouldn't have thought... maybe she just wanted to sound you out?" There's a slight frown of distracted thought, before her gaze flickers to meet N'rov's, quizzically. "I went by yesterday, but she was sleeping. The girls look so... small, compared to Iska." "I accept your apology," N'rov informs Ali. "Except what counts as an inclination, sucking up? But yeah, probably that's what she was after, except she sounded... almost positive. It was strange." He shrugs again, gets back to what he was going to say. "She looks kind of a mess, too, between you and me. Like she hadn't gotten clean in a seven," not that N'rov's so familiar with Ebeny's usual habits. "Know anyone who could straight-arm her into cleaning up some? Normally I'd pick on E'dre," but given the givens. "Made me glad /you/ didn't go through it, with her." He's looking at her quite directly. Ali's frowning in thought. "Why not E'dre? He'd be the best for it- Ebeny doesn't... getting healers to do it wouldn't help much. Other than him- maybe one of her assistants?" Is that why she's looking pointedly at N'rov? Hard to say. "I'm not sure whether I'd help or hinder- given things have been easy by comparison for me." While N'rov looks at her, the dark-haired woman's looking over towards Iska's cot. "The first thing I asked K'del was whether he had any twins in his background," a brief, fleeting smile, before he looks back. "It wasn't that bad for me," except for the lack of sleep, the grumpiness, the late night requests for food- all of which N'rov probably heard about from E'ten during his High Reaches stint. "And Iska... other than her sleeping habits, it's hard to complain. She's perfect." That smile is fond, warm- content. "Because," how much can N'rov say, and not violate the Code? "It's not like /he's/ all happy and lying on the beach, eating dessert twice a night," he finally says. "And why are you looking at me like that... aw, Ali. You're not biased at /all/. And you weren't grumpy and demanding at all, either, at least that's what I've heard. How much do you really want work, and how much do you want to lock yourself in here forever and ever with her?" "What are you- what do you mean?" About E'dre, presumably, since Ali's brow is furrowed in something that might be concern, especially given the issues at Fort of late. There's a brief flicker of a smile at his verbal support, though it's fleeting. "You've gotten better at lying. And- if I had the choice I'd just spend it with her all day. But- Hattie's been keeping everything together and she's- she's worried about Elaruth." Judging by the dark-haired woman's exhale, she's not the only one- at least /now/. "I'll need to talk with her about returning to my duties soon." "You just gave me this strange look," is what N'rov seems to choose to interpret it as. "Your eyes got all squinty," which might be exaggeration. It's his turn to look towards the cradle where the little creature sleeps, so innocent-looking and yet so life-warping for her mother. But back to Ali with new concern of his own, though he takes an automatic drink from the luckily-cooler tea first, "What's to worry about Elaruth? The whole fight thing, that was way back before my time, even." Forever! Somehow, N'rov manages to neatly derail Ali from her line of inquiry around E'dre. Probably has something to do with sleeplessness and baby brain and, well, "I did /not/ just give you a squinty-eyed look." Now she's giving him a cross look, instead. But the talk of Elaruth makes her exhale and set her tea down. "She's- Elaruth hasn't risen yet. It's been over two and a half Turns, which is unusual for her. She's worried people will start talking, that Issy might rise before her. I tried to tell her that- with Boll, and everything with Nehmet, it's natural, but she's- she's obviously been thinking about it a lot. And did /you/ know N'muir gave her a ring? Why didn't you tell me?" Because clearly N'rov is the Weyrleader's confidant. "Sort of like that one, only not," N'rov points out, and /he's/ smiling even if she isn't. Even if his own smile dissipates as she continues. "What you say, it makes sense to me. Even if Issy," he glances upward, towards where the Star Stones must be, but doesn't complete the thought. "And it's not like worrying more's going to do any good, right?" as though it were that easy. As for the jewelry, and if that lets her think he's such a confidant then so be it, "Because for all I know he gives her jewelry every day of the seven. What's so special about this one?" The cross-face turns into a tongue-stuck-out face pretty quickly. There's a brief fussing from the direction of the cot that has the goldrider striding quickly over to check on Iska, but after adjusting the blanket, Ali returns, albeit more slowly, and to a seat nearer the table than the hearthside. She, too, seems content to gloss over the comment of Issy: "It doesn't do any good, but it doesn't mean it's easy for her to ignore, now that the thought's in her head. If- if you start to hear whispers about it, you'll let me know?" With a /look/, a little more inscrutable than the others, she says, "It means it's permanent, for them." "Don't let your daughter see you with that face," N'rov summons a dark sort of cheer long enough to warn. He adjusts his chair so he's back to facing her again, letting that side dry off, warm enough by now that he can let his legs sprawl to take up some of the space she'd abandoned. "If I start to hear whispers," he agrees, "I'll let you know." And, "What's /that/ look supposed to mean? And how come it's that ring that does it?" He pauses, narrower-eyed. "Wait. This isn't some girl language where any old ring will do, will it?" "Better my face than your face," comes Ali's quick retort. N'rov's further questions earns another squinty-eyed look from the dark-haired woman, like she's not sure why /he's/ not sure what the significance of that is. "Girl language," she agrees. "But- it's a good thing. For them. For all of us." Her relationship with Hattie has been strained for a while- but she's smiling, now. "/I/ don't have any daughters to terrify, so /I/ can look however I want," N'rov claims, and gets squinty right back at her. "So that means that it /is/ permanent, or she're still deciding? And what if she throws it in his face someday? And does the ring have inscribed on it 'Property of N'muir,' or what? It's not like it's a proper marriage mark." "Yes, but you now have a niece whom you can, so I'd better not catch you at it. Otherwise I'll teach her to like Uncle E'ten better." There's even a waggle of Ali's finger in the bronzerider's direction in warning. Her expression quickly mutates into something close to bemusement. "Riders /can't/ marry, so it means whatever they want it to mean. And for them, it means /permanent/. Just be happy for them, okay?" "I've had a niece for..." Abruptly N'rov laughs, realizing. "You can try. /I'll/ take her to all the /fun/ places." Which doesn't mean he's forgotten the rest, since he goes on to say, "Fine, fine, I'll be happy, and does this mean you two are getting on better now? And," as long as they're on the subject and he might be able to get away with it, "are you looking for your Reachian to give you a ring-a-ding-ding too? Maybe I should get Shani a bracelet. There's more room to write that way." "No bars." That's a definite no-no, and not something Ali felt she had to warn E'ten about, either. As for Hattie, there's a brief hesitation, and a tentative smile. "I- I think so. You know she knitted a blanket for Iska? It's beautiful." A glance Iska-wards, then, "We're still not- things are better," she settles for. It's the latter that makes her stand, abruptly, arms folded. "I wish you wouldn't joke about that. /K'del/ is the father of my child, and he's- he's important to me, and it's hard enough that the Weyrleaders barely tolerate him at best. I'd rather not lock you in a room so you can dry-hump each other, but if that's what it takes for you to get over whatever it is-" she's got a considering look on her face. It's... a blanket. N'rov's just starting to look politely happy for her, and maybe it's just as well that Ali starts in before he can say something that isn't properly flattering to a personally-made rainbow of a peace offering. She stands tall, he slouches more, just so he can grin up at her. Of course, that means it's all too visible how his jaw drops when she goes on about, "You /know/ that word?" The chair squeaks beneath him but his tongue must start to recover before the still flabbergasted-looking rest of him because, "All /four/ of us? Well, in that case. Dibs on Hattie." It's very possible that Ali actually looks pleased that she caught N'rov off guard. "No, you're right. Hattie would win." Fort's junior is quick enough to concede /that/ point to her senior. "And yes, I have /brothers/, okay." There might be a shade of a smile, there. A wailing sets up from the cot, and after a pause for inspection, "Oh- I think it's uncle N'rov's turn for nappy changing." Whether that's intended to scare him off or not is hard to tell; she's lifting Iska up and bringing him towards the bronzerider, either way. 'Win.' Now N'rov's looking puzzled, not that that lasts, not when he can make a show of cringing back in the chair until it tips onto its back legs. Thrusting his hands forward to fend the creature off. "No, not the nappies! Anything but that! Almost anything!" "Fine then. You get Reyvar duty. You don't have to change his nappy but you might get almost as dirty." It's really just impossible to tell whether Ali's joking or not, giving her attention and gaze is on Iska rather than him. "He'll be up at Dice. Just make sure he's not partaking of the stock and he's playing nice with the patrons, and throw out anyone making a fuss." Because apparently that's something she was going to do in place of changing Iska's nappy. "I'll try and have some supper ready when you get back. Deal?" And the chair legs thud back. Apparently it beats Ali's earlier suggestion, too, or N'rov's used to it by now; with a groan, "Fine." He sets down the mug once he's out of the chair, even pulls his gloves back on; he /also/ says with a smirk, right before he hastens out of there, "Just wash your hands first." With that, he's laughing all the way to the ledge, and maybe even beyond. "No promises," comes drifting out the weyr after him. |
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