Logs:Gossip and Gifts
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| RL Date: 17 October, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, X'vae |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vae and Farideh meet; no one is scared, no one is snarked at, it's an amazingly friendly exchange. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Heavy rain in the middle of winter only means that the temperature is only a few degrees above freezing; it's more miserable for the soaking torrents. |
| Mentions: Edeline/Mentions, Harlie/Mentions, J'taryn/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Miule/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
A gaggle of laundresses have claimed one end of a long table, each eagerly relaying the gossip they've heard for the day. "Lady Miule.. yeah, Miule, not mule.." "A hunnerd harpers all'n blue!" "That blonde weyrling girl.. the one with the sassy mouth.." and on and on it goes. Less talkative than her peers, poking at a pile of greens with her fork, Farideh is on the end, next to a couple empty spaces and on the other side, a bunch of mixed-wing riders. She's got her arm balanced on the table, head set on her hand, as she keeps poke-poking at her food with an absent expression. Lessa herself could sit down next to her and she probably wouldn't notice, so preoccupied is the brunette. X'vae could, perhaps should, find his way to the Alpine table where surely his new wingmates would make space for him, but for one reason or another, he finds himself, once his plate is in hand, near the table with the talk of Ista. His Monocoan-styled leathers, for all their concealed padding, and 'Reaches shoulderknot mark him as not the average fellow. He glances down the length of the table, but from behind the empty chair across from Farideh, it's the brunette he addresses with a congenial smile. "Do you mind?" At least he has manners, that has to be a good thing in a dining companion, doesn't it? The food on his plate is arranged with care, too, so maybe he's not likely to be a slob putting it in his gob either. The fork scrapes against the plate, making a discordant sound that irritates Farideh's neighbor; there's an elbow-y type of shove, wherein the laundress looks up sharply from her daydreaming, only to glare at the aggressor. But X'vae interrupts what would be a short altercation. "No," she says blandly, not bothering to return the smile. Apprehension creeps into her face as she starts glancing around - not noticing anyone in the general vicinity who would attract the bluerider to where she sits. She wrinkles her nose and folds her arms on top of the table, setting her fork aside. "As you please." Eyes fastened solely on X'vae, not suspicious or.. any other emotion, really, except watchfulness. X'vae's more green today gaze follows Farideh's about, "Not going to scare off your suitors, am I?" His baritone is light with good humored teasing as he settles across from her, lifting his fork to gesture in the direction of a good looking blonde bronzerider from Igen some tables away engaged in conversation with the assistant headwoman beside him, whose blue eyes range regularly back to Farideh and linger. "I'm X'vae," he offers guilelessly, "Or Xev, if you prefer." Suspicion switches to muddled surprise mixed with humor; that is, until she twists around to see just who it is he is gesturing to - an Igen bronzerider. Farideh's amusement fades as she faces forward again, her eyes flicking to X'vae without truly seeing him. "Hm," is her immediate response, and once her thoughts are all figured out, she is looking at the bluerider again, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. "X'vae, nice to meet you. I'm Farideh." X'vae's brows furrow thoughtfully as he watches the laundress' face go through the rigamorole of feelings. He might think to ask if he'd said something wrong, but it's impolite to interrupt a woman when she's thinking, isn't it? He holds his tongue until her expression settles and his brow smooths in answer, the easy smile renewed. "Well met, Farideh." Then there's the matter of a topic, "Do you like the chit-chat thing or-" he nods toward the other end of the table, "The gossip thing, or would you like to skip to something more serious? Lady's choice, of course." For topic. "I can do brooding silence too, if you prefer it." Judging from the grin, it's a lie. Laughter comes easily for the young woman, who tries covering her mouth to stifle it; it fails miserably. "You're quite bold." Farideh doesn't sound put off by the fact, rather she seems to enjoy the change of pace from dancing around trivialities. "I do enough chit-chatting during the day, and gossiping too, but if you have something new and interesting," here she shows a wide smile, "I'm all ears." She does work in the laundry, and as everyone knows, laundresses feed on gossip. "Brooding silence is sooo overrated." Her chin plunks back on her fist since she's back to leaning over the edge of the table again. The features of X'vae's face shift themselves into a very serious sort of look, "Yes, I'm afraid I was born that way; a life-long condition." Boldness. The travesty. He grins for the rest, "Can't say as I have much that's interesting. I even missed out on skating at turnover. It's work, work, work lately. Going to have to wrest a day or two of rest away from my new wing to go surfing soon or I'll likely lose my mind. But I do, I'll be sure to tell you first," so she can pass the gossip along. "Bluerider goes mad. Runs wild through the Weyr singing children's song and wearing flowers in his hair." He uses a hand to suggest it as a headline of some missive or another. "Pity," Farideh says with a sigh and a well-placed pout. No gossip, no fodder for gossip. What's a girl supposed to do? "I was hoping you would have juicy. Weyrleader-on-Weyrleader affair. A mysterious murder. Someone spiking the klah pots with fellis." Her lips twist into a frown, her fingers coiling around her chin. "Blueriders going mad aren't so different around here. Flights." She waves a hand in a dismissive way. "Lady Edeline got some-- rosemaled something that she quite liked and there's more being sent up from Monaco Hold?" X'vae tries, apparently eager (if not over-eager) to please. "I'm not sure that can contend with affairs or murders, but-- well, maybe you could get hold of a piece and be a trendsetter here," his green-today gaze sweeps over her, "though I dare say you probably are already." That assumption amuses him. "Lady Edeline," Farideh says on a breath, shooting a glance aside to her neighbor to make sure the other girl isn't listening. "How do you know that?" About the shipment coming up from Monaco. "I wonder.." She taps one finger against her lips, an action that gets stilled as she lets the bluerider finish his tangent - and flattery. Her lips curve into a smile again. This one much more sinuous and gratifying. "I can't say I have much reason or motivation to set anything in a Weyr. Like you said, work work work." Which is to say, she doesn't have time for trendsetting when she's up to her elbows in other people's intimates. "I have my ways," X'vae answers, all mysterious. But then, no, he grins, "Your-- our weyrleader drives a hard bargain for making transfers prove themselves useful beyond their ability to stay seated on their dragons." He starts in on his meal but doesn't talk with his mouthful. "Z'riah-- my best-friend-- and I had a hand in things. But the rumors are all over the docks at SeaCraft now." He leans a little closer, "Well, if not you, perhaps you can use it to earn points with the right person so there will be less work? Or something else useful?" He suggests with a slight raise of his brows. "What sort of work do you do here, Farideh?" Mention of K'del earns the bluerider a lip purse, but not a hateful word leaves her mouth about their fearless blonde leader.. this time. "That sounds familiar," Farideh says, about his best friend, "I meet so many people I don't know how I'm supposed to keep up." It's there that goes back to semi-pouting, hazel eyes all for X'vae and no one else in this moment. "The woman in charge," eyes dragging to the side, "knows as much about personal hygiene as a runner." Her smile is less kind this time, her sigh lengthy. There will be no bribing. Not for lack of trying previously. "I work in the laundry." "I know the feeling," is empathized. "I only transferred in two months back and it's all I can do to try to keep my wingmates and their dragons straight." For all that he feigns his own moue, the good humor is a constant undercurrent. "Do you?" X'vae asks, opting to skip the more unpleasant topics just now; after all, they've only just met. "I'm in the habit of bringing laundresses presents from time to time." It seems like a sound practice when they're handling one's delicates. "What sorts of gifts are you partial to, Farideh?" Gifts? Don't mind if she do! "What am I partial to.. hm. I like pretty things." That sure narrows the list down, thank you Farideh. "You're a smart man, I'm sure you can figure something out." Down the table, women are picking up their plates and bringing them back to the kitchens for washing; real polite like, these laundresses. Farideh notices the movement and rolls her eyes. "We're leaving." She lets that sink in and offers a saccharine smile. "It was nice to meet you, X'vae. Let's do this again sometime soon." And then she's up, hurrying to follow her fellows with her barely-touched plate. "And you, Farideh," is about all X'vae has time for given that he has to quickly finish chewing and swallow the forkful he'd just eaten when the exodus began. "Pretty things," might be heard in thoughtful repeat as she makes her retreat. He is a smart man (mostly), so he'll spend the rest of his meal figuring it out, or giving it the ol' weyrlinghood try. |
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