Logs:Insult To Injury
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| RL Date: 21 December, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea, Z'riah, Tomic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two girls take an afternoon stroll, and happen upon a wheelbarrow and a runner. |
| Where: Outside High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 8, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm. |
| Mentions: Wulfan/Mentions, Joremy/Mentions, Weylaughn/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions |
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>---< Outside High Reaches Weyr >--------------------------------------------<
Impressive enough at a distance, up close, the sheer size of the mountain
is imposing -- to the vulnerable, overwhelming -- the more so as its crown
of spires, distinguishing High Reaches from every other Weyr on Pern,
thrusts long fingers of rock into the sky.
The plateau just short of the Weyr's shadowy entrance can seem very small
and very flat at the best of times, pinned as it is against the side of
the mountain, but at least it's a refuge from the narrow, tight-kinked
road that has to twist its way through the rest of the mountain range to
reach the rest of Pern.
Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly
warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the
air.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Farideh F 18 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Weyr Entrance Stables High Reaches Area
>--------------------------------------< 7D 8M 36T I10, summer afternoon >---< Rukbat has started its descent on this summer evening, and what light remains is gilded, reaching out over the wilderness on the other side of High Reaches' mountains. Two of the Weyr's lower cavern girls are on their way out of the Weyr's expansive entrance; they move with slow strides, at a relaxed pace and speak in soft murmurs that wouldn't carry to other ears. Farideh suggested this sojourn just this afternoon, growing tired of being cooped up within the confines of the caverns and their gloomy stone walls. She, now, has a contented quality to her gait, and overall appears more relaxed than in previous days. Wearing a loose olive wrap-around blouse and black pants, she kicks at a rock on the mountainside road, tugging at the ribbon that holds her braid together. "I don't understand how you've done it all these turns. Don't you wish you lived under the sky, free, out in the world," while she throws her arms wide and embraces a gust of wind that ruffles the fly-aways that frame her moon-shaped face. Lycinea is no less eager to get out away from the Weyr, and given her propensity for airsickness, on foot is her preferred means of travel. She carries a sweater over her arms, just in case they're not back before the coolness of night sets in. "No. The tunnels are safe." Isn't that the whole point? Lya sighs, watching Farideh. "Even without Thread, I mean, there are thieves in Nabol, now, after an army and burning fields. Who would want to chance all that? Or to be on a ship where there are storms that can sink you in a wink?" She shakes her head, "No thanks." Not her. Her friend's gloominess gives her pause, long enough to scud her toe along the dirt and create a circle, if mindlessly. "There are plenty of places besides Nabol, and I don't intend to run into a field or get close to an army." Farideh moves to loop her arm through Lycinea's, offering a bright smile to the other girl. "Haven't you ever just swam in a lake that's not in the Weyr or climbed a tree?" the brunette asks, guilelessly, staring intently at the kitchen aide. "There are orchards with fruit you can pick at Fort and the road through Boll has lovely fields, with all sorts of crops for Weaver. Just to name a few places, because I couldn't name them all, it would take too long." "There are trees by the lake in the Weyr," Lya points out deadpan, but then allows a hint of a smile. "In the summer, sometimes, I go for long walks out here. There are some places to-- well, not swim close by, but. Like, wade. When the snow is melting." She doesn't resist the looping of arms. "I've been to Boll. The once. With that stupid bronzerider." She makes a face, "I don't see what's so nice about places that aren't here." She likes 'Reaches, see? "Fine, trees outside of the Weyr or the immediate Weyr area. A tree somewhere less northern." Though their arms are looped and they're walking in time, together, Farideh bends an unhappy stare on Lycinea. "Do they? You'll have to show me. I do doubt that they're anything compared to Ista or Southern," she muses out loud with a wistful twist on her slight smile. "What stupid bronzerider?" Curious hazel eyes flick to the blonde, searching her face while she waits the answer. "I wouldn't mind," Lya says after some moments of obviously deep consideration, "climbing trees other places. Or going swimming." She reaches her free hand to tuck a lock of hair under the black and white headscarf wrapped around her head. "We can go, when you want. But late spring is best. It's a lot of walking," she warns. Just in case that matters. "Ugh. Aishani's stupid bronzerider. I went with H'vier to weaver about swimsuits, but then he was an asshole so I left, and I ran into Aishani's bronzerider and then he took me to this cothold, and it was weird and his sister-in-law or somebody gave me fashion advice, and I did it all for V'ros and then he was mopey on my surprise make-up-for-my-awful-turnday trip in the end anyway." She rolls her eyes. "I told H'vier he could take me to the beach now. Since I didn't get to go properly. You could come with, if you want." Idea! Great idea! Obviously. Farideh wanted the two minute version of the events of the last six months, right? "I don't mind walking. It's refreshing." Farideh's sunny smile returns on the tail end of her affirmation; swimming and walking and tree climbing! "One day, I'll take you to Igen, and we can find an inlet somewhere or go to a gather or-" She's lost in her own thoughts - no doubt somewhere that there are fancy dresses, hidden intentions, and too many uppity people - and it's Lycinea's mention of the dead goldrider that startles her out of her revelry. "Why do you let yourself get caught up with so many strange people? I didn't know that goldrider had a bronzerider to speak of, or, no one mentioned it in the laundry," the laundress says breezily, and then with a cutting look at the blonde, "No, I don't think I want to be anywhere he is and you shouldn't either. Another strange one." Lycinea's nose wrinkles. "I'm not sure I want to go Igen. They have lepers." Have, had. Same same. "And now isn't there like... all that... unrest? Or something?" Something trickled into the kitchen gossip that wasn't about which goldrider who wasn't his weyrmate recently spent time with K'del. "I guess I like finding strange people. Bronzeriders who want to buy me things, bronzeriders who want to let their sister-in-laws give me advice, brownriders who-" she can't even, "-and Igen holderesses who run away from everything they've ever known to come here of all places." She gives Farideh a teasing smile. Strange people indeed. "There aren't any lepers in the main Holds, Lycinea. Like they would expose their people to that. Be realistic." The brunette has a big, fat eye roll saved up for the other girl, which she executes flawlessly, shaking her head afterwards. "There's-" Lines form between her eyebrows, her mouth pursing likewise. "I don't know. I can't imagine Joremy would do that to his brother, but, there has been rumors of unrest for a while." She leaves that cryptic, her brows furrowing further, her frown lines etching deeper as she stares off at some unseen point in the distance. "It's difficult to rationalize those rumors with-- what I know of home. It seems unlikely. Or foolish. Both?" Her gaze flicks to the side, to Lycinea, "Be careful of men who want to give you something for nothing. That never works out well if the stories I've heard are true. And here-" with a flicker of a smile, "Is good enough. It's far enough. Who would suspect anyone of Blood to linger here, as a laundress of all things?" "Some of us can't be realistic about Holds, Farideh, because from all the news we hear at the Weyr, they're positively ridiculous," the blonde affects the air of someone with status far above that which she actually possesses, an exaggerated imitation to be sure, perhaps reminiscent of those Farideh grew up with. "What do you hear? Your gossip about Igen is probably better than mine since you care about Igen. I'd probably repeat it wrong and still think there are lepers there," which she does, and probably will, forever, no matter what. The air is dropped for this question, contenting herself to pay attention to their route and the rocks and such in their path. "H'vier didn't want to give me something for nothing." Lya does answer this much, "But you're one to talk, maybe like-liking someone like that infernal Weylaughn. Ugh." She gives the brunette a sidelong look that questions not only her taste but her sanity. "That's nonsense. There is a strict code Holds adhere to. Lineage and blood and marriage and etiquette and respect and.." Farideh could go on and on, waxing poetic about the high moral fiber of the Blood system and Holds alike, but she sucks in a breath and lets it out smoothly. "I hear the same that you hear. I don't have ears in Igen, unless I wanted the whole continent to know my location. And what the laundry gets is bits and pieces. Unhappy holders, Wulfan secluded to his quarters, and Joremy's efforts in winning the holders' hearts. That last bit isn't new, Joremy has always been an exemplary man, but-" She purses her lips, again, an obvious sign of her agitation. "Weylaughn is not infernal. Weylaughn is a gentleman and you are just not used to it. He has never been anything but polite to me, even when I was exceedingly rude, something I imagine you have been to him," and Lycinea gets a pointed look, brows lifted above disapproving eyes. "A load of steaming fumets." Lya sums up the strict code with a roll of her eyes. "The way you talk about that shit, you and Weylaughn are a perfect match. He wouldn't tell me anything about his intentions for you, because I'm not one of your stupid Blood. If you want that kind of thing, then you should just go marry him and let him knock you up and just leave." Already Lycinea is looking a little hurt and abandoned and Farideh is still right here, on her arm. "Ugh. I don't think holders can be exemplary men." They just can't. "Lycinea, don't say that, it's hateful. Holds aren't shit and I don't want to run off to marry anyone." Farideh's pout is just as fake as the hurt look she shoots back at the blonde, but she doesn't slow her pace and tugs her elbow closer, pulling her friend into her side more. "They can. Joremy lends his ear to the people and his sympathies to the lepers, a trait you don't possess, so in that, he is exemplary." "I didn't say that Holds are shit," Lya clarifies with a due roll of her eyes. "You're not listening," but she doesn't explain. She said their code and everything that comes with Holds is shit. It's totally different, see? But not explaining probably helps keep them from getting into a bigger fight. "Are you sure Joremy isn't a leper?" Lya inquires with suspicion. "And I tended a leper at his bedside. So there." Okay, so Rhey wasn't really a leper, and it wasn't at his bed side, but she did go to his weyr, so. Same same. Perhaps even more dangerous! Who knows what kind of weird things Rhey has in his weyr. Running is a thing that Z'riah does and sometimes doing it in the bowl is boring. Or distracting to someone like himself. Running outside of the Weyr will be prove just as distracting now as the greenrider starts to come up on the pair of girls doing whatever girly thing they're doing right now. He doesn't make to pass them, though, recognizing at least Farideh's butt, and instead comes up close behind them to fall into step. "Look what I get! Two for one!" "Hup, look out!" They probably might have heard him coming, the squeaky-squeak-squeak of the wheel on the barrow that Tomic is pushing, Weyrbound. He's not running, exactly, but he's coming at a pace, a pace that's dampened his armpits and the hair over his brow. The barrow twists one way, turns, tries to avoid too-big bumps, so that the crate inside, rested on some cloth - that actually looks sort of like clothes - doesn't jostle overmuch. And thens lows. He's not going off-roading with this thing, are you kidding? A loud, over-exaggerated sigh-groan sound issues forth from Farideh after Lycinea's attempt to convince her about lepers. "Have you ever seen a leper? They're covered in horrible sores and they're-" Her mouth screws up and she shakes her head from side to side, not bothering to dignify the rest of that with a reply. "Lord Wulfan wouldn't let him brother walk around the Hold with leprosy. Not even the healers would. They'd shuttle him off to some-" and then there's a runner coming up to them, one that is familiar. "Oh, what the-" This ill-fated greeting is cut short by the schlepper's call and the brunette comes to a halt, tragically perhaps, whipping her head around. Look out? She'll certainly look. "If I was doing my best, your panties would fall off," is claimed for Lya's benefit. Z'riah looks up at the call to look out, but it has him paying a bit less attention to the girls now directly in front of him. When Farideh stops, the greenrider only does the same after he's run into the back of her, arms reflexively reaching out to grab and get them both out of the way of the wheelbarrow before there's much time for him to think about it or its consequences. Lycinea could have even been pulled along, too, if she hadn't jumped ship. Alas! "Hey, man! What you got?" Tomic doesn't even swear, when Farideh stops. He just makes an 'ulp' kind of sound, lunging forward to steady that crate, and banging his knee on the back lip of the wheelbarrow in doing so. He still doesn't swear. Just makes a whimper noise. And offers Farideh, for all her getting in his way, and Lycinea, for her actually getting out of his, and then Z'riah, for all his assistance - albeit once Tomic had already reacted - little smiles, twisted only by the remains of the wince. "A bruise, I think," answers the greenrider. The knee gets rubbed. But he's turning an ear in on the crate, even during. One would think that Farideh would be indignant from being manhandled by someone she obviously dislikes, but he's doing her a favor this time, so all she does is squeak asshe's moved out of the way of the wheelbarrow. Her shoulders come up awkwardly and she stiffens, both out of uncertainty and clear fear - that wheelbarrow sure did come on fast! Letting her breath out in a loud woosh, she fixes her face into a mask of anger. "What do you think you're doing?" this, surprisingly, to Tomic and his off-course barrow. "You could have hurt someone and you did yourself," as she flings a hand out to indicate the large man in question. "You're-- Thomas, right?" "Ew, Zif, ew." Lya says expressively to the greenrider as if that is the end of that, but then there's this whole wheelbarrow thing. "Ouch," isn't exactly a sympathetic noise for Tomic, but she herself is not hurt, so it must be on behalf of his new bruise. She glances across the way to Farideh, lifting a brow in silent inquiry. Are they going? Staying? They wouldn't want to have to help Tomic, would they? A glance toward Z'riah probably means that's what he's for, if it comes to it. Z'riah removes his hands almost as soon as Farideh is out of the way. The way that she doesn't, ultimately, need to be out of, but that surely couldn't have been foreseen. He might back up the dark-haired girl's question, but Lycinea's use of that name, his friend name, makes him look at her instead, brows furrowed in earnest thought. "You were the girl!" he says after a few moments of trying to place her. "Well, shit." Tomic is not anticipating accusations; it shows on his face, suddenly all surprised and confused. "I, uh... I was taking them. Back to the Weyr." There's a vague point toward High Reaches' spires, as if this will help clarify that super-cryptic thing he's just said. "Tomic," he corrects next. Greenrider and blonde girl each get another look. And then he's backing his wheelbarrow up, apparently recovered from his injury, but still down with giving a little extra space. In case of... things. Farideh could comment on the weird side-conversation her friend is having with her quasi-arch nemesis, but Tomic is a more convenient target. "Tomic," she repeats, taking the necessary steps forward to stand exactly in his path, despite the backing up, "you're that guy from the lake that time. With that girl with the hair." They're not leaving, for now; she has more questions for the giant. Her hands setting on the high point of her hips and she gives him a contemplative stare. "What do you do? Are you a gardener?" "Yes?" Lya sounds uncertain as she squints at Z'riah. There's plenty of accusations going around right now. It might be strange that she takes a side step toward Tomic, of all people. Maybe it's so they can all better be divided so these accusations can go back and forth. "Where were things that that you had to bring them back from?" Lya adds to the questions Farideh is directing at the tall man, canting her head to look up to him before back over to Farideh, "What time at the lake?" As if she might have been there herself and just doesn't remember. There's a shake of Z'riah's head to Lya's question because it's not very important as far as he's concerned. That or he'd probably like to forget that she's seem him like that. Instead he turns his attention more fully on the large boy with an approving sort of once over. "For Faranth's sake. He didn't hurt anyone. Leave the poor guy alone and let him get back to work." And more directly to Tomic, "Don't let them gang up on you or they'll never let up." Girls, amirite? "With the..." And then, Tomic's face is spread by a broad grin. "Oh, yeah. That was pretty great hair." Grin turns into a side-smile, while he nods. The wheelbarrow is moved forward, slightly. And then backward, slightly. And then forward. Then back. Rockabye. "I'm not a gardener," is quicker off the draw, even if it doesn't interrupt his barrow-rocking. "I just- oh," looking to Lycinea now, "the lake was like a few months ago- I just help out. Around. You know?" From Farideh to Lya again, back and forth, just like that barrow. "There was a girl on a raft. With these big thick snakes of hair." And finally, a flat stare at Z'riah. "Gang up?" More steps, and the closer she comes to Tomic. "I met him at the lake one day, with this girl. She's a sailor and she has hair like.." Farideh snaps her fingers and smiles approvingly at Tomic; bingo! "And she's got this annoying pet that's big and.. annoying.. like him," with a backwards glance at Z'riah. Even if he did just sort-of-not-really save her life from the runaway wheelbarrow. "Around, where? Anywhere? Not in the laundry, I would have seen you there," she says, keeping her hands where they sit, and giving Lycinea a steady stare, her own slim brows lifted in anticipation. They'll gang up, alright. "Don't listen to him." "Don't tell me what to do," Lya tosses off at Z'riah like she's telling him the sky is blue. It's just something that is (or in this case, shouldn't be). "I just want to know, anyway." This is also to Zif since they're friends and all. "Since when was asking a question such a crime? It's not like I have much else to do with my time," but to ask questions of people who, she didn't miss, don't answer them. She looks back to Tomic. "You look familiar. Are you from here?" She squints at him. Surely if he was, she would know him given the similarities in their ages. "What's wrong with him?" It's Lya's turn to ask Farideh a question. So much for solidarity! Questions for everyone! It's probably mostly Tomic he's talking to when he says, "Fuck it. Good luck, man." The greenrider is washing his hands of this. "If you tear him apart, make sure you hide the body really well," he tells the girls. Unnecessarily dramatic? Most definitely. Z'riah turns, though, to start heading back the way he'd come rather than continuing on the way he'd probably intended to be going. He has a body to keep in fantastic shape here and standing around isn't going to get that done. Tomic's expression animates suddenly. "Was it a cat?" By the time he's following Farideh's gesture to Z'riah, it's too late. Maybe no one will notice that. "I'd probably get all the colours to swap shirts, in the laundry. I get sent to fetch stuff." He's still rocking that wheelbarrow, back and forth. "And carry things. And fix things. Just wherever. If anything ever gets broke in the laundry, then maybe." To Lya, "From Benden." And after Z'riah, a meek, "Tear apart?" Farideh is back to watching Tomic, contemplatively, while Z'riah and Lycinea bicker; she looks like she's up to something, though that something might have to wait until another day. Giving Z'riah a dismissal hand-fling for his part, she ambles to Lycinea and re-loops their arms, boasting a smug smile as she starts to drag the blonde back towards the path they were trekking before they were interrupted. "It was nice to meet you again, Tomic. Perhaps I'll see you in the laundry, then, if something breaks?" She wiggles her fingers at him and smiles feline-like, and then starts walking, taking Lycinea with her whether the other girl likes it or not. Tomic does not, in fact, get torn apart. But just to be on the safe side, he waits for everyone to be well on their way before starting, a bit more slowly, toward the Weyr. Safer that way. |
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