Logs:Intolerable Bronzeriders
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| RL Date: 29 November, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: V'ret assists the elderly.. and gets (unsolicited) girl advice. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 5, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lys/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions |
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| <OOC> Farideh says, ""A girl""
And then there are the waddle-y and largely pregnant members of the weyr, who barely get around on their own two feet and interrupt the trajectory of others with their unexpected pauses. It could be any down now, and yet the weyrwoman is still trudging through her daily routine-- which obviously less zeal than she would have otherwise. She stops, in heading towards the deeper caverns, to take advantage of one of the chairs set up for the aunties near the walls; languishing is not quite the word for it, as she sits with her legs stretched out and her eyes closed. One, therefore, passes the other. There is a trouble in recognition. Eyes closed; if V'ret kept walking, could he make it by? His boots click on the stone with each step, and when they near, the rhythm falters, stops for too long a moment. Entirely too long a moment to just keep walking. Options are weighed, and he winds up with a polite throat-clearing instead of the far more sensible moving-on. "Weyrwoman? Are you feeling all right?" Polite. Nothing more than polite. His polite throat-clearing isn't expected enough, the sound causing Farideh to jump and squeak in surprise. "Good-- Faranth, V'ret," the goldrider huffs, fanning herself with a hand, tucking her feet underneath her chair and looking everywhere but at the hapless weyrling. "You surprised me-- have you been standing there long?" She looks honestly confused, but her gaze settles, grudgingly, on the young man. "Not my intention. To startle you, I mean. Just..." His lips make a thin line, cutting off whatever was originally to come after that. Revised, instead, to, "Under the circumstances, your health and well-being are I'm sure of interest to a great many people, for the sake of morale if nothing else." Which is a more polite way of disclaiming a personal interest on V'ret's part. "It's nothing-- it's fine," is meant to reassure, but her attempt at standing up, albeit while leaning back, backfires and has her sitting back down. Raking the hair from her face, Farideh half-scowls at V'ret, which might just be how her face looks these days. "I don't have the plague. It's an affliction that has fettered women for too many turns to count, but if they can do it, I can do it too." Whoever they are-- well. "Shouldn't you be at--" she starts and stops, squinting up at him, suspiciously. A long look, an untrusting look. "Denial is a powerful force on the human mind," V'ret points out. "But you don't think it would dishearten people just the same if something happened to you, just the same sort of thing that's happened to women for too many turns to count?" But it's punctuated with a smile. "If you need rest, you should be resting." And apparently he judges this a reasonable enough risk to offer her a hand. "If you'll accept some assistance to somewhere more comfortable?" "You mean if I died in childbirth? It's a possibility," one which, she doesn't go on to correct. "All I do is rest. I'm restless-- not quite the same." Still, Farideh stares at the offered hand before accepting it with her own. "If you're not going to join the others for a meal, or practice your lessons, then you can walk with me back to my weyr. I take it you aren't in a rush to get anywhere--?" Her expression seems to express that, either way, she wouldn't care. The hand is cooler than one might have expected. "I'd intended to find a lady friend to see if she wanted to have dinner with me." It could totally be true. It's not, but it could be. V'ret doesn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second before offering up the explanation, anyway. "As I haven't seen her, she won't notice my absence," especially since she doesn't exist, "and I'll feel much better for it." "A lady friend," Farideh coos, fluttering her eyelashes and she stands up from the chair she was formerly trapped in (re: ponderous weight). "Already? I didn't think Quinlys allowed that sort of thing for at least four more months." She flashes him a smile while she smooths out the folds of her muddied-gold colored dress, but the fact that she doesn't move from just-in-front-of-the-chair means.. she must be waiting for something? "I can't say I'll make her jealous should we see her, as I don't think a young -- is she young? -- single -- is she single? -- girl could have anything to be jealous of, of a pregnant goldrider. The smile that comes in return is almost sly. "There's no rule against dinner. We still have a bit before it can be more than dinner, but I'm a patient fellow." V'ret offers her his arm; all that etiquette business has clearly taken hold well enough. "You still look lovely, if... tired. It couldn't hurt her to be moved by the competitive spirit, could it?" The details, they are not forthcoming, but V'ret is of course pretending here to be a gentleman. "I suppose there's not," with a heavy dose of dryness coloring her voice. "You'll have plenty of time to help boost the weyrbrat population, V'ret-- for now, enjoy your freedom." Farideh's smile is much too wide to be sincere, and there's the undercurrent of mirth too, but dutifully, she places her hand in the crook of his elbow and allows him to lead the way, away. "We haven't had much time to talk, you and I. Just us. Since the beginning. How are you? How's Zoth?" No quick steps, no rushing; V'ret keeps a leisurely pace despite having longer legs. "I wouldn't presume to think that my life at this point would hold much of interest to you. I'm sure you can't have forgotten enough of weyrlinghood yet to need the reminders. Zoth... makes so much of it easy. He's very precise. Drills would be easier if that were true of his clutchmates." A 'tut-tut' sound comes from Farideh, cutting him a sidelong look. "Are you poking fun at the fact that you're only slightly younger than me? Only slightly less experienced?" More annoyed sounds ensue, but she tips her head this way and that, considering his words. "Do you enjoy the exercises? Lessons? What are you good at? Bad at? Lys hates the jogging part and Jocelyn doesn't like the-- superficial side of political lessons." "If I wanted to poke fun at you, I would call you an old woman and make the ludicrous suggestion that surely no girl I was chasing would be put off by my helping the elderly." This is cheerful in a way that could start to edge into fond if V'ret didn't let it go soon after. "I don't consider myself an exceptional student, but I wouldn't say I have any complaints about the curriculum. Mornings. Mornings are the worst thing about all of it, which is hardly much trouble. I think the physical training does tend to be harder on the girls, which is a pity. Now that it's warming up, the running is very nice." "You've been taking those intolerable bronzerider classes I take it. I do believe K'zin used to teach them, but now-- tell me, who do you take your cues from?" Farideh's mouth pulls to one side as she staves off laughter with a pointed stare at the weyrling. She walks, she listens; she doesn't interrupt at all! "Early mornings can't be substituted or I would have had that luxury ages ago," she sighs, staring dreamily into the distance. "No? I love to jog, when I can. It's the easiest form of exercise, better than jumping jacks, tossing firestone sacks, or those-- pushup, curl up things." "Ah, I wouldn't know anything about that. Perhaps you just bring it out in... people," V'ret suggests, but at the end, his gaze breaks off in a way that could be mistaken for shy. "I would sooner the running than the lifting, anyway, but the lifting was harder at the beginning. I've had several sets of new shirts in just the last few months." Although this is probably encouraged by the fact that he doesn't tend to wear anything cut baggy enough to leave room. "I'm routinely reassured that this will be appreciated by the fairer sex, but of course that's some time off." "I've been told as much," the goldrider agrees, placidly. "Shirts? It's a start, if that's what you're looking for, though I daresay the color of the dragon between your legs might be enough to woo over a fair share of women. Lower cavern girls," Farideh starts ticking off the fingers on her free hand, "holder girls-- but, for the girl with standards," don't miss the inflection, "an complementing wardrobe doesn't hurt. It shows you made the effort. You should learn a few poems too. That harper, the one Jocelyn hates, he's got quite the gilded tongue." Once, that might have gotten a laugh. At least it gets as far as getting a smile. "It's not the shirts," especially since these shirts are virtually identical to every other shirt V'ret's ever had. Some of them aren't white! A few of them are gray. "It's the shoulders. Allegedly. But if you haven't noticed, then perhaps it's just the sort of thing someone says to be reassuring. Is there a Harper that she hates? I didn't notice. I wouldn't have thought you were so keen on poetry." That gets a wide-eyed stare, with Farideh leaning both forward and back to check out his shoulders. "I don't know," she responds, frowning up at him. "I suppose there are girls who like that sort of thing." Miscommunication is a great thing, really. She gives his arm a reassuring pat, then a squeeze. "I thought you'd know each other back and front by now-- but, there are more weyrlings now then there were when I was a weyrling, so it's harder to get to know each other?" For the last, she actually laughs. "Why? Because Drex doesn't seem like the type to quote it?" There might have been more, but a turn of her head to the side has her stopping in her tracks. "I should-- there's Aleigha. I want to talk to her before the morning. Go, and stop worrying about girls," with another squeeze to his arm, before she's off, making for the retreating assistant headwoman. "Girls are considerably easier to think about than most things, these days." It's more sober than it needs to be, for the subject of conversation; perhaps V'ret has reason to be thankful for the distraction. "At least try to get some rest?" That last gets called after her as though he's fully aware of the impracticability thereof. And then he heads back in the direction he was originally headed. Because there's a girl. Right. |
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