Logs:It Started Out Okay.
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 13 July, 2009 |
| Who: Milani, A'son |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'son encounters Milani, who surprises him with a weyrmating gift for a weyrmating he didn't realize was about to happen. It's going okay until he begins to feel she's meddling and only gets worse when he decides this is all Tiriana's fault. |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day 9, Month 3, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions |
| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ) The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. It's an awfully cold winter night. But the Snowasis is a warm, cheerful place. The glows are all lit and a fire is going (wherever that happens in here). The bar is probably at its peek business hour right now, people coming and going. The tables are full of loud, halfway drunk riders and some residents are enjoying a game of poker. The groups mingle freely here and there. And A'son is relaxing, seated at one of the few empty booths. He sits alone, slowly working on a mug of klah and some hot stew. Something to heat him up before he treks back across the bowl. In from the renewed chill comes Milani, pink-cheeked and pulling at the folds of her scarf to loosen it, a quick scan of the room draws a chuckle and she misses A'son at first, heads over to the bar itself and has a few merry words with the barkeep, orders a drink. Some small change is passed across the counter and within moments the headwoman has a steaming mug of cider in return. By now she's gotten the scarf loose all the way and her jacket open and Millie cradles the mug in two hands, pushes away from the bar to find people to socialize with. She pauses to trade greetings with a couple of her staff and then she spots the bronzerider alone in his booth. There's a moment's hesitation, then the headwoman proceeds, coming to a halt and leaning against the booth's edge. "Hey there stranger," she says in a voice that's lightly laced with humor and a warm smile for A'son. The room is noisy enough that the sudden appearance of another person doesn't garner a shocked reaction from the bronzerider, like it normally would. Instead he just looks a little surprised to see Milani. Mouth full with spoon he's not exactly able to smile right away and so goofily waves his free hand around. Then he swallows like a sane person would have done to begin with. "Hey, Millie. Just get off shift?" He asks, inclining his head towards the cup in her head. "It's absolutely freezing out there tonight." It must be, because he's still wearing his own jacket despite the warm climate of the Snowasis. Milani sets said mug down and slides into the seat across from him when he waves that way, grin turning amused. "No, I was out walking," the headwoman explains. I was hoping the ice had seized back up for skating, but it hasn't. Not enough anyway, just floating chunks." She pulls her scarf off, folds it onto the bench, then wriggles out of her jacket too and sets it aside as well. "It is pretty darned cold. Good night to stay in, really." Both of her hands curve around her mug again and she looks across the way with another little smile, fond. "Other than freezing your ass off, how're you doing?" "It is. But look at us, both outside of more comfortable, cozy places." A'son rolls his eyes around to indicate their current location. He blows on the stew in front of him, stirring it up with the spoon. "Weyrlings, Persie, weyrlings. I'd have to say that defines the order of my life right now. Every once in awhile I'm allowed to go to sleep or eat something." He grins a bit wryly, bringing another mouthful of the savory substance up to his face to be consumed. "What have you been up to? Hopefully something more exciting than me?" "In here's not so bad, nice and warm, plenty of interesting people," Milani answers and shifts to prop one elbow on the tabletop, her hand in her cheek. "Mm. Busy that sounds like. Weyrlings are working hard still. It's nice to see them flying more, now that the weather is getting a bit better." Blue-green eyes scan his face for signs of wear and tear, but Millie only winds up smiling again. "I'll be watching to make sure you finish that whole thing then," she mock-warns with a little nod to his bowl. "You know, growing boy like you needs to keep his strength up." More teasing. A little shrug for what she's been up to. "Inventorying, cleaning up for spring, fighting with Tiriana. The usual." "Yeah, hopefully it won't be too much more time before they can get their own weyrs. Then the barracks will be sort of quiet again, at least until the next clutch comes along." A'son eats more of his stew during Milani's remarks, laughing closed-mouthed around the spoon at one point. "Old man like me needs to eat some strong food to keep his bones and muscles from disintegrating." Something of the last part results in just a little eyebrow lifting. "Fighting with Tiriana? I'd think she wouldn't have all that much to argue about. Things have have been quiet lately." "Mm, I'm earmarking things for them in stores. You know, furniture and stuff. And once Tiriana's assigned them all, we'll do basic cleanup before they all move in. Gearing up for that as soon as the weyrlingmasters give the word." She ducks her head, laughing for his remark. "Otherwise one of these days, you won't even need that cane? Just ... blow away like so much dust?" Brows up and that last fades her smile and Millie looks away towards the patio outside. "About Rajiv and what we did to him." "That sounds fascinating." A'son remarks with a half-smile. That bowl in front of him is rapidly reduced to a state of emptiness and he pushes it aside, the spoon clinking down into it. "Exactly. I have to at least make it to the point where I can /use/ it. You know? Nikoth would be absolutely beside himself. What would he do with a rider made of dust? Can't fly when you're in that sort of state." He shakes his head back and forth, most serious that. Mention of Rajiv results in an awkward cough from the bronzerider. "I really try not to think about it. /We/ didn't have anything to do with the actual ruling." "Exactly, we want the grouchiest old man on Pern to get to peak grouchiness after all," Milani picks up the thread of the teasing again but her smile is a little weak. "It was made on our behalf, so we're all responsible," Millie says quietly, looking down into her mug, turning it to and fro. "It's hard not to think about it. At any rate, it was stupid to blurt it out to Tiriana." Her expression shades wry and she takes a sip from her mug. "Reminds me though, I have something for you and Persie." The headwoman turns to her jacket and flips it open to the inside pocket, roots around in there, then draws out a small wrapped package. "Just a little something to hang in your new home." "Just because it was made on our /behalf/ doesn't mean we were the ones to make it. And that's what I have to keep thinking in order to sleep at night. So please, don't wreck any possible illusions I might have on the matter." A'son pulls the mug of klah towards him, probably sucking the heat out of it through his ungloved hands. The small wrapped package is given an absolutely puzzled look. He doesn't even put his drink down to accept it. He shoots her an owlish look that comes accompanied with a confused, "Huh? What are you talking about?" "I won't say anything else about it," Milani promises on the matter of hung traders. His reaction to that little package though brings her brows up for the space of a few seconds and then they go down again, wrinkling up in the middle of her forehead. "Tiriana mentioned that you were moving, with Persie," Millie says delicately. "So I got you a weyrwarming present." Her own expression clouds further, uncertainty in her eyes. A'son stares at Milani for a few long, uncomfortable seconds. He breaks it and glances around the bar, like maybe, just maybe, she's playing some sort of a joke on him. But none of their mutual friends seem to be hanging around waiting to surprise the bronzerider, so he's forced to look back at her. "I asked her if she would move in with me. She told me that she had to think about it." The present is given an awkward look and he smiles just as awkwardly. Gently, "I think Tiriana must be confused? Though I don't know how she would know anything about Persie and I." Milani lifts a hand to her face, covering nose and eyes. "Oh boy," she says with a laugh and rubs at her forehead. "She ... told me which weyr," Millie says slowly. "So, you know, didn't really think she was lying. It's part of what the Weyrwoman does though. Weyr assignments." Her lips press together for a moment and then she nudges the little package across the table some more. "Take it anyway, Ays?" her voice is softer, earnest of tone. "You can save it to open later." "Which weyr?" A'son asks blankly, still eyeballing that package being pushed across the table. He's looking like one very, very confused man. "I don't know she would lie either. I mean, Tiriana can be a bitch but she doesn't usually just make shit up for the hell of it." The tone of her voice catches him and he looks up from it to take in her face. "Sure, Millie. I can do that. I'm sorry that there was a misunderstanding like this." Milani blows out a breath and ducks her head, looking down into her mug. "Don't know if I should /tell/ you now. Maybe it was meant to be a surprise?" she remarks lightly and peeks back up at him, expression sheepish now. "And no, she doesn't. I think she was just mad and looking for you know, a cheap shot to make at me and went for the one that would -- well you know." She waves a hand vaguely then shakes her head. "Not your fault. I just figured it was a done deal already, that's all." The headwoman smiles gently across at him. "It's for your wall. That." She nods to the little package. "For good luck and a happy home." Her voice is soft again and the edges of her smile quirk just a little, then vanish behind the mug's rim when she drinks again, eyes lowered for the duration. A'son's eyebrows arch up and his lips pull to the side, considering her. "I think we've already blown the whole 'You're weyrmated! Congratulations!' surprise. You might as well tell me where I'm going to live. Otherwise I'll come home one night and not know where any of my stuff is. Since no one has bothered to tell me anything anyway. Women. All of you." An all encompassing, sort of playful insult there. "I didn't know that it was done. I thought it was on hold until whenever." He turns the package around in his hands, hefting the weight of it. "Thanks, Milani." Whatever is in that package does have some weight to it and it has an interesting shape, peaks and valleys discernible through the wrapping. Milani takes a few more swallows from her mug before setting it down and fidgets a little with the handle before looking up to meet his eyes again. "That ... would suck," she says with humor in her voice nonetheless. There's a moment's further hesitation and then she clears her throat. "I'daur's weyr. You'll ... need a good bit of furniture. We emptied it out after --" Milani's shoulders shift a little and she takes a breath, nods, lets it out. "You're welcome." Another long pause follows and though her hands tighten around the mug, the next words to come out of her mouth are sincere still. "I hope you'll be really happy." "I'daur's weyr?" A'son is again, not for the first time tonight, surprise. Wondering aloud, "That's interesting. Was that by whatever's available or did she pick it out or something?" The packed is turned around again and felt before he places it carefully down on the table. "I don't think we'll need any extra furniture. Persie and I both have ours. If anything we're going to be looking at getting rid of some of it." He picks up his mug from earlier, drink cooled now. He looks over the rim at her, "Yeah, me too." "I don't know," Milani answers honestly. "To be honest, I thought that was a little um ... odd," she continues in a careful tone. "But I have no idea. Tiriana just said that she'd given it to you guys. So after I calmed down about the argument I marked it off on all the lists. Picked that up a little bit more recently in case I saw you." A nod indicates the package he's feeling up. "Well, if you're jettisoning, let me know. We'll send someone up for it, no tossing things over the ledge," she jokes and laughs a little lamely in the aftermath. "I don't know that I think it's odd." A'son shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, he meant a lot to both of us. So it's sort of like... Putting life where there isn't any, right? Rather than let it be empty and abandoned. That's depressing." He sips some of that cold liquid. "I'll try to restrain myself. You know how I feel about disposing furniture." He wiggles his fingers in the air to mimic things falling from the sky. "I don't know if I could live with a ghost like that hanging over me," Milani answers slowly, thoughtfully. "Creepy. But yeah, life where there isn't any is a good way to look at it." She smiles across at him again, fingers tapping lightly against the side of her mug and her gaze skips away through the crowd, alighting here and there, nowhere in particular. "You're just you know, a menace to honest furnishings." Safer to keep up the familiar teasing. "Just keep me posted about timing and we'll make sure anything you're ditching gets a proper burial." The spark is back in her eyes as she looks right at him again, grin all lopsided. "I don't think that the ghost of I'daur would stay there. He wanted to leave, so I doubt his spirit would linger. I don't think he'd care if anyone moved into his weyr afterwards, especially if he knew them. Right?" A'son looks at the crowd past her shoulder and then comes back to find her face. "You can't let me have anything nice. I just destroy it. I'm like a bad dog that pees on the floor." There's a nod and his free hand comes across the table to playfully flick her elbow. "I'll let you know." "People bring their ghosts with them sometimes," Milani says quietly. "I didn't know him well enough myself to know if he would or wouldn't. He didn't keep the place all that neat though, I can tell you that. But we left it really clean. Probably just needs a good dusting." Practical. "You need some serious training. I'll have to get Persie a bag of treats and a squirt bottle to make sure you're behaving yourself," she shoots back at him, eyes dancing now. The arm that holds that flicked elbow drops so she can poke a finger at his forearm. "Post wrapped in sisal rope?" A'son repeats, like the idea has never occured to him. He tips his head back and forth, considering. "It might work. Hopefully she won't just ignore it and go for the couch anyway." It's that last bit that changes his expression from relatively happy and playful to... not. The head tipping ceases and he just looks at her across the table. "You talked to N'thei. And he might give me a hard time. You mean you bitched to N'thei and now he's going to come /punch/ me in the face like that /last/ time you talked to him about something involving me?" "Supposedly it feels better under their claws than other things," Milani says with a little nod about the cat post. Her expression shifts in the wake of that pronouncement from A'son and she draws a hasty breath, then slowly shakes her head. "Why would he punch you over this, Ays? Last time was different. I think he's ... mellowed out a little lately or something. I bumped into him right after the fight. I was still a little hot under the collar. Upset. Talking it out helped me calm down. He helped me calm down. You know, sometimes he can be reasonable." "Because he likes to punch the sense into people. I was informed last time if I didn't get happy that beatings would continue." A'son points a finger at Milani and then back at his face. "I'm not taking anymore beatings. One more punch and I think my face will melt off." There's a lifted eyebrow and skeptical look for her. "Yeah, because you're young and pretty and wear skirts. I don't have any of those things going for me. And he nailed me the last time because something I did upset you. I don't suspect this going to be any better." "Ah shells ..." Milani exclaims with another puffed out breath and her fingers press against her forehead lightly. "I don't want you getting beat up," she says firmly. "I'll tell him not to, if he was even thinking of it, though I don't know if that will help or just make it worse if he's in a punching frame of mind. I just -- I really don't think he /is/ Ays, honest," Millie says sincerely. That tossaway remark about her youth, looks and skirt-wearing darkens her expression though and her jaw tightens, eyes skipping away into the crowd. "I'd like to think that what's between me and N'thei has /nothing/ to do with tits and ass or me being ten years younger and a lot more to do with the fact that until I fucked up that one time, he knew I had his back and after Satiet died, I was there for him as much as he'd let anybody be." She pushes her mug away a little, leans back in the booth and regards A'son for a thoughtful moment. "I'm guessing though that we might have to figure out how us both being friends with him works when he's one of the few people I can say some things to and know he's going to get it and not hold it against me and sometimes you're the subject." "We'll make this extremely simple. Since you and N'thei are so close and you like to rant and yell at him about me, and do things that will make him not like me? He can be your friend." A'son pushes the little package back towards her. "Because if you were really concerned with us getting along and beings friend you would have come to /me/ with your problems about me. Rather than going to a person you know could potentially become unhinged if you push his buttons the right way." The mug is finished off and the bowl grabbed before he slips out of the booth. "Have a good night, Millie." That makes Milani's lips purse and she shakes her head. "Ays, wait." She pushes up to her feet too, head shaking again. "That's not how it was. It wasn't /about/ you or me having a problem about /you/ because ... I don't. It was about Tiriana more than anything else and her using that news to get under my skin. He just happened to be there. I didn't seek him out. It was an in the moment kind of thing when I was still angry." She pauses to take a breath, goes on. "I'll make it easier than that. I just won't talk to N'thei about /you/ at all again. Ever. Other things. But not you." The package is reached for, held out again. "I don't ... actually usually think that I need to be concerned at all about us getting along and being friends, because we just /are/. Even with all the crazy, stupid stuff this last turn. We just are. Maybe that's taking things for granted. But there are some things that all the mistakes in the world can't really mess up." "I've already asked you before not to do something like this. But you've gone and done it this time too." A'son shakes his head, looking down at the present that she's holding out to him again. "I don't know Milani. There's so many things that have happened and so much has changed. It seems like it's difficult to just get through one day without pissing some seemingly random person off. And then I find out that someone is going to come and give me a hard time over something I didn't even know was happening." He lifts his filled hands up. "Things like this have to stop. I'm not fighting with /my/ best friend over problems with you. After we already talked about how to handle them." "I didn't say he definitely was, just that he might bring it up," Milani says very clearly. "I didn't /do/ anything. You make it sound like I went out and did this on purpose and I /didn't/. I'm not perfect and I never have been, don't tell me you've never done something spur of the moment because you got riled up, because we both know you have. And in the end, N'thei finding out about this was just ... an accident of happenstance. When you guys move, he'd find out about it anyway and I'll bet his opinion, whether he got it from me, or just hearing about it from someone else would be exactly the same. So this is not about /me/ or /you/ at all." Deep breath. "I /am/ sorry though if it does cause some kind of problem and I'll do what I can to make sure it /doesn't/." "Things that I've done spur of the moment haven't potentially gone and gotten other people in trouble." Because that whole bed thing? There was no possibility it was going to land on anyone's head. ...Maybe? "Except that if he hadn't found out from you the other day he probably would have found out when /I/ told him. After /I/ knew. And then none of this would be happening and it's all you- Tiriana's fault. This is /all/ /her/ fault." Realization blooms all over A'son's face and he tosses both mug and bowl down onto the table he just left. Onlooker's stare but he doesn't seem concerned. "We're not done." He tells Milani before he leaves her, the mess and the people staring at them behind. Apparently he has business to attend to. At least he's still wearing his jacket. There's Milani opening her mouth to differ on point the first and then her eyes go wide. "Wait ... A'son ... /shit/," as she hastily reaches for her jacket and scarf. He's off and well gone before she gets her stuff slung on. "/Ays/ dammit!" she hollers after, but it's probably not likely she'll catch up, even with those long legs of hers. Oy vey. |
Leave A Comment