Logs:Love Aint Rational
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| RL Date: 27 December, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Farideh |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After his bro-talk with T'gar, Drex slinks his way back home to apologize to Farideh - or try to, anyway. |
| Where: Farideh's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
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A short tunnel and a shorter set of stairs leading up from the ledge
reveal a weyr that has been well maintained over time and disuse, if one
that perpetually has a sweet, earthen smell. Unusually, there are no
separate chambers in this Weyrwoman's weyr, the bedroom and bath only made
distinct by two walls that rise three-quarters to the ceiling.
In the main area, the hearth sits near the tunnel from the ledge,
decorated with a square pattern of ruddy bricks along the floor, which
rise into a decorative arch above, the mantel stretching from one end to
the other. An indigo velvet sofa and two wing-backed chairs upholstered in
blue and gold, sit in front of the hearth, on a plush cream and antique
gold patterned rug; a more recent addition is the low coffee table,
showing ornate legs, that squats before the couch. Against the opposite
wall is a finely made sideboard, with multiple drawers and cabinets for
storing crystal glasses, silverware, and on top, bottles of distinguished
wine and liquor, flanked by towering bookcases filled with books and
pretty bric-a-brac. To the east is a tunnel that leads down towards the
Weyrleaders' Complex.
The bedroom section of the weyr contains an ornate wooden queen-sized bed,
dressed in a plush mattress, soft cream sheets, and piled high with dark
blue pillows and varying shades of gray furs, and both a tall armoire and
low chest of drawers; the later piece of furniture is decorated with large
glass jars filled with candles that burn in the darker hours of the day.
In one corner, a full length mirror is angled against the wall. Just
across from the bedroom, behind the other three-quarter wall, is a small,
elevated stone bath that is built into the walls. Ancient plumbing makes
sure there will be hot water when needed and though no vanity exists, a
single built-in shelf is carved out just above the tub. Hung on the
half-finished wall is a slightly warped mirror. It's late, but not that late -- not, the Snowasis closed and kicked him out late, so much as Drex is only halfway to drunk when he makes his way towards Farideh's weyr. His nose is bloodied, but at least isn't dripping anymore, though a stain down his front is evidence enough of the damage. "Fari?" he calls as he steps in, voice mostly even, not even wary. The weyr is quiet and not a thing moves, but anyone who scrutinizes hard enough would see the sock-covered toes peeping over one edge of the sofa before Farideh's head, rumpled hair and all, peeks over the high back. Her initial response is surprise at the sight he presents with his bloodied nose and stained clothes, but then she remembers and schools her features to neutrality. "Drex," sounds bored,as she flops back to lying prone on the sofa, her nose in a book. When he pinpoints the sound of her voice, Drex steps over towards the sofa, settling into the small space near her legs, one arm looping over them in a posture taken a hundred times before. "I aint so good with jealousy. Should've stayed, but, figured it was better to leave than to bust up yer furniture again," he gives a reminiscent sort of grin, though he manages to school it to something more appropriate to an apology after a moment. "Anyway," he glances sidelong, around the room, as if trying to spot any telltale signs of a certain bluerider having moved in or anything. "M'sorry." A short struggles ensues, but Farideh doesn't try overmuch to dislodge her weyrmate from her legs. "That is all you have to say for yourself? You acted like an idiot, you embarrassed me in front of my friend, she probably hates you now and will never come over ever again, and then you show up-- with blood!" She flings a hand at him, expression disgruntled. Drex struggles with an expression that oscillates between frustrated and attempt at something calm. "And you didn't warn me who it was, so you have to have had some inkling of how I'd react, but you didn't. And I doubt that one'd be put off by one little argument. The way she looks at you," and now there's a hint of his creeping jealousy, though he's struggling not to let it show. It's almost like he's forgotten about the blood, hand lifting to his nose, and the faint traces of embarrassment. "It's nothin'," he assures her. Less cool than when he originally arrived, Farideh tries to wiggle up to her elbows, frowning fiercely at Drex. "I thought you wouldn't even come. I love you and I like her. Why can't you get along? Because you think she likes me? We're friends, and I have never," her frown deepens, "gone behind your back. Not after the last time I talked about it. You're saying just because someone may, or may not, like me means I will suddenly be overcome by passion and jump on them, and cheat on you." And then she throws her book at him. "No," Drex says slowly, frowning. "It aint like that, I just... it aint rational, ok? And just as you said, you like her." He's not so good at this emotion stuff, so it's probably a mercy than she lobs her book at him. "Ow. Fucking fish balls," he curses loudly, as the book catches the edge of his cheek and glances past his nose. Naturally, he starts bleeding all over her legs and the couch, though he's trying to stem the tide. "Yes. I like her as a friend, and I trust her. I don't get jealous of Itsy anymore or your other crew members. That's your life, that's--" Now they've created a right good mess. "Oh!" Farideh's exclamation is exasperated, but she's quickly getting up and rummaging around for a clean cloth. "Stop. Just--" She bats his hands away when she returns to his side, holding the deep blue kerchief up to his nose. "You'll only make it worse if you--" She sighs. "What did you get yourself into this time?" Drex makes a protesting noise, but relents and lets her bat away his hands, gaze on her as she holds the kerchief to his nose. "Anymore. But you did," he points out. "You didn't just get over it, it took a while, right?" his voice is a little muffled, but persistent for all that. "Uh... nothin', really," he tries to brush it off. "That was before, back before I even knew you liked me. I thought you liked her." Farideh makes a face, but keeps one hand around the kerchief and the other on the top of his head to keep it there. "I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I? And sometimes they might want to be more than friend. Are you going to be like this every time?" "You were jealous of her because of me?" Drex sounds -- and looks -- surprised. "I thought, well -- " he seems to think better of pursing that, after consideration, and accepts her ministrations without protest, watching her sidelong. "Can't promise. I mean, yer gorgeous, and amazing, and brilliant, so people are going to want to get into your pants. And I'm going to want to punch them," he states it as a matter of fact. "But I didn't," punch anyone, and he, at least, seems to think that counts for something. "Of course I was," the goldrider admits, looking and sounding puzzled by his surprise. "It was always Itsy this and Itsy that, and you wouldn't even kiss me the first time I asked." Farideh's face shows passing, reminiscent hurt, and then she leans back and pulls the cloth down to examine his nose."But you can't act like that every time. You don't have to like them but you should at least give them a chance. I thought you'd like Jo if you got to know her. She reminds me of Itsy a little, except a rider and not a sailor." "Um," Drex looks vaguely discomforted by the reminder. "It was, I-- fuck. Aint like I'd ever had a girl chase me before. You took me by surprise," he admits, sheepishly, before it turns into a brief grimace as she pulls away the cloth. The bleeding appears to have stopped, and he whistles out a breath through his mouth, rather than his nose. "Aint no one can replace Itsy," he scowls, near immediately. "And if I have to like Jo, then you have to like V'ret." Gauntlet thrown down! "You coward." It's almost affectionate, but then his nose checks out and she's stepping away, setting down the bloodied cloth. "If she didn't like women, you two would be married by now," Farideh antagonizes, her hands falling on her waist. "That-- why do you think I don't like V'ret? He has issue with me. I can't fathom what, but if you want to invite him over you're welcome. I won't go stomping off in a tizzy because he looks at you with googly eyes." He scowls at her accusation of cowardice, though it's obviously put on. "Married?" blurts Drex, "Itsy? Fuck, no. Even if she did like men, she'd never let herself get tied down, like..." like him? It makes him shut up for a moment, face a mixture of complex emotions. Shaking his head for a moment, he leans over with the intent of brushing his lips against Farideh's cheek. "Not even when we sit here talking guy stuff in front of you?" Wordlessly, Farideh watches Drex, through all manifestations of his emotions; she seems keen on seeing where they'll lead him-- even if comes to an uneventful conclusion. "Guy stuff? I wouldn't mind even then. They're guests," she asserts. "It's rude to walk out when you have guests. Not for ones you hate, or like, or would rather kick in the seat of their pants." "I aint all practiced at pretending," like you are, being the unspoken addition from Drex. "When I want to kick someone in the seat of their pants, I kick them in the fuckin' pants. Don't do much to pretend on a ship, not when you know when your bunkmate last took a dump and when his next one's due. Aint much privacy." He rubs a hand at the back of his head, grimacing as he straightens. "Maybe you oughta have the dinner parties with yer fancy friends without me, next time, eh?" The candidness of his statements gets a grimace from Farideh, but she's even more adamant after. "No. I want you there. You think maybe relationship and friendships are mutually exclusive, but I don't. I want you to like my friends, I want my friends to like you. Or, at elastic pretend too," which has her eyebrows knitting. "It comes with practice." And then she leans forward and wraps her arms around his neck, the same one he's just been rubbing. "There's only one sort of practice I enjoy doing," Drex says, after she wraps that arm around his neck, grinning at her entirely unrepentantly. "You're particularly infuriating," Farideh mumbles against his neck, but she is hesitant to, and notably doesn't, relinquish her hold for a few seconds more. "And I love you." "I know," Drex allows, leaning to press lips against the top of her head. "I love you, too." He exhales out, just content to sit there for the time being. "We should--" Farideh pushes back when the moment passes, to stare balefully down at his shirt and it's stain. "Get that to the laundry before it gets any worse. Unless you want to walk around wearing it like a trophy-- a reminder of a fight lost?" No, that's not a smile, as she takes a few unwieldy steps backwards. "Ok, ok," Drex concedes, reaching down to tug his shirt up over his head. "If all you wanted to do was to get me naked, you only had to ask," the noise he makes at her accusation of losing is the beginnings of a snort, stopped short by a painful grimace, as he advances after her, holding out the bloodied shirt ahead of him as if to ward her off. "No," Farideh argues, continuing her back-walking, "it's my weyr and if I wanted you to be naked I would say so." Except she blushes when she says it and nearly trips off the chair flanking the sofa, which she catches herself against, eyeing his shirt. "You're going to make it bleed again and then--" Her hand claps over her mouth, but it's too late, she's already giggling at him. Drex's expression conveys really? fairly expressively, and he grins as she nearly trips, allowing him to catch up to her. "My little... what'd she call you? Kitten," except the sailor's using it kind of mockingly, grinning as he leans to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll go soak it." The offending article is waved, and he walks towards the bedroom and the bath behind, whistling. Not that he's ever hung around Jo enough to know that Farideh doesn't particularly enjoy that epithet, but her soured expression conveys all when it comes from his lips. "What's wrong with my name?" She trails after him at a slower pace, muttering to herself all the while. "I like your name," Drex's voice emerges from the bathing chamber, muted by the sound of water flowing. It doesn't take long before the water shuts off, and he re-emerges, walking towards her silently. His hand touches her arm, the other her waist, seeking to guide her towards the bed, with an all-too-familiar grin. They'll have to be careful so he doesn't bleed again, but then it's probably not the first time they've had to work around one of his fights, either. |
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