Logs:Mistaken Identity
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| RL Date: 22 November, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, Rh'mis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lies. And other things. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 5, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
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>---< Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr(#1549RJ) >------------------------------<
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this
tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with
comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a
hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in
the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of
insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Farideh F 18 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 2m
Rh'mis M 19 5'6" Scrawny, Brown hair, Blue eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Inner Caverns
>--------------------------------------< 4D 5M 36T I10, spring afternoon >---< The great thing about the nighthearth is what it implies: people come here at night. Sadly, for Rhey, that's not always the case... even on not-so-terrible spring afternoons like this one. For the moment, though, no one's paying the recalcitrant brownrider much mind; he's got a chair in the corner that he's turned off to one side, and a bowl of stew, and that's pretty much all he needs. Lackadaisical days spent inside are best done without the constant company of the rest of the Weyr's residents. What better a place to while away hours than in the bubble cavern between the living cavern and kitchen, that serves to entrance occupants with the savory smells from the stoves and the stream of babble from the larger cavern. It's on damp days like today that Farideh - given she's not up to her elbows in laundry - finds herself ensconced safely indoors. She wanders in, not immediately honed in on Rh'mis' antisocial table for one, rolling a small figurine between her fingers; her eyes are even downcast as she plops down in one of the available chairs. Farideh may not have noticed him, but there's not much that escapes Rhey's notice, not usually. He doesn't move except to slide back into his chair, just a little further, as if by doing so he might disappear from sight altogether. Sadly, while it may help some, he's not actually gifted with with the powers of invisibility; it wouldn't take much more than a glance for a person to register his presence, if they happened to glance that way. But as long as he doesn't make a sound... For the moment, he watches her; the downcast eyes, the figurine. Oblivious of being watched, Farideh's finger slide the figurine into her palm and close around it, causing it to disappear from view. She sighs and sits up straighter in her chair, her eyes dragging up from her hand to the hearth. Awareness is slow in coming, but when it does, her brow dips slightly and the brunette swings her head to the side - the opposite side Rh'mis is sitting on - to stare; that proving fruitless, it swings the other way, but she looks genuinely startled to find someone sitting there. Her eyes barely squint, just enough, as she says in a low voice, "Hello." Caught! On the plus side, Rhey's had a few moments, at least, to both prepare himself for the possibility, and to gauge the younger teen's present mood. He grunts, rather than actually reply to her; for the moment, there's a safe distance between them, and that makes this encounter rather less fraught than their previous one. His gaze lowers towards his food; maybe she'll see that he's 'busy' and just leave him alone! There is no yelling, chasing, or accusations, and certainly no towels in evidence. Farideh sets her elbow down on the arm of the chair, leaning forward as if she needs that extra inch to get a better look at him. "You look familiar," she muses out loud, head tilted to the side. Her eyes stay on him a length of seconds more before she snaps her fingers and points at him. "You work in the stables, right?" Rh'mis? He can play this game. "Aye," he agrees, affecting a lazy, Tillekian drawl. "Been there nigh on two turns, now. Like the runners. There's puppies in there, at th' moment, too." He flops backwards, lazy and languid, flicking his gaze idly over Farideh. "Y'all right, there?" "I thought so." Farideh sounds proud of herself, settling back into her chair and stretching her legs out in front. "You're dating Lilit, right? I think that's what they were saying, that girl with the freckles and the hair," using her hands to describe big hair, "that works in the archives. She's friends with Casvra and she works in the laundry with me. We hear a lot about you." She gives him a pleased smile - proud of herself, and just a touch cryptic. Rh'mis' expression doesn't waver in the wake of all of this information. Whoever this stablehand he's supposed to be is, hopefully he won't mind having his identity assumed, at least temporarily. "Mm," he agrees. "So what's she been saying about me, eh? Can't tease a man like that." This time, he leans forward, just slightly, as if eager to hear the news. When Rh'mis, aka the stablehand, leans forward, Farideh follows suit, balancing her forearm on the chair arm. "They say," she says warmly, clearly in her element and enthused with the topic, "that you're a two-faced, cheating bastard that should be kicked between the legs. Repeatedly." Her smile grows, almost as conspiratorial as it is saccharine. "What do you think of that? Any truth in it? Are you," she drops her eyes to peruse her fingernails with disinterest, "lying and cheating on Lilit with as many women as there are runners in the stables?" Not that she would know how many runners are in the stables, but perhaps the laundry exaggerates; benefit of the doubt. To his credit, Rhey manages not to start at this turn of events, though perhaps it helps that it's not really his reputation that's been so sullied. "That so?" The corners of his mouth turn upwards, into something akin to a smile. "What do you think? Am I a dashing... bronzerider wannabe? P'rhaps Casvra's just jealous. P'rhaps you all just talk too much." Mild surprise causes Farideh to look up at Rh'mis, her lips parting just before she laughs. "A bronzerider? Oh, I don't know, probably so. But, you must know," and she gets up from her seat, hands settling on her hips as she walks, bridging the gap between her and the wannabe bronzerider-stablehand, "it's not Casvra that's jealous." "No?" Rhey tips his head back so that he can follow Farideh's progress, regarding her with a bemused kind of expression; girls are weird. Even this stablehand, whatever his name is, must think so. So weird. "No." One conclusion can be made since he doesn't move and Farideh is coming closer - she does, eventually, stand right in from of him with her arms akimbo. "It's me." She gives him a coquettish smile and leans forward, bent from the waist. "What do you say? Should we have a little roll in the hay? Lilit is so dull anyway." If she's especially observant, perhaps Farideh will notice the way Rhey's fingers tighten about his own of stew, though that's the only tell to any anxiety he might have at her sudden (but not that sudden) proximity. "Nah," he says, after a moment, giving the girl a look up-and-down, then shaking his head. "Not my type. 'scuse me, probably due back." He doesn't move, though. "Mm, that's what I thought," Farideh intones, her eyes finally narrowing as her arms come up to cross over her chest. "You're not Tohfer." She lifts querulous brows at Rh'mis, unmoving from her spot. "Who are you anyway, that you go around pretending to be people you aren't?" Her mouth quirks, not with amusement, but in an unpleasant way. "Besides, he's tall and muscular, and you are not." "Gavren." It's prompt, and kind of rueful, in a semi-self-conscious way. "Didn't mean to-- never mind. Don't you ever pretend you're someone else? Wish you were? Someone... prettier, smarter, nicer, more successful?" He shrugs, and this time he launches to his feet, pushing past the laundress. "Still gotta get back to work, though." "No, I'm already pretty enough." No one cares about smart, nice, or successful, or that's the way it comes off given the amount of care she gives those subjects. Farideh swings around - target still in sight. "Gavren, where do you even work?" She tucks her arms into her chest tighter, but she is, at least, not glaring at him; she's just watching him, warily. "Are you?" Again, Rhey's gaze slides up and down Farideh's body, and he shrugs. "Kinda skinny for my tastes. Snanky, too." He doesn't answer the question of where he works; indeed, unless she stops him bodily, he apparently seems quite intent on simply walking out. Gavren? He's a busy man. Farideh isn't going to try and stop him this time. She watches him go, increasingly annoyed looking until he disappears completely. She jerks her chin after him, mumbling to herself. "You wouldn't know pretty if it slapped you in the face." And because her perfect afternoon and mood has been ruined, she too, exits stage left. |
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