Logs:Not Children
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| RL Date: 25 January, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Lycinea are not children, but they do have a knack for gossip and brooding. |
| Where: Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 11, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cold. |
| Mentions: Joremy/Mentions, Wulfan/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, Tristen/Mentions, Potipher/Mentions, Cendon/Mentions |
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>---< Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr >--------------------------<
The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass,
due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as
nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches
hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun
during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath
the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the
lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there,
foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the
light.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Farideh F 18 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
Lycinea F 17 5'5" Slender, Blonde hair, Blue-green eyes 7s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Lake Out
>------------------------------------< 28D 11M 36T I10, autumn afternoon >---< Autumn's winds are both cool and damp, giving the illusion of rainfall, and the sky is overcast. Afternoon means many things to many people, but to Farideh, it's about bundling up and seeking the solace of outside, far away from the prying eyes and incessant prattle of weyrfolk. She's sitting on one of the curved benches on the far side of the lake, dressed in multiple layers and still snuggling a quilt around her shoulders like an arthritic auntie would. Her hair is dressed in her signature top knot, notably without a cap, and her cheeks are reddened from the frigid air. And still she sits, quietly watching a pair of dragons wade through the shallows of the lake. "This is my brooding bench," Lya informs her friend as her patch-work shoulder sack is thumped onto it, "Only everyone keeps using it for other things lately. Are you brooding? Or something else?" She queries as she flops onto the end. Her approach was hardly silent, and her manner is of the expected, so maybe this was a planned meeting. She wears more layers than an onion, ending up only looking frumpy, if warm. The top most is a long grey sweater that comes to her mid-thigh and has seen better days, sporting a few holes. Not a man given to lingering around the lake for no reason, and certainly not brooding around it like a woman, the bronzerider is instead on one of his typical jogging paths. He's not as well dressed as the girls, no doubt counting on his constant movement to keep him warm enough to deal with the chill. So his pausing near their bench as he passes is probably not meant to be much more than that; a pause. "Girls," is his greeting. "What've I happened upon here?" "Our brooding bench. You have to share." The other's girl approach gains a pinched smile, caused by the cold in her cheeks rather than animosity. "I'm tired of being stuck in a series of caves. Listening to them go on and on and on--" Farideh doesn't specify the who, though. She reaches out a hand to pick up and inspect the hem of Lycinea's threadbare sweater. "I thought you learned how to patch your things," she says, frowning. On the verge of another statement, her lips are already parted when she glances up and takes in H'vier's approach. "H'vier. Good afternoon. We're having a girl's chat. Girl things." "Well, I already had to share it with that leper boy, so." Evidently sharing with Farideh isn't a stretch after that; it's probably better even. "I did." This is defensive. "I found this in the lost and found." Uh. Gross? Well. It's Lya, so. She glances away from her friend to find the bronzerider. Only after Farideh does Lya speak with perhaps mock uncertainty. "'That time of the month' and frilly dresses? I might have to go..." She starts to shift as if she might actually before quirking a mischievous smile at Farideh. "Farideh was just going to tell me what the squawkers in the caverns have been saying." She volunteers for H'vier in a way that welcomes him to linger. Farideh will thank her for that, right? "A girl's chat. That sounds fascinating." H'vier is probably being sarcastic. It probably doesn't sound that fascinating to him. He lifts a hand to readjust his knitted hat as he looks between the pair of him as though he's not entirely sure he wants to stay. But he hasn't left yet. "Have they been saying anything interesting?" he wonders. This might be the deciding factor of his continued presence. "Lycinea," Farideh reprimands, "there's no lepers here." She sighs and snuggles the quilt tighter around her face, its colorful patches brushing her jawbone, and allows the conversation to flow around her; each is given a generous stare. "All of the same, mostly. Who won what flight, talk of Nabol and the thieves and why no one has done anything yet, about the wheat problem." Her shoulders lift in an unconcerned shrug. "Nothing new, certainly." "There was, but he's not anymore," Lya answers Farideh's reprimand with a rolled eye and these muttered words. "But that doesn't mean he's not still a leper-boy." Rhey will always be a leper-boy. Always. "I thought the thieves were caught, in Nabol," at least that's what the kitchen gossip has said. She cocks her head looking back to Farideh and then glancing to H'vier as if one of them might know otherwise. "And aren't they talking about Igen? They are in the kitchens. Who looked mad coming out of the conclave, that Tillek didn't agree and said so," she waves a hand. "I'd think that'd be all you were thinking about, Farideh. Igen, Igen, and more Igen. Sand, sand, and more sand." She turns her head to stick out her tongue briefly at Farideh. If H'vier doesn't look particularly impressed by their topics of gossip, it might just be because it's gossip. Or because they're teenage girls. "Don't you two have better things to talk about? Like fashion," though he glances briefly at Lya, knowing that's sort of ridiculous, "Or who Farideh isn't letting under her skirts. I can't imagine either of you have any thoughts worthwhile enough to share about thieves and wheat and flights." "They were, but no one knows what happened," and her voice has that duh quality to it. "Are they locked up somewhere? Working the mines? Tossed between?" Farideh purses her lips, as if thinking on those possibilities, but her eyes pull towards H'vier and one corner of her mouth quirks up with amusement. "Like how you aren't anymore?" Her smile extends into a full one, without teeth, and she cants her head towards him. "I have plenty of worthwhile thoughts--" And then her head whips around to Lycinea. "What!? That was today? The Conclave met? Tell me everything." It's just as Farideh addresses H'vier that Lya speaks too, "If you want us to talk about you, you could just say so," and their similar take on the bronzerider's words makes her giggle. Then she's looking to Farideh with surprise, "I didn't pay any attention. I was sure you were going to tell me everything later. I only know that Lord Joremy was confirmed and that Tillek didn't like it. And maybe some others, but I'm not... I don't know?" She had been so sure that now she looks nearly disappointed before looking to H'vier, "Do you know anything? About Igen and all?" He's older and wiser. Maybe he's paid attention? H'vier only smiles at them pleasantly. He doesn't rise to the bait. Maybe them playing at political gossips is too amusing for any of that. Or maybe he's not actually interested in Farideh's skirts anymore. "If I did know anything, I wouldn't be sharing my opinions with children that don't value them in the first place. "Lord Joremy was confirmed--" Farideh parrots, quietly. "Tillek didn't agree? Tillek voted to keep Wulfan?" Her brow is puckered and her fingers keep twisting about the edges of her quilt. "I hadn't heard. Viona had me sorting linens in the stores all day and then-- I came here. For quiet." She chews on the side of her mouth, but spares H'vier a long, stern look. "We aren't children. We're young women and we're full of opinions. Yea, ones that don't always match yours." "If you don't stop calling me a child, I'm going to throw a mud ball at you and then put worms in your bed," Lycinea says it to H'vier with one of her brightest, warmest smiles. Then she looks at him plaintively, "If you do know something, would you be so kind as to tell us? Since I've failed in my duties of bringing Farideh the latest gossip." It would clearly be a favor to Lycinea personally. Does that count for anything? Probably not. "I'm sure you can hear it all in the kitchen if you wanted something to eat. I shouldn't go though," it's an aside that isn't explained. Lya is sometimes safer away from the kitchen. "Uh, huh," says H'vier as though he's very unimpressed, but possibly amused, with all of this. "You'll hear stuff soon enough. And, Lya, I thought we had a truce that included you staying away from my bed." The bronzerider offers her in particular a charming sort of smile that probably doesn't seem like him at all, then he says, "I need to get moving, girls." And then he's moving because he needs to keep warm somehow and it won't be with either of these two. Farideh is thinking and thinking hard. Her eyes flick up to follow the bronzerider's passage, before going back to Lycinea, with that selfsame furrow between her brows. "I need to know. I have to find out. You won't think me rude if I-" But she stands up without waiting for Lycinea's approval. "I want to go listen. Now. It would mean a lot to me if you would, too. We can compare notes? We can meet up, again, here, later? Or the Snowasis, where it's warm and there's drinks." She wrinkles her nose and reaches a hand to squeeze her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I need to know." And she's off, walking at a fairly fast pace for herself, towards the lower caverns in search of gossip. |
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