Logs:Nothing (Something) Happened
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| RL Date: 16 November, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, X'vae, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nothing happened, only something did and maybe people come to terms with it, or not. |
| Where: Greenhouse, Bowl, and Ready for Roommates Weyr (X'vae and Z'riah's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 4, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edeline/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Kristaeva/Mentions, Moriyah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult themes/crudeness. Angst. Back-dated. Thanks to K'del for letting this be an RP hook! |
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| Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora. Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit. Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
With the advent of spring - and to those hopeful souls - the coming of milder weather, there are certain weyrfolk who find themselves outside more often than in. Farideh is one of those, and has chosen today to make a trip into the cool, damp climate of the weyrbowl. It's there that she spies the former Monacoan bluerider exiting the Weyrleader's ledge, but it's her companions - a brown and green rider of Reachian origin - who comment on the odd occurrence; they, however, have drills to get to and it's an otherwise unoccupied laundress who does the dirty work of following X'vae's trail from the ledge towards the greenhouse and then, within. She is quiet, for all her lack of stalking skills, and stops just inside the greenhouse's entryway, letting the door close behind her. Her bulky winter clothing is out of place here, in the warm interior, and especially, her boots cause quite a problem when she tries tip-toeing silently after the dragonrider, only to have them creak and squeak from moisture. X'vae jerks around at the sound of the squeaking boots and his eyes are wet. Obviously, this has to be some effect from transferring from cool damp to warm moist. His hand rises up and swiftly rubs across his eyes. "Farideh," he greets after briefly clearing his throat. He can (and will) pretend nothing's up. "You're looking well," even if her bulky clothes are perhaps not the most flattering. Guilt would be the obvious emotion to display upon being caught following someone around, but Farideh copies X'vae's 'nothing happened' stance. Her fingers knit behind her back and she graces him with an effusive smile. "I'm just happy the weather is becoming warmer. I've never been enamored with the snow or the way the clouds hide the sun," she replies, glancing around the greenhouse, as if expecting Z'riah to pop out from behind some shrubbery. "How are you? Well?" "Fine, good, great." X'vae's answer indicates anything but, but they can just pretend about that too, can't they? "The weather's great. A nice change." He agrees too quickly. There is no Z'riah to pop out and save them from such obvious avoidance, and probably they would be better off with him making a hasty excuse, but instead, he follows her glance and seems to think it appropriate to invite, "Come for a walk with me?" Presumably here in the heat. Arguing trivialities like if this conversation is even real isn't worth Farideh's time, so she goes along instead, stepping closer with that same amiable smile in place. "Sure, where would you like to walk to? I fear these aren't the gardens of Ista or the orchards of Fort, but it will do, hm?" Her eyes lift to meet the much taller man's blues. "It has its own sort of charm," X'vae offers, of the greenhouse. "We could stroll down to the lake, if you like. You've been to the far end where there are those trees that hang over and there's benches?" He's not a holder, so it's his hand that's offered to her instead of his arm. "Unless you prefer the heat here?" He nods to indicate the space they're in. "I haven't ever been that far," Farideh admits, without shame, before turning quizzical eyes on the hand he offers. "I didn't have any plans on either." She must not put too much stock in the hand-holding, for that's exactly what she does - placing her hand in his and deferring to the bluerider on location. "You don't have somewhere to be? People to meet?" "No. Drills were this morning. I'm done for the day. Sweeps first thing." Good times! X'vae doesn't seem to ascribe any special significance to the hand-holding, maybe he's just one of those touchy people. At any rate, he uses the connection to direct them back the way they came and to where he suggested. "Is it a good idea or a bad one to apologize again for what happened the last time we saw each other?" A long time ago. "I still have that gift for you." Maybe that reminder will help of it was a bad idea after all. "That's nice," Farideh says, of his duty-less-ness, and walks beside the bluerider leading her out of the greenhouse again and towards the lake, presumably. "I've forgotten all about it already. I didn't think you were serious about the gift." Her hand squeezes his and her face brightens with a smile. "What is it? Not something to eat, hopefully. Something to wear?" Because, clothes. For now, she's forgotten the ledge-leaving on his part. X'vae manages a smile though it's lacking in some of his usual warmth. He's still off, but then, for men who don't tear up regularly, it's not likely something to be erased so quickly. "Remember my talking about the rosemaled stuff that Lady Edeline had taken a liking to?" All that very long time ago in the living cavern. "I couldn't afford much, but-- I got a small bit of it. On a pincushion. I hoped you sewed, or knew someone who did who could get you what you wanted by giving to them or--" Now he's babbling and he seems to realize so he stops, giving her side-long glance and a blushing apology. "Sorry. I hope you'll like it." That's what he was getting at, yep. Farideh is focused on watching the ground just a foot in front of her toes, as they walk, and so it might be hard to distinguish if she has any passable response; until she turns her head towards X'vae again. "Yes," she says, confirming that she does remember, and her eyes light up when he explains what that has to do with her gift. "I do, but I haven't, in a while. My mother used to say my stitches needed to be as tiny as a grain of salt, and I would sit for hours upon hours. You can imagine I was glad to be rid of it." She graces him with a happy smile, showing teeth. "I've the free time and the patience now. Thank you, though you really didn't have to." "As tiny as that," X'vae murmurs, attention perhaps distracted, but there's some trace of amusement there. "Well, however you get use from it, I hope--" He shrugs. "It seemed like a good idea. Still does, really. I'll drop it by for you sometime, unless you'd like to go up and get it now?" The rider gestures to the colorful blue some distance off in the bowl. "I don't think Z'riah is home," if that helps. He probably doesn't think how this might sound. "As tiny as that and smaller," Farideh responds cheerfully, reaching a hand to tuck wayward strands behind her ear. "Whatever is easiest. I'm sure the gossips will love it." If he doesn't get her reference, she's not likely to explain, but has a larger-than-necessary grin plastered onto her suntanned face. "Lead the way, fine sir," all jaunty like. If he follows her, he doesn't seem to have anything to say about it. There's a brief introduction between the laundress and the blue who warbles affably before crouching so the pair can mount, the man offering Farideh any assistance she desires. The flight is swift and the landing neat and there's help for the laundress on the other side too, if she wishes before X'vae leads the way into the shared bachelor pad.
Inside, though, the humans are in for a surprise. A long rift in the stone makes for a narrow living room with rough walls, the furniture spartan and homemade from, seemingly, whatever materials could be snagged in a pinch (barrels, planks, etc.). There are stools rather than chairs, a couch that has seen better days (but might be just the right amount of broken in) and a trio of mis-matched beanbag chairs (one of which must have a hole somewhere) in front of the hearth. But the far side--that's the real treasure here. Four separate rooms have been carved out of the stone, two small ones a step up from the living room, one slightly larger one above them, and a tiny little alcove above that. They're all lacking a front wall, leaving them open to the room below. Of the two on the bottom, the one directly under all the rest has a twin bed, a nightstand above it, a small rug beside it, and a press at its foot. The one less under the rest is full of a bed; it's just about the only thing that fits in the room. The larger one above has dressers that don't match and a round table and chairs that look perfect for poker (or work). The highest one has yet to be populated by anything other than being storage space for as yet packed items. A set of stone stairs leads up to the upper room, while sturdy handholds have been carved up from it to the alcove. All in all, it's a great find for a rider with a family or maybe even just a group of good friends.
Entering someone's private domain - their weyr even - for the first time is always short of awkward, but Farideh manages not to mention anything rude.. yet. She takes a minute to peer around, folding her hands delicate in front of her jacket like she could be a real lady, and then, after her cursory inspection in complete, she offers X'vae a smile. "It's nice," she lies through her teeth, waiting for the bluerider to direct her attentions; Z'riah is either being ignored or.. probably ignored. There was no warning because X'vae is surprised to see him. "Thought you had something this afternoon," he greets, giving Farideh a look of apology, if only because he inadvertently lied to her. "It's-- uh, it's just in my room." His room, with the twin bed. He doesn't invite her to the room, but it's not like she can't see him (and follow if she wants) as he moves to the press at the end of his bed and bends (nice view!) to dig into the chest. "Farideh came for her gift," is offered as explanation to the greenrider. "I got a letter from my mother." Probably also to the greenrider, "Finally." He only wrote her after turnover. Z'riah is sitting up now, hacky sack thing in his hand while he shifts his gaze from X'vae to Farideh and back. "What gift?" Is he supposed to know? Hopefully not, because Zif seems clueless. "Is it a dildo? That wouldn't be very fair. You know I've always wanted one of my own." The greenrider rises, content to mostly ignore Farideh, too. "She have anything worthwhile to say?" The laundress moves further into the weyr, at a slower pace, but stops a distance from the rooms. She's content to give Z'riah a look and a lip twist that might be construed as pulling a face at him; but for X'vae she's all smiles, hands still folded. "No, he said he got me flowers on a pin-cushion," Farideh says, and turns so her back is to the greenrider as she continues her casual perusal of their cozy roommates weyr. "Manners, Zif," is intoned in a way that suggests it's said a lot (and ignored a lot). "She's not pregnant. That's all it said. Mother didn't even sign her name." There's a heavy sigh, probably both for the news and the implications of his mother's manner. X'vae continues to dig, pulling out a myriad of other things, like rope and climbing picks, surfboard wax and a kite. Who knew these were things that apparently need to be kept close at hand? "Ahh, found it." A small fabric-wrapped item is produced, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. Ugh, manners. Z'riah rolls his eyes, but they refocus on the bluerider again after a moment, the moment he needs to realize who X'vae is talking about, and then he's venturing, "That's a good thing, isn't it?" It is for him, anyway. He probably hasn't heard better news in a while! "Is that why you're getting flowers for other girls?" "Should I leave? If you two have business to discuss," Farideh says, turning back to give both men unimpressed stares. "No," is an answer for Z'riah. "Did she lose the baby? What happened?" He's both momentarily exasperated and annoyed. "I'm not there to find out, I can't go there to find out and you know Arrajynth won't tell Zaz anything." X'vae sighs, "We can talk about this later," but apparently he had to say that first part before heading for Farideh with yet another look of apology, offering the gift forward. That should help the apology, right? Z'riah almost says something, but he catches himself and doesn't. That probably means that he shouldn't have said it in the first place. He stays silent as he watches X'vae present Farideh with her gift, gaze lingering more on the latter since she's the new element in the weyr. Farideh takes the gift, scooping it up into her palm where she can scrutinize the pretty hand-painted flowers and the velvet cushion. "Thank you, X'vae, it's beautiful. You really really didn't have to," she says, finally, and offers him a fleeting smile. Her gaze strays to Z'riah, followed by a frown. "Anything to put a smile on your face," X'vae offers in return to Farideh's thanks; it doesn't sound fake, but he does sound tired. Obviously, there's been some emotional upheaval. "Zaz and I can take you back down now, unless--?" He glances to the greenrider dubiously. They want to hang out in their pajamas and have a pillow fight, right? No? He starts for the ledge, saying, "I'll be back," to his roommate, though the bluerider doesn't turn his head. Unless nothing. Z'riah turns away from the pair to go flop back down on his bed. That dull thud is probably the hacky sack getting thrown against the wall so the greenrider is left rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling with nothing to toss at it. Apparently he'll give X'vae and Farideh privacy. Just not so much that he's leaving or anything. Plenty of things could be said, overreactions pushed into action, but Farideh settles for a sigh. She lets X'vae start off towards the ledge ahead of her, turning her head to give Z'riah a displeased glare; still, she doesn't want to be stuck in the weyr with the latter, so she hurries after the bluerider and away from his roommate.
With a graciousness born of turns of thanking people and executing meticulous manners, her new treasure safely ensconced in a coat pocket, Farideh slips down with X'vae's help and brushes the wisps of hair that have fallen into her face back with her fingers. "Don't worry about it. I won't hold his unfavorable disposition against you," she says with a warm smile. She takes a moment to consider him, hazel eyes studying his face. "What were you doing? In the Weyrleader's weyr? They said he wasn't here and that that was weird, and.." Her brows draw together as she continues to study his face, openly curious of his motives. "He's really a good per-" X'vae had started to say in answer to her opinion of Z'riah (a defense he's made so often he could do it in his sleep), only her question brings him up short. There's an immediate embarrassed or perhaps guilty flush to his cheeks. "He isn't," is the first thing, and the most immediate thing he can think to say. "I-- there's... history in that weyr, you know? Monaco history. 'Reaches history." Just history. "It happened when I was a weyrling. I felt like--" His explanation is anything but concise, but it doesn't seem like he's coming up with explanations, just having a hard time putting things into words. "I had to see where it happened. Only that's not the kind of thing you ask your weyrleader for. Especially since... you know." The story, in the early stages, draws a slight smile from the laundress as she waits out the finishing, but somewhere halfway through Farideh starts looking more and more blank. "What happened?" As much as Holders know of their own history, it's obvious this particular detail has eluded her. That Farideh doesn't know makes X'vae swallow hard and he has to look at his dragon for a moment, his dragon whose croon is soft, who shifts his bulk so that his head can draw down to be 'part' of the conversation, almost, or at least so his rider can shift and hold out a hand to stroke his muzzle. It's Izazeth that X'vae focuses his green-today eyes on. "A brownrider from Monaco was clutchsiring here and he poisoned the senior goldrider. The exile queen. K'del's lover, Iolene." Surely Farideh has heard this name somewhere before, hasn't she? He looks in her direction, earnest gaze searching her face for recognition or maybe something else. "She died in his weyr." Any unease Farideh may feel - if any at all - is concealed, once the blue comes near; her eyes shifting over to take in the muzzle and X'vae's touches. Her eyes grudgingly move back to the bluerider's face, her eyes remaining bank up until the end; but it's the sight pucker between her brows, the dawning recognition that overwhelms her obliviousness. "Iolene." Familiarity - who doesn't know that name? Of a tragic death, though far removed from the Holdbred girl's world in the past. "She died in his weyr?" She turns her head to the side, frowning. "How morbid. How can he sleep, knowing that?" Shifting her head, just that little bit, she looks up at X'vae, the corners of her generous mouth still dipping down. "I'm sorry. Was he a friend of yours?" This murderer. But even murderers have friends. "Yeah." That's the best he can come up with for confirming that Iolene died there. X'vae swallows hard and then shakes his head, hand stilling on his lifemate's muzzle. It's quieter and he forces himself to look at Farideh. "Yes." A friend. "We grew up together. In Monaco. The three of us. Z'riah, I'kris, and I. And others too," they weren't the only ones. Being a listener, for once, all Farideh does is lend him her ear. "I'm sorry," she says in a quiet voice, attempting to meet his blue-green eyes with her own. "We can't decide how our friends will turn out, or even if they will.." She catches her breath, on the verge of saying the word "murder" but chooses instead, "pick a path we would deem unseemly. You can still honor your memory of him, as he was." She assumes that's what's got him upset, and not the fact that he was somehow wrongly accused and disposed of. X'vae is silent some long moments. "I never understood it. Not even after it came out. What Ysavaeth did. The faked flight. Even that wouldn't justify..." The bluerider trails off looking something more than troubled, disturbed. "I didn't speak to him, when he came home. Before..." Before he was gone. He clears his throat abruptly, "Anyway. I should get back up. Explain the letter from my mother." He offers Farideh an apologetic smile. "Yeah, you should. I'm sure he has all kinds of ideas," Farideh says with a fluttery sigh and a grin. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'll see you around?" She lifts one hand, wiggling her fingers, and turns to make her way back to the lower caverns.
By the time X'vae gets back, Z'riah has settled himself into a bean bag instead, sprawled a little haphazardly in the sort of way that might look comfortable to a feline, but not so much a human. Except that he seems quite content there, even as he watches his friend pour himself a drink with a frown. "She can try. But you know how she is." Whichever she he means, X'vae probably knows. "Is that really all your mom said?" "That's really all." X'vae answers, sighing, moving toward the hearth with his drink, snagging up a crumpled page he must have intended for the flames but didn't care enough to pick up after the botched shot. He tosses the ball at Z'riah. "See for yourself." Once he has the ball, Z'riah unrumples it as well as it needs to be for him to glance over the words. "It's for the best. You know that, right? You'd be miserable having a kid with her." And he's not even calling her horrible names. That should count for something, surely. Of course his manners would improve once their guest is gone. "Yeah, maybe." X'vae doesn't sound convinced, but he'll not protest Z'riah's attempt to cheer him up. He sips at his drink. "I went to see where it happened." He says it just like that. "Where she died." In K'del's weyr. Presumably, he didn't say pretty please to the man who loved her and wouldn't appreciate the intrusion into his private weyr. Z'riah knows the who immediately. But he doesn't know the, "Why?" And he doesn't even seem sure himself if that's a rhetorical question or if he actually thinks X'vae has some sort of an answer. "I don't know." The coincidentally blonde man replies. "I thought maybe being there I could understand the point of it all." The way X'vae sighs says physical proximity didn't do anything for him. "I was going to ask Riyah if we could name the baby..." shaking his head. "It doesn't matter now. There's no baby. I'm not going to be a father. Not now, anyway." He drinks deeply. As a person who has done drastic things to get attention, positive or negative, and/or approval from his father, or father figures, Z'riah frowns consideringly at X'vae's mention of trying to understand the point. Instead, "Just because your baby isn't coming out of her doesn't mean you're never gonna be a father. And when you are, I'm sure you'll be great at it. Just like you are at everything else." The last sounds serious but is obviously teasing. The last has a more direct effect in provoking some reaction that isn't depressed. When Z'riah teases, X'vae is required to roll his eyes at his friend. He sighs. "Does it make me a bad person to admit I'm just the tiniest bit relieved?" This comes after draining his glass and heading for a refill. "Fuck no," is Z'riah's impulsive answer. Quickly followed by, "Of course not. Not even a little bit. For Faranth's sake, Xev, you should be more than a tiny bit relieved." He won't say just how relieved he is, granted, but the fact that he is is probably pretty apparent now. Clearly, Z'riah's just a very caring friend. X'vae sighs and finally offers, "Drink?" Since he hasn't left the refill station yet. "It's just that I don't feel ready for that kind of responsibility." The alcohol must be what provides the next low admission, "I guess I wasn't wholly convinced that Riyah is The One for me. I was maybe only seventy-five percent there, and shells but I'd like to be ninety or a hundred percent before I'm having babies with anyone." Then he glances to the fire and in a sudden return of conscience, "Damn shame about the baby, though." Because she lost it. That must be what happened, right? "Please." Z'riah only rarely turns down drinks. Especially when they're bro-ing it up. He'll even push himself up out of the bean bag to make his way closer to X'vae doesn't have to leave the booze. Or even get him a drink, because he can do that himself once he gets there. "I can't imagine ever having them on purpose, honestly. I'd be horrible at being a dad, anyway." Clearly because his own is so bad at it. "Are you sure there was ever actually a baby at all?" he has to venture. The look X'vae gives his 'bro' is dubious. It's probably as much for his assertion about fatherhood as the questioning of Moriyah's obviously pure intentions and innocent honor. It earns him a thump on the shoulder since he's close enough. "She said there was, didn't she?" That's good enough for the bluerider, obviously it should be good enough for Everyone. And, "Wouldn't my mother-" who didn't even sign her name to her note, "-tell me if there hadn't been a baby?" He drinks. "For what it's worth, Zif, I think you'll make a great dad, if you want to be one." When you set your mind to it and all that bullshit. Bullshit X'vae definitely believes. Z'riah will take the thump without retribution because maybe he deserves that. Or at least doesn't think X'vae deserves it being returned right now. "Your mother said she wasn't pregnant. Not that she wasn't pregnant anymore." Never mind that the greenrider is kind of grasping at anything without outright attacking the woman in question. "Let's hope we never have to find out," about him being a dad. He'll even raise a glass to that. That makes X'vae frown and enter brooding silence mode. At least brooding silence mode includes more drinking so how long can it last really before the drink gets the better of him? At least long enough to make a X'vae-shaped indent in one of the beanbag chairs. He takes the bottle with him. It can't be said that Z'riah isn't patient with his friend. He's sort of obligated to be, considering what he makes X'vae put up with from him. Once the bluerider is ready to talk again, the greenrider will have had enough to drink of his own to make sure the subject stays lighter and more conducive to not-brooding. Boobs. That's always a good one. No brooding necessary. |
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