Logs:Novelty
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 12 June, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi stops by for a tour. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cold. |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Anatolia/Mentions |
  |
| The snowfall has stopped by nighttime, but it is intolerably cold, even if the dunes out in the bowl sparkle in the silvery cast of moonlight; a romantic scene really. Nighttime is when Farideh catches up on her work from the day -- the things she couldn't get to during weyrling duties, goldrider training, or her organization of Turnover -- and relaxes, with a glass of wine. She's sitting on the couch now, curled up with a fluffy pillow and a stack of hides that she's skimming through, wearing a perpetual frown and creases on her forehead. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Telavi breaks through a crust of ice with every step, with a bit of a wrinkle of her nose beneath her cap and above her scarf, even though it's not as though Solith had dropped her off so very far away. Speaking of Solith, surely Tela would have asked her to let Roszadyth know, but whether that made it through the draconic grapevine... she's about to find out as finally she can greet the still-little queen with a, "Hello, hello!" and stomp that pesky snow off her boots as she makes it through the tunnel. "Farideh? Farideh," precedes her. Even little dragons sleeps! But Roszadyth lifts her head when Telavi enters, watching the greenrider's snow-stomping procession with contentedly-whirling eyes. By the time Telavi calls her name, Farideh is already glancing toward the entryway. "Telavi." She swings her feet onto the floor, but only goes so far as to scoot to the end of the couch and set her hidework on the low table. "Come in," she says by way of greeting, dragging one hand through her tousled hair. "It's a mess-- I hadn't had a chance to-well." Only, it's half true, because there are hides and papers strewn across the surface of that long, wide table, and her inspiration board by the hearth is looking a little put upon to, but the rest of her space -- as much as Telavi can see without stepping into the bedroom -- is tidy. There are no signs that Telavi has designs upon invading Farideh's bedroom; no, warming up is far more important, the greenrider slow to divest herself of layers with the scarf as first to go. It's a fuzzy thing, llama thickly woven, and even after a few rounds unwrapped there's still more to go. Meanwhile, airily, "Oh, I've seen worse." But in the next breath, Z'kiel isn't bothering you about it, is he?" The weyrling watches as the scarf unwinds and keeps unwinding. "Z'kiel? No? Why would he care if my weyr was-- oh, he is particular, but-- he hasn't been here yet. I thought he was still in the barracks too." Farideh glances to the sideboard, and then back at Telavi. "Won't you be glad when we're all moved out and all of that noise is gone?" To that, Tela presses her lips together, a dimple showing fleetingly; but, "What, no tours? People filing in and out, being particular?" She too glances towards the sideboard, still unwinding; a couple turns later, it's revealed that she still does have a neck after all. More slowly, "I suppose I will. Less noise, less overseeing, less mess. I'd say we should have a party, but Turnover is coming," that with a curiously smiling glance. "Everyone has come to see. I guess it's a novelty? Most people don't get to see the inside of a weyrwoman's weyr, unless they choose to have their flight in them, right? And mostly--" Farideh sighs, heavily. "They bring me hard stuff to drink." And on that note, she stands, moving to the sideboard, where there are fresh bottles of wine and other liquor. "That should be a big enough party to last people weeks, and then there will be a graduation party in another six months? We could come up with something between then. Because we feel like it party?" There's a mischievous smile thrown back at Telavi and a gesture towards the drinks. "Anything?" 'Unless they'-- Tela's eyes round, and then she spills over laughing. Which doesn't stop her from spotting what Farideh's doing and, complementarily, going the opposite way to bring over one of those chairs to perch upon. Upon her return, "Absolutely. Pick something," mischief for mischief, "you think I'd like." The smile on Farideh's face widens at Telavi's laughter, but she busies herself grabbing two clean glasses from the bottom cabinets and filling them both with white wine. She brings one to Telavi and then, after it's passed off, takes hers back to the couch. "How has your day been? It's cold," which is obvious, but she still states it, with a displeased wrinkling of her nose. Tela accepts the wine gracefully, of course she does, without even a wistful glance at the sideboard. At least, not yet. "Isn't it, though? I won't say whom I overheard saying her nose hairs were freezing off..." though there's that dimple again, right before she loses her cap and undoes a button or two. Right before she circles back to, "You did mean... weyrwomen choosing to have their flights in their weyrs so the male-riders would see them then? Because for a moment there, I thought you meant other people just sort of randomly choosing to have their flights here or wandering in like the all-the-flights all-the-time time and--" she can't help but laugh again. "That's--" Farideh scrunches up her nose again, and takes a drink from her glass. "What? Oh, yes. I meant weyrwomen having their flights in their own weyrs, and the male-riders showing up and seeing it then, not--" She has the grace to blush a tiny bit. "That would be embarrassing and unfortunate. I would come home from a long day of working-- wanting for a drink and a bath, and lo, there's a flight in progress in my weyr." A rueful smile follows and another, less delicate sip. "Ugh," Telavi agrees whole-heartedly. "At least... but we don't need to talk about flights yet-- or has Irianke already?-- and really, it's your weyr that's important now. How are you liking it?" She's on her feet again, leaving her coat behind, looking. "What are you thinking of doing with it? Other than keeping it warm and not freezing and also warm?" "No, not yet-- not, no. We kind of avoid talking about it because neither of us want Roszadyth to rise first, but it's still--" Farideh frowns, following Telavi's form with her eyes. "I haven't decided completely. I haven't had the time to-- decorate. It came with the basics, and," she rises, much more slowly, and turns to survey the unadorned walls, "my mother keeps sending things she thinks I'll like. Our tastes in things have never really matched. What do you think?" That frown meets with a dimple, and Telavi's making a show of putting her hands behind her back. "I think," she says, and there's a pause where she could talk about the other weyrwoman instead, but no. "If you don't think you would like it once she stops pushing it at you," and there's evidence that she can't keep her hands contained for long, she just has to gesture with one, "you might figure out what you do want, and then see whether you can have what she sent you made into what you want," here she's fingering one of the mirrors leaning against the wall, "or trade it for what you like better." It's one long drift of a sentence, one musing thought that lingers in the end on the girl who has all these things. "They're all beautifully crafted pieces, but some are blocky and dark, some are gaudy and too much. She's always favored masculine shapes and bright colors like true Igenites do." Farideh probably doesn't even realize her slip, as she follows Telavi towards the mirrors, wine glass still in her right hand. "Back at home, I had a blue room," is filled with laughter. "All of the walls were painted blue and my linens were white, with blue trim, and I had a bunch of blue pillows, and elaborate tapestries in mostly blues, golds, and silvers. I think-- I don't think I want-- that, again. I'm twenty now." She says it with some pride, but she's looking at Telavi with uncertainty. "Maybe light colors? Gray?" The slip's worth a sip of her wine, lest Tela peek far less discreetly; her lashes drop in thought as Farideh describes this room, this amazing room, her smile for a moment pensive. Only, "Grays, golds and silver?" she says, gently teases, when her gaze lifts. It doesn't need an answer necessarily; it comes with Telavi's starting to wonder, "Do you like colors about you that you like to wear? Do you want this to be a place that's more neutral and you can change just pops of color here and there? Should it be relaxing, rejuvenating... bland and boring so it's easier to get people to shoo?" "Relaxing, rejuvenating, mine." That answer comes easily enough. "I wear a lot of blue," is replied laughingly, "and golds, and neutrals. My mother swore I looked divine in purple. Purple! Can you imagine?" Farideh shudders and steps towards the wardrobe, running a finger over the delicate woodworking on the side. "I've gotten plenty of furniture from her that's dark, with red or purple upholstery, and these dreary, dark tapestries she expects me to put on the walls," comes with a tired sigh. Telavi just looks at her, less a physical step back than a moment in silence. Farideh too falls silent for a spell, and then turns abruptly towards Telavi. "Sorry. I'm open to suggestions. I don't have any heart set on anything except the idea of tranquility and home." Telavi's eyes are so blue, if not precisely tranquil. "'Home is where... not your mother is'?" she says, lightly. "If you have access to the stores... you could borrow fabric, lengths of it, to try different things and see what feels right. A friend has driftwood-colored things in her weyr, that's tranquil for her, but I don't know if it would be for you? It's more, not what it looks like when you look at it, but how it feels when you wander around in it... and then find something like it, that's real." "I might want something that reminds me of--" Farideh presses her lips together and glances back, towards the hearth and the couch. "My old home. It would be counterproductive to fitting in, but it would give me comfort at least. I'm not much more the snow and all that llama wool." Even if Telavi has that extra long llama wool scarf! "I might just-- scrounge around the stores and see what I can find. Neutrals are calming. White. What does your weyr look like?" "Comfort is nice," Telavi murmurs, and her gaze wanders to that very same scarf. Then she's wandering to it too, one light step at a time. "Not white," she says with a glance over her shoulder. "It's so... harsh, I think. A-- friend of mine has a weyr all in white, and she likes it, but then she doesn't have to clean it. I don't mind if you'd like to come over and see, sometime." She hasn't quite finished her drink when she sets it down, exchanging it for all the warmer pieces she'd earlier removed. "I'd love to," Farideh replies, following the greenrider back towards her cold weather outerwear. "See your weyr whenever we both have time." She doesn't set down her own glass, though she does perch on the arm of the nearest chair, watching Telavi quietly. You paged K'del with 'Yep. XD'. Telavi's gaze is caught near the hearth, and the working board there; she doesn't linger. Neither is she in a great hurry, though she is thorough. Rather, over her shoulder, "They might be able to sand down some of your furniture, take away the dark stain so it's light again. Let me know when you figure it out? What you like?" A quick smile, and a now-gloved wave, is her 'good night.' |
Leave A Comment