Logs:Persie Moves to High Reaches
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| RL Date: 23 November, 2007 |
| Who: Persie, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 26, Month 4, Turn 14 (Interval 10) |
| Out on the ledge, Wyaeth lands without greeting or prelude, with a heavy thump as his lanky form lights on the stone, the scrape of gray talons only long enough to deposit N'thei before the bronze breaks out over the bowl again. With a snicker, with a dip of his head to the ball o' green, N'thei strolls across the ledge to the weyr, calling, "A little blond rumor has come to my attention..." Secath realizes that there's a bronze careening toward her ledge quickly enough for her to get up and move aside to give him space. She is, however, a bit irritated that he doesn't stay long enough to appreciate the pretty curve of her cheek or anything. Huff! She tosses her head, watching as Wyaeth turns out over the bowl again and completely ignoring the man he left behind. And, with Secath so caught up in her own displeasure, she doesn't bother to alert Persie. In the girl's surprise her socked feet slip out from underneath her and she suddenly goes from pushing the bed to clinging to it to keep from falling right on her face. It takes a moment for her to get her feet beneath her and to get that wide-eyed look of shock off of her face, but when she does there's a big sheepish smile in its place. "Hi. You're here." But that's lame and she laughs a little to hear herself say it. "I mean, you came here." It seems she didn't really expect it. "So I have." And bearing gifts; N'thei presents what looks like a pink quartz washbasin filled with oranges, as strange a pairing as that might be. Not a large basin, only for washing hands and face perhaps, but heavy enough that he hastens to place it in the middle of the bed. From there, it's an amused look to the slippery-socked feet. "You seem surprised? I've lived here for quite some time now. Shouldn't I be the one surprised that /you/ are here?" Is he still talking? Because Persie only knows that there's a pink (pink!) wash basin of fruit in his arms. Now she's just blinking with her mouth slow to move. "What.. what's all that? You brought that for me? But..." But she can't help but smile and catch her lip in her teeth as he sets the basin down. "Well, I- I am surprised. But I didn't mean to -be- a surprise, though. I guess I am. And now you're... you're bringing me stuff." She doesn's say 'again', but it's there anyway. N'thei agrees pleasantly, "I have. For you. Weyr-warming gift. I wanted it with limes, you know. Pink and green. But." He picks an orange off the top now that it's settled, tosses it on his palm, then smiles upon Persie once more. "What are you doing here, dear little girl? Why would you leave Fort?" But she just grins at him, bright as the colorful gift he's brought, and answers none of his questions. Instead, as she drops onto the bed to pluck up an orange for herself and start peeling - the scent instantly fills the weyr. "You're different here." Having himself a little stroll around the room, fingernails tearing absently at the orange peel, N'thei nods here and there like he has an eye for architecture or decorating. "No, I'm the same everywhere really. Bit of a hole in the wall we've put you in, isn't it?" He finds pause near the fireplace, as there must be a fireplace in a Reaches weyr, and tosses orange peels into it; "Why've you left Fort?" Persie shakes her blonde head, completely certain. "No, you're different here. Not like you were at Fort." She pauses from her peeling to set a hand on the edge of the pink basin, and idle move. "It's not too much of a hole. I mean, it's just empty. But I'll fix it up and then you'll come visit and hardly believe it's the same place. And this will help," she adds, drumming her fingers on the basin and flashing him another smile. But he does persist in questioning and she ends up tucking that smile in. "I, well..." The hesitation only lasts a moment, then she's grinning big again and shrugging her thin shoulders. "Just time for a change." N'thei laughs quietly toward the sizzle of orange peels. "Now now, lovely. The only difference between here and there is a measure of drunkenness." Pinching off a segment of fruit, squishing it between his teeth, he watches the shrug and the grin from this distance with a contemplative look, brows raised at Persie. "Change? So much the better. The Reaches are prettier for your presence. Though things are different here than Fort." The last comment is made with a sudden gravity, something like warning and concern. Persie casts a playful eye at him. "More drunk there or less drunk there? You know, I don't know that I've seen you drunk. - Nope, I still don't believe you," she levies with a bright grin. "You know people are always saying that, how's it's so cold here. Why did I choose High Reaches when there are nice warm places to go. But those places are for visiting. I've never -lived- anywhere that didn't have seasons." Peel, peel, peel, until she's got a mess of rind and pith in her lap, which she them frowns at momentarily. She comes up with a solution, biting into the whole peeled orange and gathering up the rind-bits into her hands and getting up from the bed. It takes some scooting, handless as she is, but then she's up. Of course, the orange makes it impossible for her to say anything else, but she makes little mmph noises along the way. "On the contrary, I don't think you've ever seen me sober." N'thei is amused all the while at Persie's doings, his head tilted aside while he watches her maneuvering like one would attend a puppet show, what antics will they think of next? He shoves another segment into his back teeth once she's on her feet, and he talks around a mouthful of tart fleshiness; "Not different like that, like cold and snow, though damned if it's not that too. People are different here. Pleasant little girls are rare things, and not everyone will take kindly to cute and blithe." Well that just makes her frown around her awkward mouthful. She dumps her handfuls of rind into the fire and brushes her hands off on her pants before taking the orange from her teeth. "You don't think people will like me?" she asks, with innocent disappointment and a touch of brow-wrinkling confusion. I haven't met many people yet but..." Instead of eating her orange now, Persie just worries over it, picking off teeny white bits and flicking them one by one into the low fire. "Are you drunk now?" She slips a sidelong look at him, brow up. N'thei declines to answer under necessity of scratching the back of his neck with rindy fingers, least he'll smell fresh and citrusy at the day's end. "I worry that people will think you're making fun of them, or that you're simple, or... Or any number of ways a person could misconstrue your very endearing nature." He reaches one thick and sticky finger to tap the wrinkle in Persie's brow lightly, to lean down with a helpful smile in place. "I don't want you to worry, mind, just be braced for it when it comes." Oh but she does look worried, blinking up at him for the tap of his finger and the way he leans with his smile. "But, well... You don't miscon... I mean, I -am- simple." Persie catches her lip in her teeth again, distracted for a second as she tastes orange there, then smiling again. "I'll be okay," she attempts bravely. And less so, "Right?" "I don't, this is true. But because I am a fool for a girl with a pretty smile doesn't mean everyone will be, neh?" N'thei puts it in a tone fringed with apology, for his own shortcomings and those of the Weyr at large, and he shrugs to withdraw his hand and lean against the mantle. Another segment, this one paused before eaten; "I hope you will be more than okay, I hope you will be happy here." "Well," she inserts an uneasy laugh, "I hope I'll be happy too. I mean, that's..." But Persie just shrugs and grins. "You -are- different here. Or maybe I'm differnt and so you seem different." She pauses with an orange segment ready for her lips. "Are you happy here?" N'thei shrugs as well, an utterly different gesture when done by heavy shoulders than by skinny ones. "I'm not unhappy, not most of the time. Happiness comes in small doses." He pops an orange wedge in his mouth and smiles with it behind his teeth, illustrative of his point. "It's arresting to have you here though, lovely, like finding a daisy in a blizzard." The orange still doesn't make it to her mouth because she brings the back of her knuckles up to her brow instead, where she can hand a little beneath the curve of her hand and peek up at him. "You're so sweet to me," Persie tells him quietly, words mixed with appreciation and bewilderment. A giggle breaks from her lips and she narrows her lashes as she smiles. "Are you really drunk?" still disbelieving. where she can -hide-, not hand. N'thei juices the bite with his teeth, strains it all down his throat and winds up rolling the pulpy bit around in his mouth while Persie's doing the peeking. All with a smile that brightens to a chuckle at the end, when he says, "If I say no, you'll know I'm a liar. If I say yes, you'll know my clever secret of hiding my liquor. Which is worse, I wonder. --Where are you trying to locate that furniture, by the way?" The change of subject is coupled to a point toward the bed. "You're such a big tough guy, but you're so sweet," Persie laughs again, the orange finally making it to her mouth as she turns back to consider the bed. "Where do you think it should go? I mean..." Her hands spread to encompass the whole of the empty and plain weyr, meaning the bed could go anywhere. "Supposedly there's a... a settee? Do you know what that is, exactly? It's like a chair, right? Well, I guess there's one waiting for me in the stores. The girl, the one with the keys, she said she'd hold it for me. It's purple." And from her brilliant, beaming grin, it's obvious that fact is the one that sold Persie on the piece, as she if she'd actually seen it, she'd know what a settee is. N'thei hikes up a brow on that; "The pretty dark one or the little fair one? Amerie or Milani? Best hope Milani." He laughs to himself for a moment, then drops the last few sections of orange into his mouth and pushes away from the mantle with one hand, listed off toward the bed. "I know nothing of decorating, dearest, but point to where you want it, and there I'll place it." Bracing his hands on the frame, he simply awaits direction. "She wasn't dark," Persie says with certainty - that much she can remember. "Is Milani the fair one? That sounds like.. that could be her name. I only met her for a moment and she just... Well, she said a lot of stuff and I'm sure her name was in there." She pads after him, toward the bed, and stuff more orange in her mouth such that her words come out a bit garbled. "Why should I hope for her? What's the other one like?" But she moves on past him. "I think the bed should go over here, to the side. Right? And then the purple thing, assuming it really is something to sit on, can go over by the fire more. And that will give me space over there for a table." She seems to have a plan in mind, at least, tapping her lips as she envision the weyr as it will be someday. But when her gaze slips back to him, all ready to push, she catches a citrus-flavored finger between her teeth. Merry, N'thei answers, "Amerie is not like you, lovely, not like you." Say-no-more, he sets to the relocating of furniture, digs in with a shove until the bed is located over-here. Once located thusly, the edge of the bed is sat upon momentarily whilst he looks back at Persie with half of a grin. "Oh to be that finger for a moment. --I think a settee is more like a sofa than a chair, but I've been wrong before." Persie didn't realize there was a finger to be jealous of and so she looks down at it, making her a touch crossed for a moment as it's still caught in her teeth. And then it very carefully withdraws and she blinks up at him with her eyes all big. It lasts beat, her caught expression, and then she smiles once more. "See," and now the finger points at him. "That's the sort of thing you'd have said before Fort. The sort of thing you didn't say when... when you were there." With another self-conscious laugh she drops all of her attention to her orange for a moment - "A sofa, I could use a sofa" - then letting it sneak back to him slowly. N'thei pats the end of the bed next to him, comraderie rather than alluring, while his expression finds its way toward candid chagrin. "I was lost a bit there, and so I didn't treat you right. A man, probably a woman too, gets caught up in what people expect of him instead of who he is everything goes off-kilter, neh?" Persie doesn't refuse the invitation to her own bed. She slips over and sets down beside him, a bit more neatly than she normally moves. "Did I do that?" she wonders quietly, the backs of her fingers to her lips, still holding the uneven half of her orange. "Expect things of you?" She sounds remorseful already. "No. Not you." N'thei taps at the inside of Persie's wrist to remind her of the orange, a sticky mess waiting to happen if forgotten, and he shakes his head with honest gravity. "It's not all worth talking about now it's straightened out, but consider it a little apology. You don't deserve to be treated coldly, pretty, and I feel bad for doing it. Eat that before you juice your pillow." Persie turns her head over quickly, obediently. "I'm sorry you were unhappy there. I..." She cuts off and instead takes the remainder of her orange and splits it in two, handing one over to him. "But now we're both here. And you're happier here. And I'm going to be happy here." She gives a little nod, as if her certainty can make it all so. But then she can't help herself - she must bite into the section of orange and turn to him with it clutched between her teeth and across her broad smile. N'thei makes a face at her goof, showing his own teeth back at her without the benefit of an orange to make them look less leering. "I said eat, not play." He kicks his feet off the end of the bed a few times, knocks his heels against the frame, scrapes his toes across the floor in preparation to find purchase for them. "You'll be happy here, least till you're up to your nose in snow, then see if you don't cry Fort!" Persie rolls her eyes and sucks the orange in, crewing and watching while his boots dance around, then watching his face. "I like snow," she mumbles past her mouthful just before swallowing. "And Secath likes it. One of you will just have to come dig me out if I fall in a drift up to my nose." And she wrinkles that nose for good measure as she grins at him again. Laughing; "Best hope Secath's good for digging then, darling, or wait for the spring thaw." N'thei taps the end of the wrinkled nose with his forefinger, then scrapes to his feet with resolution in his posture. "Tell me when the sofa comes, won't you? Before you nearly break your ass trying to move it on your own." Another tap and her lips pull in, hiding her lips but not the curve of her smile. When he stands, though, her gaze drops down to her knees, head bowed a bit. "Yeah, okay," Persie tells him quietly. Then again she slowly lifts her gaze upward. "You always leave," she observes thoughtfully. "I mean, of course you leave but you always..." There's a long pause, curious and considering, but in the end the only comes back to the same thing. "You leave." N'thei pauses, head cocked to a curious angle, eyebrows lowered in thought. "Do I?" His hands find his pockets absently while he lingers there, leans toward the ledge but hasn't gone that way yet, neither has Wyaeth come to claim him. "There are really only two things a person can do, leave or stay, neh? And I don't stay here, so." "Well, right, but..." She's troubled now by her own ineloquence. "I mean you leave... suddenly, quickly. Soon." Persie goes to rub her hands on her trousers again only to find that her fingers stick to the fabric and she lifts them to her mouth, sucking the base of a finger where juice has collecting. "You know what I mean," she hazards around that digit. N'thei says with good spirits, "You kill me, darling, you really do." That with a nod toward her fingers, with a hard-pressed but determined shake of his head. Outside, Wyaeth lands with his usual thump and taps his talons against cold stone in an impatient staccato. "I have to leave sooner or later, so what's it matter if it's suddenly, quickly, soon? I only live right across the way there if you want for company." Persie jumps a little, sucking in a breath to realize that she's doing it again, whatever it is, really. "I'm sorry I..." she frowns. "I don't under-" a beat passes, "-stand." But she's rubbing her hands on her thighs again and pushing up from the bed. "That's a dumb reason," she tells him, unsatisfied with his logic, managing not to make a face and mostly by the virtue of turning her head away. In doing that she sees the pink basin and its happy fruit and, from the drop of her shoulders, feels immediately bad. "I'm sorry. You come here and you're so nice to me and then I just go and be all ungrateful. Thank you for coming and for..." She sighs, smiling more wistfully. "For being so nice." N'thei comes back over at once, to cup Persie's face in both his hands, to kiss the apples of her cheeks with honest affection-- providing she doesn't take it in mind to kick him in the crotch, as seems to be common these days. "You're welcome. Enjoy the oranges, enjoy the basin, welcome to High Reaches. I'm going home, before Wyaeth leaves without me." As seems likely, to judge the bored fidgeting going on outside. From his first step in her direction, Persie freezes, just a pale blond stick with huge eyes. But her face is his to handle, her own fingers lifting to curve tentatively around his wrist. Her eyes close for his kisses and stay that way until he speaks, lashes lifting to reveal an uncertain gaze. "Okay," is all she musters. Secath, meanwhile, is eyeing Wyaeth with an imperious lift to her chin, which also has benefit of putting her head 'just so'. The colors of her confetti mind flutter curiously at the bronze, but she doesn't give him any words. N'thei nods firmly down at the pretty face in hands, thumbs grazed down her cheeks affectionately, then his hands dropped back into his pockets. He pivots on his heels and strolls out like that, to catch Wyaeth in the middle of a dote upon Secath, a gritty rumble of approval for her prettiness and light. "You're a sorry bastard," he murmurs disapprovingly, like he's not as bad himself. They leave without further incident. |
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