Logs:Personal Affairs
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| RL Date: 31 October, 2015 |
| Who: Parli, Swaronth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Parli and Swaronth collect trees. |
| Where: Forested Area, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
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| Snow crunched under Parli's boots as she and Swaronth made their way, on foot, through the forest. "This is stupid. You don't need a door this badly. Your wallow isn't even in front of the opening and we're too high up for it to matter." « We should have done this before winter. » "We totally would have, if you didn't get it into your head to go chase every green that decided to go up." « I told you that we're never to discuss my personal affairs. » "Sure. Okay. Because me spending about an hour with a strange person every time you catch isn't my personal crap, too." He glowered at her, mentally and physically. She threw her hands in the air. "What. Seriously? You can't pretend that doesn't happen. It's not like I can go back to the weyr to work on something while you're banging happily away on whatever green you caught." « There's no reason to be crude. » Parli raised an eyebrow. « We make love. Harpers would weep to write ballads of such love-making. Their instruments would catch on fire and their throats would rupture for the glory of it. » "Jays. That's so gross." « Besides. We must sleep with the enemy to know them. » "They aren't the enemy." « Yet. » "Have you completely lost your mind?" Swaronth pushed a forepaw against a tree and sniffed it. His eyes narrowed, in as much as dragon eyes could - which is to say not at all, but the mental sense of it was one that Parli was familiar with. « Put the rig on. We'll take this one. » He turned slightly and nodded at another. « And that one. » "... you do realize that we're going to have to dry the wood out. You aren't even going to have this door until late spring at this rate. I told you we should have just gone to the Woodcraft and picked up some planks there." Swaronth fixed his gaze on her with a low, singular chuckle. « I've already taken the liberty of asking one of our former wingmates to retrieve the old door in the meantime. » "... oh jays no." « We'll mount that one for now. » "It won't fit," she hoped. « We'll need to cut it to size, but it will fit just fine. » "Then why... why are we even doing this? This is stupid." « Because, that's why. » He grunted and Parli, grudgingly, mounted up to attach the tree-felling rig to Swaronth's straps. Next up were her pitons and her tree-climbing gear. He reared up and she caught onto the tree, only to climb the last little bit up to connect the rig. "You're kind of a jerk, you know that?" « I'm also more of a man than you are. » "But- what. How does that make any sense. That's not even relevant to anything ever. You picked me, anyway, so what does that say about your manliness." Parli couldn't even muster the energy to question him properly. « You know full well that I have a weakness for pretty women and breakfast foods. » "You like porcines and wherries. That doesn't count as 'breakfast food'. Also, you have the worst taste in women. I've seen the greens you caught." « And I picked you. » "Like I said - the worst taste in women." Swaronth grunted again. « Is it on? » "Yeah. Sure. Let me get down." The rigging was simple enough - rather than cut the tree down, Swaronth could just uproot and pull it down. Two hours later and they had a fine pair of trees to strap together - and take away, to a small, secret place in the South where she could turn it into planks and let it dry. Eventually. |
Comments
Faryn (11:43, 31 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
These two are my favorites. Keep it coming vig slave.
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