Logs:Queen B
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| RL Date: 9 October, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A blonde teenage girl and a brunette teenage girl do not, this time, see eye to eye. There's no bloodshed though. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Korek/Mentions, Teoma/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. Silly teenage girls. |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Judging from the fact that Lycinea is wearing an apron, over a set of work clothes that actually go together in soft warm brown tones, and her sleeves are rolled up, she almost certainly is supposed to be working. That doesn't stop her, however, from plopping down next to Farideh. "Ugh." A promising beginning. Her eyes fall to the other girl's task. "What're you doing?" Weaving, twining, braiding - on it goes. It's the jolting of the seat that removes Farideh's focus. She's got a frown and a glare for whoever is bothering her during such an important task, but when she sees it's Lycinea, her frown breaks into a sunny smile. "What's ugh? This weather? It's dreadful. Whoever said building a Weyr in a place was a good idea." She looks from the kitchen aide to her threads, shrugging with a self-conscious laugh. "Hair band, or you could use it to add something special to your hair." Head tilted, she returns her smile to her friend. "The weather, the work," Lya waves a hand to encompass it all. She wrinkles her nose a moment for good measure, and then lets her expression smooth. "The weather isn't unusual though. It was probably hotter where you're from?" She sounds uncertain. The kitchen aide's eyes fall to the work again, "Oh," comes thoughtfully, then, "It's pretty," though this is uncertain, though not because it isn't pretty. It's probably not good manners, but it doesn't stop her from asking lowly, "Fari, do you sleep with a lot of men?" The question has been weighing on her a while, maybe she'll seem less weird now that it's out in the open. "Days are hot, dry, sandy and nights can be cold, but," here Farideh purses her lips as she thinks, "I hardly ever went outside.. at night." What an absurd thought. She laughs at the blonde's uncertainty and resumes weaving the threads, without looking up. "I plan on using it to hold my hair up while I work. A plain leather band is.. plain." There can be no other reason, of course. Just as suddenly her smile fades and she's grabbing Lycinea's hand, eyes darting around as she speaks in a loud whisper. "Shush, you silly hen!" But, that doesn't stop her mischievous grin from returning. "What is a lot to you?" The nod for the hair band is ignorant but feigns understanding. Biting her lower lip, Lya looks up at Farideh through her lashes as if that should help hide her blush. "One?" is a lot. Maybe? She's not sure. "How long have you lived here? Aren't Weyr women supposed to be more tolerant?" Add a disappointed look, but not hurt. "If it makes you feel better, I've only slept with one person since coming here." There, better, right? No mention of any sexual encounters prior to moving to the Reaches. Farideh queries, "Why? Are you thinking of sleeping with a lot of men?" "Since I was six-" is out of Lycinea's mouth before she realizes the question is largely rhetorical. "Oh, I'm not--" Her blush is deeper now. "I wasn't saying sleeping with a lot of men is bad thing, only, it's that--" She looks wide-eyed at her dark-haired friend, "You're not much older than I am and---" The truth comes out in a whine, "Did you have to sleep with H'vier of all people? He's soooo old." Making assumptions is never a good thing, so Farideh simply sits by as she waits for Lycinea to finish. Lycinea's real reason for bringing up sex - wait for it.. H'vier - earns her a sardonic look, thin brows lifted. "Is he? That old. Besides, he's not bad to look at." Her lips pucker in distaste, her arms coming to cross defensively across her chest. "Does it matter if it's him? It could be anyone. He's just a guy. It's not like he's my boyfriend. That would be gross." Lycinea sighs as if this were all about her. "It's just my luck really. I finally start making some friends and two of them fuck." She folds her arms on the table and buries her face in them in a sudden bout of teen melodrama. "If you guys start fighting, I'm not picking sides. Especially if you do start dating even though he's almost old enough to be your dad." This all comes a little muffled since she doesn't lift her head. One hand of the laundress' comes to lay on Lycinea's shoulder and pats soothingly. "It's not like we're having sex in front of you." Ever pragmatic, Farideh. "And I'm worried that H'vier is your idea of a friend. It's not like he's a conversationalist. Or fashion savvy. Or even nice. Not even remotely approachable." She's still patting the blonde on the back, almost mindless of her own actions as she speaks. "My dad has gray hair. He is much older than H'vier. And we will never ever in a hundred years date. He's not my type, don't worry." Her cheery smile is back, as she removes her hand and picks up her woven threads, which she starts typing off with a simple knot. It probably says something about the savvy Lycinea is capable of that she doesn't tell Fari what H'vier's friendship is good for. She just groans. "Fiiiine, but remember what I said. If you two ever get into it, I'm not taking sides." Now she raises her head so she can give Farideh a most serious look. Then comes the topic change, "I got off for turnover. What are you going as?" That the laundress is going apparently isn't a question. "You should," she points out as she tries to loop the little threads into each other, "take my side. Women should stick together." Boys, ew, gross, cooties. That sort of thing. Farideh finishes tying the knot and sits back to survey her work, apparently satisfied with what she's done. "Go? To that ridiculous excuse for a masquerade? No thank you." She's got on her haughty face, despite being dressed in someone's old castoffs with a patchwork blanket spread over her legs. "Besides, I hate the cold. I was going to see if Giorda would let me off to go to Fort for turnover, but I heard Fort isn't holding any parties." Huge, drawn out sigh follows. "I'll just have to stay in the caverns and read or something." "Oh," Lycinea now has twice the reason to look a little ashamed, even if there's no chance she's either going to A. automatically take Farideh's side because they share the same type of genitalia, or B. not go to the party she's so excited for that Fari thinks is stupid. She reaches to bite her nails for a moment before awkwardly explaining, "I've never had off for a party before." Then, "Couldn't you go home for turnover? Do they do anything special where you're from?" Lycinea's source of excitement is definitely Farideh's source of irritation. She even rolls her eyes as she tests the flexibility of her new hair band. "That's a terrible shame. You should enjoy yourself on turnover." Notice she doesn't say "enjoy the masquerade", no. She combs her fingers through her hair and uses her new tie to get it all up on top of her head in a topknot. "We have the best turnover party. They string up glows everywhere and bring in the night jasmine from outside. There's harpers and dancing and enough food to eat until you burst. Wine, pastries, and kissing." Yes, Lycinea, kissing! But from there, her smile falters and she heaves another long sigh, with a side eye for the blonde. "I can't go back. They don't know I'm here and they would try to keep me there, and then I'd be stuck marrying someone twice H'vier's age!" Which is super old. "Well, I'm going to. I got a dress and a mask and some make-up." Yep. So there's the part where Lycinea isn't changing her plans for Farideh no matter how irritated the brunette gets. But Farideh's story gets a frown, especially the part about 'twice H'vier's age.' "Are you sure someone twice H'vier's age wouldn't definitely be dead?" The blonde seems to be contemplating the reality of this possibility. "I bet even if you stay inside here that you could find someone for kissing. And wine. And pastries. If you wanted." But Lya isn't offering to stay in with her. "Maybe you could go home but take a rider with you? Someone you trust so you could make sure you'd be able to leave? Or-- you could see your sister? Or would she try to keep you too?" "Make up? Why does it matter if you're going to be wearing a mask?" Farideh tucks the corners of her blanket around her legs and yawns, leaning one elbow on the table now that her hands aren't occupied. "Are you trying to impress someone?" Her eyebrows lift suggestively. "They could be, it's awfully old, but it seems the old, ugly ones far outlive the less ugly ones." She leans her cheek against her fist of the arm on the table, turning so she can more properly face Lycinea and address their conversation. "No, that's a horrible idea. They would lock me away forever. My sister wouldn't be of any help. She thinks I should just get it over with." She frowns, pensive for a couple of seconds, before she shoots the kitchen aide a contemplative look. "Don't tell anyone about that." "Who would I tell?" Lya shoots right back to Farideh with a roll of her eyes, "H'vier? Because, you know, he's such a conversationalist." The sarcasm is heavy with this one. The blonde shifts a little to face the brunette a little more. "Can't I just look pretty for myself? I've never really dressed up nice before. And done the whole-- girl thing, you know? And my lips won't be behind the mask and you can still see my eyes. It's just a little lip gunk-" that's a technical term, "-and kohl for my eyes." She reaches out a hand to try to touch the newly formed band in Farideh's hair, out of idle curiosity, it seems; she's probably never had anything fancier than a leather tie. "I bet you could find a rider going somewhere else for turnover to give you a ride. There has to be something going on somewhere you'd be interested in." The head tilt becomes less casual, cockier, the lips twitching with not-quite amusement at Lycinea's sarcasm. "You don't have to be a bitch about it, Lya," Farideh says smoothly, and not missing a beat, she smooths the untamable wisps of hair framing her round face, "You're wasting your time." She's going to go there and rain on the other girl's parade, then hops from cattiness to less strained emotions. "No one would be able to appreciate it and then the gunk never comes off and your eyes will itch and are you going to suck in your stomach all night?" After pointing out all the bad things, she lets out a breath and waves her hands in a dismissive way. "I was looking forward to the vineyards at Fort Hold, but nooo. I even had a date." There, she drops that bomb, and slumps to the side, her head lolling on her fist. Teenage inelegance. "I'm not being--!" Lya makes the bitchface at Farideh for the very suggestion. "But you are just a spoilsport, Fari." She sticks out her tongue in the most mature way. "And I don't need to suck in my stomach, thanks much." She blinks, quite guilelessly, "Are you going to be sucking in your stomach on your date?" The cancelled one? "You are, and I've got better things to do than sit here and be mocked by you." Farideh makes good on that statement, standing up and grabbing her things - which are few, just extra threads and her blanket. "Enjoy your masquerade," she says with marked sarcasm, just before she.. walks away, her head held high like she owns the place. |
Comments
H'vier (21:02, 9 October 2014 (EDT)) said...
Girls, girls. You're both pretty.
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