Logs:Real Talk
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| RL Date: 20 September, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, X'vin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Surely X'vin's the person anyone should go to for advice when they're going to have a baby. |
| Where: Seedy Tavern, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day 10, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions |
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| A not-so-chance encounter at the Weyr quickly lead to a trip outside of the Weyr. The place they end up in is loosely called a tavern. More accurately, probably waystation applies, catering to the transient traffic traveling between Hold and Weyr. Drex, in his less-than-finery, likely fits in with the local clientele, heading immediately for the bar. "Pitcher of beer," he's already ordering, before he looks at X'vin like, what about you? X'vin does not fit in with the local clientele. His jacket alone could pay for a family of three in the Hold, which is by all estimations Unjust, but that's not his problem. The Fortian wingleader's content to follow Drex's lead to their destination once it's offered up, even if someone as clean-cut as he maybe doesn't belong. "I don't suppose there's wine," he says with a wry smile. He flicks his hand dismissively. "Just a pint, for me." Not a pitcher. Someone isn't an alcoholic. If Drex is aware of the unfairness (or that it's even a thing) of X'vin's finery, he certainly doesn't draw attention to it. He doesn't even seem aware of the sidelong looks they get from some of the others. He snorts at X'vin's suggestion of wine, and instead amends, "Two glasses. Guess I'll share," he says, a little begrudgingly. "Get a table?" "So kind," X'vin says, and for his kindness Drex will find an offering of a half-mark piece at his elbow when X'vin turns around to claim a place. It gives him a chance to survey the room, even if his expression is neutral for the state of it all. Any place that doesn't have wine can't be trusted, but at least there's a table, and one that lets him keep an eye on the door to boot, so he takes it. The sailor snatches up that half-mark so quickly it might never have been there, flipping it towards the bartender as if he were the generous soul. Drex seems oblivious to the deliberate pick of table; this place, and places like it, are probably more home to him than any place in the Weyr itself. He's carrying over pitcher and glasses, settling down with his back to the door, pouring, and taking a deep drought of the beer first before uttering, "Y'heard about Fari yet?" "This'll be good," should serve as just enough answer to that question, and X'vin lifts his glass to look at it closely before super casually running it under his nose, like it might be something not beer. Eventually he takes a much smaller drink, but waits. Drex takes another deep drought of the beer, because it seems like the occasion calls for a bit of bracing alcohol, quite apart from X'vin's expectant demeanor. "Gonna be a father. For... real." As opposed to the fake, presumably. He's glancing over his glass at X'vin, posture tense. "Aint any idea what the fuck that even means." "Mmmnh," X'vin sounds around his next swallow, and that's enough for him to just set his glass down, since it's a choking hazard. "For real," he echoes, and the story is there but he doesn't try to fish it out just yet. Rather, "Sure it's yours?" And then, not even remotely helpful, "It means...I'm going to get you a picture book from the Healer Hall. It's not so complicated as all that. As easy to understand as putting a table together." "First thing I asked," Drex admits, somewhat mollified it's the first thing X'vin asks too. "She about bit my head off. She seemed sure." He nudges his glass, drawing fingers through the condensation left on the table. "No, I mean--" he makes a face. "Aint even sure how to be a dad, y'know? Aint like I ever had one to know what to do." X'vin's smile is quick and easy, and yes, maybe a little relieved on top. "Good," is first. "It's not an unfair question, a woman has a flight and then winds up pregnant. If she - or you - don't want it, she can just take a quick pop between. She doesn't even have to leave the weyr, it can be like when she was learning to do it in the first place." His examination of Drex, though, is measured, head slightly tilted. "I don't know if anyone knows how. You just have to do it." His smile tugs, sympathetically, into place. "What happened to yours?" Clearly, the thought of not having it never occurred to Drex, given he's frowning now. There's only one solution for that: more beer! He drains his glass, and refills from the pitcher, slouching back down after. "Dunno," is his less-than-helpful, if honest, answer to the last. "You had a kid before?" "Not that I know of," is equally unhelpful. X'vin's at least not going to be cutting into Drex's pitcher too much, with how thoughtfully he's drinking. "Probably. Maybe. It happens." What's important is, "Nobody's chasing me down to take care of them. Their mothers manage, or they put them in the nursery. Everyone's happy. Can't have a kid on a boat anyways, can you?" Drex grunts, in a what good are you kind of fashion, to judge by his scowl. He doesn't seem particularly worried about the pitcher, not given the distraction of the topic at hand. "Not when he's a baby. But when he's older, ought to learn. Not be bound to the land." He clearly hasn't talked this thought over with Farideh yet. After another helpfully bolstering gulp of beer, before his gaze flickers up to the bronzerider: "You've... known her, a while. What do you think she'll want to do?" "You think," X'vin ventures slowly, "she's going to let you take her kid. On a boat? I would love to be a vtol on the wall for that one." Isn't he helpful? Isn't this heartening? At least when he shrugs this time it's not dismissive, but thoughtful, wrapping his hand aroun the glass and tapping a finger against it while he considers. "Women usually want to keep them." That's good! "Except, most weyrwoman can't manage them. They can't raise them, that's for sure. If she has sense, she'll --" but he realizes, halfway through that it's a bit harsh, where he's going, so he ends instead, "talk to you about it. You'll do it together, whatever it is." "Of course she will. It's a ship, not a boat," duh. Clearly this makes all the difference to Drex, and he clearly this this will make the difference to Farideh, too. Even as oblivious as he is, he can't help but notice the unfinished sentence, frowning. "She'll... what?" A beat, "Aint ever found my girl to make much sense," he adds, with a kind of fond exasperation. "But she might surprise me. It's just... awkward right now. We don't really know what to say to each other." X'vin laughs, "Sorry. A ship. She's alright with you, on a ship then? No problems? Just, spring comes, you sail off and she sits home knitting and patient for you?" He seems especially dubious. "She'll get rid of it," he says bluntly. "But then again, she's just a junior. Maybe she'll have more time to do it. But you're right, she's not logical." The last will wait, with just a little snort to dismiss it. "Do you want it?" "Aint all right with it. Neither of us are, really," Drex admits, shifting and grimacing at the same time. "But she can't ask me to give it up, any more than I can ask her to give up that dragon." He starts to lift his glass halfway to his lips, then stops, shaking his head. "I don't think... she won't do that," he seems pretty certain of that. The last question definitely requires more alcohol, first. "I dunno," he admits, honestly. "I can't... think that I'd be a very good father. But if it's what Fari wants..." X'vin's eyebrow raises incredulously, and he finally finishes his beer to fill it halfway again. "A dragon's not a ship." It's plain and direct, doesn't leave much room for argument. "Neither is a baby. Sounds like you both have too many commitments between you." He swirls the contents of his own glass, maybe imagining wine. "It isn't just what she wants. Well - it is you can't make her do anything, but you'd better know if you want a father at all before you can decide to be a good one." Drex's, "Of course it's not," is agreement, even if it's agreement from likely a very different emphasis. He gives X'vin a heavy look -- in between the bronzerider swirling beer of all things, and the unhelpfully sage advice, it's not a best-friends-forever look by far. He's silent while he gulps down a couple more mouthfuls, lets out an impressive burp, and slumps back. "What was she like... before?" If X'vin realizes Drex missed the point, he doesn't show it. He opens his mouth to say something in response to the look, but he thinks the better of it - and of swirling his beer, too. Just another mouthful, one he holds before swallowing and saying, "Young. Playful. Brazen." At least he keeps that smile from becoming lascivious at any memories. "She was stupid. Completely naive. I think she was a bored, rich hold girl who wanted an adventure like the harper's tales." "Aint all that much changed," is Drex's opinion, at least with a chortling chuckle and a tip of his glass in mute toast. "Can't understand why she'd pretend to be a laundress if she wanted adventure. Don't make sense. She could've pretended to be someone rich and fancy." Or, not so much pretend as be herself. X'vin laughs again, shaking his head. "Maybe she just wanted to play normal," the bronzerider ventures, though the wrinkling of his nose says he doesn't understand. "I wouldn't have. Didn't," in fact. "She wasn't trying to be Farideh of Big Bay Hold, though. She was just trying to be nobody. She never did tell me why. Did you ever ask her?" Drex clearly doesn't comprehend the concept of playing normal to judge by the quick, dismissive shake of his head. "Aint told her I know yet," he admits, with a grimace. "Too much other... shit to work through already, y'know? Figured, eventually, she ought to tell me herself." It's probably a good thing he's not holding his breath or anything, though. "Your baby would be half-Blood," muses X'vin with no small amount of amusement. "She should tell you, yeah, but..." But. "Doesn't matter, anyways. She doesn't have claim to anything anymore. Just Roszadyth and maybe, one day, the senior knot at High Reaches. If she's lucky. Unlucky?" And that reminder makes the sailor scowl. "Aint Blood anymore, if it's a dragonrider's get, right? Said so yourself." Clearly, Drex hasn't thought as far as Farideh, Senior Weyrwoman of High Reaches, because it prompts another refill of his glass, splashing some of it over the edge. "Don't want to talk about that. Just..." he makes a noise, then: "Tell me a bit about how it all works. You know," he waves his hand, unhelpfully vague. It's not a great start to the conversation, but there'll be plenty more questions, about why fucking a gold gets you in charge, and other non-weyrbred questions. "Ain't Blood," X'vin echoes with a smug little smile for his own mimicry, but he's obliging for the rest, as he once promised to be. "It's not terribly clever, but tradition..." he starts, and if the night progresses to him explaining what may not be the best viewpoint for a boy trying to learn the ways of the weyr. If they progress to him explaining why things may need to change, why it's important to adapt, then certainly the foolishness of it all supports his claims. |
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