Logs:Regret
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| RL Date: 1 October, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Aisari |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aisari finally meets Farideh. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 12, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Faryn/Mentions |
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| Though the night is deep and the air is cold at High Reaches Weyr, there's light and warmth in the junior weyrwoman's weyr, and only the crackle of the flames eating through wood interrupts the noiselessness. It might be surprising that the goldrider is there, waiting, in the antechamber, sitting in the chair facing the entryway, fingers drumming soundlessly on one cushioned arm. She looks regal; she looks bored. It's been a thrilling not to mention overwhelming night, and being dropped off outside Farideh's weyr does not exactly do anything to diminish either of those things. Aisari is shivering as, on uncertain feet, she steps into the antechamber. Those pale eyes widen as she catches sight of Farideh, her stance immediate dropping into an uneasy curtsey. "I--" she begins, and then falters. The fingers, moments before tapping idly, cease their movements when the girl enters, and a certain wariness takes over Farideh's features when she curtsies. Even she hesitates; something in that gesture giving her pause. "Aisari?" she asks, pushing herself up from the chair. "I hope it wasn't an overtly taxing trip here." She's still wearing her cautiousness on her face as she walks across the room towards the other, younger girl, her fingers knitting together. "I'd never actually ridden a dragon before," admits Aisari with a certain amount of hushed reverence. Never ridden a dragon, and here she is, in a goldrider's weyr! "You're-- you're Farideh. You're as beautiful as they say you are, and you saved me. I'll do whatever you need me to." Her hands clasp together in front of her, the small sack of belongings over her shoulder drooping uneasily. "No? Was it what you thought it would be?" As she walks, Farideh is studying the blonde, from toes to the top of her head, and doesn't appear to be hiding it either. "I'm Farideh," she confirms, with the barest of smiles for the compliment. "Thank you-- Aisari? Do you think they'll come looking for you?" Coming to a stopping point, a couple feet shy of the holder, she shifts her scrutiny to the girl's face, searching while she listens. The scrutiny is clearly unnerving, but then again, what hasn't been unnerving this evening? Aisari stays still, stoic and sure, though her eyes follow Farideh's progress with uneasy hesitation. Perhaps she's worried she won't pass muster; perhaps she's worried she'll be sent back, an immigrant turned away at Ellis Island. "It was amazing," she declares, clasping those hands to her chest. And, "I don't know. My father will-- he'll be angry." Now, her gaze drops towards her feet. "But no one will know that I'm here. I'll be safe. I'll work. I'll Stand for your eggs, if you'll let me. You need candidates, don't you?" Aisari doesn't get thrown out, yet! "If anyone asks, where will you say you're from? How did you get here? What is your name?" All relevant questions, it would seem, repeated in patient, gentle tones, that are nevertheless insistent. "No one knows that you're here now," Farideh sighs, staring at the other girl sadly. "We do and you may, but you might think about--" One hand reaches out, gesturing to the other girl's blonde hair. "Cutting your hair." Then, there's a brief pause, and she gives the other girl a smile. "We are putting a lot on the line to help you. We'll do what we must to-- not get caught. Do you understand what I'm saying, Aisari?" It's plain, from Aisari's questions, that she hasn't thought of any of these things. One hand lifts uneasily to her hair, the other still clutched close to her chest. "I-- I do. I don't want you to get in trouble. I don't. I'll do whatever you need me to, even cut my hair. Even... Should I be Sara? Or should it be completely different? I've never been anywhere but Tillek, I don't know..." There's the hint of tears, now, within those pale blue eyes. Help her Farideh; you're her only hope! "Would Sara be a name you could respond to easily? You could be Aisa, or Risa, or-- anything similar enough. It would be mighty fishy if you never answered to your name," Farideh replies, not without some amusement coloring her voice. Her arms cross loosely over her torso as her chin comes down in a resounding nod. "It will do, for now. Do you have any skills? You'll have to come with some kind of story. For the now and for the if." "Risa," repeats Aisari, picking up on that name without a beat. "I like that. I'll be Risa. It's the same but different, isn't it?" Her fingers continue to touch her hair, that long, likely never-cut mane that she plainly cares a great deal about. Still-- she has her priorities. "I can cook and clean and launder and... oh, everything. I've been keeping house for my father since my mother died. I don't know what he'll do without me." It casts a shadow across her expression, but only for a moment. It's not her story to tell, but somehow the goldrider looks mollified as she listens to the girl talk and accept her now-coming-true future. "Risa," Farideh says the new girl's name like it's always been her name. "I think it would be wise to consider taking you on as an assistant, for now. I have one, but she's not as keen on all of the more domestic skills. That way, it would make it hard to anyone to bother you overmuch. Perhaps we can say you're a friend of a cousin, who came highly recommended." Her father? Well, that's not Farideh's concern. "I suppose it's a good thing my father was strict about my upbringing," says the newly-named Risa, after a moment's pause. "Else I might speak like the fisherfolk." It's true: her accent does not immediately brand her as Tillekian, though there is the occasional drawled cadence all the same. "I'll be the best assistant I possibly can be!" she promises, faithfully. "And I'll cut my hair, and I'll-- I'll change everything, just to make sure. The friend of your cousin." For a moment, it looks like she might spring forward to hug the goldrider, but she restrains herself. "All your things will shine, I promise." "That does help," Farideh responds, contemplatively. "You won't have to work too hard. Faryn will be able to help you, and I'm not a completely unscrupulous boss." Her mouth stretches into another smile, her posture relaxing some. "Welcome to High Reaches, Risa. No doubt you'll fit in just fine. I'll speak to Jounine about getting you set up-- and you'll want to find Faryn to get a rundown of how our schedules flows, but otherwise-- go have a tour. Enjoy what time you have left before--" Before she turns into someone else. And the carriage into a pumpkin. Risa's nod is earnest and eager; she is, without question, eager to please, eager to be useful, just eager. "I will," she promises. "'"Thank you, weyrwoman. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Perhaps the thanks will settle down. But... perhaps not. For now, at least she can follow direction, turning to head from the antechamber and find-- thankfully-- her way to the caverns. Someone will show her the way. The girl's eagerness doesn't transfer as easily, and Farideh is left staring after Risa with growing trepidation. "Shit," the goldrider says, under her breath. It's slow moving, but she does eventually walk to the couch and sit down, her head falling in her hands. Regret is heavy on her mind, and shoulders, the rest of the night. |
Comments
Faryn (18:45, 1 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
Don't mind me, I'll be in this shadowed corner eyeing Risa. Supiciously. Or not. That's just what my face does.
Farideh, what have you done?
Edyis (21:35, 1 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
I'm not sure I can approve of this.
And yet at the same time I'm proud.
Damn you conflicting emotions!
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