Logs:Reunited
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| RL Date: 16 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Lycinea meet again. Drex interrupts. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
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| It was late, if not too late, by the time Lycinea was leaving Irianke's weyr. She might have headed to the resident quarters to get some rest before facing the friend she abandoned without the letters that were promised, but perhaps the proximity of what is known to be Roszadyth and Farideh's abode was too much guilt to be borne, even overnight. It's to the ledge and tentatively in through the tunnel that she goes, calling softly, "Farideh?" as she comes, not wanting to interrupt. By all appearances, with the low-burning fire in the hearth and the lack of sound, or assistants, it is indeed too late, but once her name is spoken, Farideh's head pokes from the bedroom and her body follows, letting the curtain that sections that doorway off from the outer weyr fall back into place. "Lya?" is the goldrider's response, disbelieving. She moves slowly towards the blonde, frowning, clearly confused, but otherwise still dressed in her normal day fare and not any type of nighttime wear. The way Lya stops at the appearance of the weyrwoman is shy. One hand rises to self-consciously run across the braids in her hair with their small shell and bead adornments. "Hi," is almost awkward as she takes some steps toward the goldrider, stopping short. "I'm sorry I didn't write. I wanted to, but I never found the words." If wants and wishes were marks, Lya might be rich by now. The other girl's progress might slow, but Farideh keeps moving until she can get her arms around Lycinea and pull her in for a light embrace. "Don't worry about it, Lya. Everything's fine." A pause in chatter, as she pulls back, to look at the blonde's face. "Are you well?" She looks genuinely concerned as she searches the familiar face so near to her own, hands still holding on lightly to her upper arms. The returned embrace is less light than it is strong. It's not lingering though. "Yeah," and there's a nod to reinforce the word, "I am. I really am," as if saying it twice would be more reassuring. "Just glad to be home. Tired some, from the road, but I knew I wouldn't sleep if I didn't at least try to see you. Are you well?" The question is returned with a similarly searching look. "I had hoped-- no, you'll have to tell me about all your travels once you're acclimated back. Don't skimp on any of the details. I've been stuck here for a month now and I'm dying to hear something-- different." Farideh's mouth finally curves into a gentle smile, and her expression is overall affectionate. "I'm fine. We're all fine. There's been some big changes, as usual, but everything usually comes back to balanced." "I'll tell you," the last word comes with a touch of emphasis, enough to perhaps spark the notion that Lya's not about to be telling just anyone stories from her time on the road with Irianke's family. There's a smile from the blonde in answer to Farideh's and she's reaching for the brunette to hug her again, but briefly. "Good. I'm glad. It took time for the word about Niahvth's flight to get to where I was and then for me to get from there to somewhere with a watchdragon that could get me a ride back here. I wasn't even sick," that much is said with a touch of humor and even a little pride. "Well, I was nauseous, but not-- anyway," who wants to talk about nausea and sickness? Not Lya. "I should go. Starting back with Irianke tomorrow. But... we'll talk soon? I mean, as soon as I'm settled and you're free," the crook of a smile says Lya might be imagining how far into the future that might mean. "But I'll be around, if you need me in the meantime." As a friend, not an assistant, she probably means. "Do you have to go?" Farideh looks glum for all of five seconds, before her gaze gradually lifts from Lycinea to the entryway, her brow furrowed. It's far too late for any respectable weyrfolk to be dragging themselves home drunk from the Snowasis. Yet, technically Drex is neither, and so that's probably why the sounds of him cursing (something about a smelly fish's anus?) and knocking about outside soon pervade. When he finally makes it into the weyr proper, he blinks a little, trying to focus, mumbling something more (dollfin's dirty knickers?) and stumbles off towards the bedroom with nary another word. Dirty pirates, what can you do? Color floods Farideh cheeks as she watches Drex stumble through the weyr, but she is silent throughout until he's moved past them to the bedroom. "I'm-- sorry. I should-- we'll talk. Soon," she reiterates, and turns around, hurrying after the drunken sailor. |
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