Logs:Sea Monster
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 1 August, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Riorde |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During the gather, Devaki and Riorde are both drawn to the beach, drink lots of ale, and talk about Turndays and standing. |
| Where: Cove, High Reaches Hold |
| When: Day 11, Month 5, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions |
  |
| Riorde has a knack for slipping away from people she doesn't want to be around. This is what finds her escortless, scrambling down from the lighthouse, feet slipping in her haste but balance perfect, skidding down at a pace that other people might find breakneck--other people who didn't grow up limited to rocky coastline and little else. Heedless of whoever else is about as long as they don't get in her way, she lets out a whoop about halfway down, before she hits the beach. Devaki's escort, meanwhile? Is no where to be seen. He didn't even have to try and slip his escort -- the greenrider got bored, since this particular islander doesn't seem too inclined to hang out in the thick of the gather. But he /seems/ harmless enough. Unsurprisingly he's spent a lot of time up at the Hold proper, talking to various people -- but the sound and scent of the sea draws him inevitably back down to the cove. Barefoot, he's seated on the sand, legs crossed underneath him -- the sound of a whoop turning his head, and a smile twitching his lips as he spots the familiar figure. "Ri," he calls, lifting a hand to draw her attention in his direction. Glee. There's no other word for it -- glee, pure and simple, as Riorde momentarily finds herself propelled into a younger self -- but no, that's not it either, for her delight now is a product of nostalgia. With her wide, silly smile, she waves wildly at Devaki when he gains her attention, uninhibited. "Fancy seeing you down here," she teases while still at a distance, pausing first to tug off her boots so she can walk across like one should on a beach, barefoot. Devaki has his boots resting on the sand beside him, and, oddly -- a pair of obviously feminine shoes, too -- as well as a flagon of ale. Apparently he's forgone politeness since he's alone, given there's no glasses to speak of. "Hard to resist the call of the sea. And who knows when they'll let us out next time. It could be months before we see it again." He's studying Riorde sidelong as he speaks, and her unadulterated glee is infectious, prompting a genuine grin from the other islander. "You look like you've been enjoying the gather," he observes. Without ado and without invitation, Riorde flops down next to Devaki and rather imperiously holds out her hand for the flagon, clearly expecting him to share. "Yeah well, like you said, call of the sea. It all seems a bit--much. I'll have more of a look tomorrow, but for now--" With her other hand, she gestures expansively out at their surroundings. Her exuberance settling into contentment, Riorde nods towards the shoes. "New style? Making purchases?" There's barely a hesitation before Devaki passes the flagon of ale over, chuckling under his breath. "Had enough?" he guesses. "I've never seen so many people in all my life. Even at the Weyr. It's--" he pauses, trying to come up with a suitable description. "--like a fish feeding frenzy after Thread fell. Remember that? You could practically run out there and scoop them up in your hands." He shudders briefly at the memory. His gaze flickers towards the shoes, and he lets out a low laugh. "No, just-- minding them, for now." "Yeah," Riorde admits. Her expression falters with Devaki's simile but doesn't recover after a quick grimace. "Everyone's up there in their dresses and everything, and I didn't even think of it -- well, no, people were talking about it but I didn't pay any attention. But now I might as well have a big E for Exile stuck on my forehead." The islander, who's attired in an everyday outfit, clean and put together but nothing special, makes another face before drinking Devaki's ale. After a swallow or two, she offers the flagon back and goes back to the shoes. "Who'd forget shoes like that?" she asks, aiming for a casual quip. The alternative: jealously prying. "They look nice." "You're not the only one that feels out of place. Although I saw Rhaelyn looking very much the part earlier," Devaki says, with a wry sort of expression. He's made somewhat of an attempt to dress up -- in that he's wearing a more fancy tunic than normal, but it's worn in places, so is obviously a hand-me-down. He seems grateful to take the flagon back, and takes a gulp before resting it on the sand next to him. "A Lady who has enough marks not to care if she loses a pair of shoes," he replies after a beat, chuckling under his breath so that it might seem at first like he's being facetious, though Riorde knows him well enough to know otherwise. His gaze is drawn towards the shoes mostly because she's staring at them, and he shrugs. "I'll return them to her if I see her tomorrow." He catches that note of jealous, and there's the slightest grin, sidelong, as he says, "Taikrin's been asking about the gather about you. Pestering all the exiles about your whereabouts, so I hear." "Yeah, I saw her too." A sour note enters Riorde's voice. She leaves off studying the shoes, glancing at Devaki with a quirked smile mirrored in the lift of her eyebrows. "Look at you, hobnobbing with Ladies and making off with their shoes." She manages the tease better the second time. Her gaze sharpens thereafter, mingled surprise and gratification and embarrassment; she looks away quickly, out at the water. "Oh?" Riorde tries--and fails--to sound largely blase, indifferent. "I'm sure you're exaggerating." The flagon of ale suddenly seems like a good idea. "Io says she's going to stand," she then bursts out with, a subject change if ever there was one. Devaki lets out a low chuckle. "Baby steps," he says, not looking the least bit apologetic. He knows her too well to miss that mix of emotion in her gaze before she looks away; he looks thoughtful, for his part. "Me? Exaggerating? Never," he disagrees, nudging the flagon towards her, but letting that particular uncomfortable thread go, since she releases the other, too. Only the new topic doesn't exactly set him at ease, "Oh?" he sounds interested, but-- odd. The latest rumor has them having some big fall out -- and certainly they haven't been seen in each other's company for sevendays. "That's... that's good, I think. I hope she finds what she's looking for." He fidgets a moment, fingers drifting through the sane, studying her sidelong. "And you? Your father hasn't mentioned marriage again lately, has he? I told grandfather I had some troubles figuring out the matches, and he's been unwell, so..." Too busy trying to attain composure via the ale, Riorde lets Devaki's ambition go unremarked on. When she sets down the flagon, Iolene is the not-quite-neutral subject she sticks with. "Well, she'll have to figure out a way still. We're not allowed." The Weyrleaders meting out punishment were rather unequivocal on how she, Rhaelyn, and Iolene are not to go near the eggs again. "But Iolene seems charmed," she continues, not realising the irony in the comment. "Sure she'll manage if she wants it." A pause, and her own quick glance. She almost asks, almost, but there are some things she'd rather not know, or maybe it's a rare moment of discretion. In either case, Riorde doesn't pry. Instead, with another of her scowls, she grumbles, "Only when he can find me to remind me." There's a slight pause from Devaki, as he considers that dilemna. "You could just walk out there, you know. Apparently they all wear the same thing, so it's not like they could pick you out. And they say hatchings happen quickly." He chuckles as a sudden thought strikes him, "I'm sure you could get that brownrider's help. She could get you a spare robe, or something. I could provide a distraction, if you wanted? Wave my arms about, or-- something. We could figure out something, if that's what you really wanted to you, I'll do whatever it is to help," he promises, fervently. He barely waits for her to set down the flagon before he's snatching it up to take a couple of gulps before resting it back on the sand between them. Although it's hardly surprising that a girl accustomed to vistas of the sea would stare at it now after months of absence, there is something stubborn in the way Riorde refuses to look elsewhere."I thought we were talking about getting Iolene on the sands," she says eventually, a little dry. "You think I should try for a dragon too?" That isn't the only thing she's asking; another unspoken question is camouflaged within the seemingly straight-forward appeal for Devaki's opinion. Without time for response, one question follows another. "What about you?" In case he misunderstands her--or rather, understands her too well--Riorde glances across and goes on, expanding with a satirical sense of humour, "Moving up from a Lady's shoes to a Lady's handbags to finally holding a Lady's hands?" Devaki's slow in answering, in fact, his immediate response in silence, his gaze, too, following hers towards the sea. He takes a deep breath, "It would be a way out for you. You could be your own person. Dragonriders don't marry. And you could be with... Taikrin," he says, slowly, his voice pointedly neutral. "It's a thought." His shoulders shift in a shrug, and the latter question draws his gaze towards her. "Me?" he frowns, then glances down at the shoes, smiling abruptly. "No, I don't--" he pauses, as if to consider her words for a beat rather than dismissing them out of hand. "I don't know. I was hoping maybe she might petition her father to help us acquire land that we could hold, a place that could be ours. But that doesn't seem likely." Whether the petitioning or the acquiring, he's not specific on. "I don't think it's like that," Riorde says, doubt entering her tone. She doesn't continue to posit the alternative, doesn't say anything more about Taikrin at all. "My own person." That's the point she settles on, lingering over the words with consideration. She leaves it there, following Devaki's gaze to the shoes and then back up. "Why not? We'd hold well. We know how to take care of ourselves." Devaki frowns briefly as he regards Riorde, though he doesn't pursue the talking of her standing. Instead, he takes another swig from the flagon before offering to the other islander. "They'd have to kick someone else out, or wait for someone to die or be unable to hold. And they'd be taking a chance on us. None of which I think they like. At least I got her thinking about it, and maybe, one day--" there's a wistful tone in his voice. "--we can have a holding on the sea. And fish. I think Rilka and Shimana would like that, even if it isn't the island." "I hope it works," Riorde states, utterly sincere. "Even if it takes time. We aren't meant to rest on other people's charity." Taking another pull from the flagon operates as the break in her more sober conduct; when she puts it down, she's summoned a rather sly grin. "So," she starts off, a question with an unmistakable trap, "what'd you get me for my turnday?" "Me too," Devaki says, "But I wouldn't hold my breath at this point. If all else fails, though, I've plans to become a dangerous pirate." He strikes what's probably supposed to be a fearsome looking pose, but is really anything but -- it looks like he's just scrunching up his nose and making a face. "Once I figure out an appropriate pirate name, anyway--" and here, it's clear Riorde catches him completely off guard. "I, uh-- right, your Turnday. Well, I... I can't give it to you yet. It's at the Weyr." He's totally lying, and she knows him well enough to tell. Nonetheless, Riorde laughs. "You'll have the grow a beard," she advises. But speculating over pirate names and appearance doesn't mean he's off the hook; Riorde intends to see him wriggle further. Leaning in with a smile that aspires to be innocent, she prompts, "You could still tell me. I'll pretend to act surprised and everything. Besides, you know I hate surprises." She doesn't keep it up though, can't in fact, not after she starts grinning. "It's tomorrow, anyway," Ri admits, relenting. "You're hopeless at turndays." Speculatively, Devaki runs his hand over his chin. "Reckon I could do that." He's grinning, though. "As for the present, well, half the fun is if it's a surprise." And normally the surprise from him is no present at all. "And I--" and then she lets him off the hook, and he exhales, and /stares/ at her. "You're a very, very bad girl, Ri," he mock-growls. "If you're not careful, the sea monster'll come after you for that sort of thing." He takes another swig from the flagon, then leans forward as if to offer it to her, which allows him to lean behind her with the intention of brushing fingers at the back of her neck as if it were some sort of attack from said sea monster. "Terrible," Riorde agrees, sounding proud about it. "I'm sure you deserve it. Sea monster, ha-- I'll take my chances," she declares, some show of bravery from childhood that Devaki's doubtlessly heard before. She appears to fall for the flagon-ruse, reaching for it as her due. The touch feels like a tickle and makes her shivers reflexively, shoulders hiking up towards her ears, eyes and nose crinkled and scrunched. "Unfair," she declares, playfully accusatory. "Careful, the sea monster knows where you sleep." "Yes, yes, it does-- good point," Devaki concedes, and his hand drops away. "And since I'm suitably afraid of the sea monster and what it may or may not have learnt from the Other..." he trails off, brushing some sand off him as he stifles a yawn, before leaning back and stretching out on the sand. "Think they would mind if we slept out here?" he wonders. "Haven't heard any ringing alarms-- and my escort knows where I am, anyway." "Knife tricks, I've heard," Riorde intones, straight-faced. That grave, faintly humorous expression turns a little thoughtful before she stretches out alongside Devaki. Being proprietorial to cover for unsureness, she attempts to claim Devaki's arm and put it around her for warmth and a pillow. "Doubt it, with the dancing and everything else. Who knows how long it goes on. Besides, what does it matter if they mind? If they send us back, we'll just get a different ride." She gives no indication of intending to go anywhere else, escort or no escort. Devaki seems more than content with the idea of being a pillow for Riorde, his arm curving around her as her whim dictates. His other arm drops almost possessively over her waist, laughing at her words, "I love how practical you are about it all. I think you've adjusted better to this life than you think," he says fondly. "And you're probably used to getting into trouble, right?" he adds, wiggling around a bit until he's comfortable on the sand. "You do?" Surprise both vocal and visible; Riorde will mull over that at length, later. Now, though, she willfully banishes all serious considerations as she confirms, "I've never been in so much trouble." Somehow, in this moment, she doesn't sound entirely rueful. Not when trouble means ending up on a beach with a boy she likes. Gathers are grand. |
Leave A Comment