Logs:See, Aleis Has This Skylight
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| RL Date: 27 April, 2010 |
| Who: Val, Aleis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: When someone (Aleis) has a skylight, someone (Val) has to put it to use. |
| Where: Aleis and Galbreth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 8, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: "Or if you have to do things where you might get hurt, do it somewhere I don't have to watch you." |
| OOC Notes: V/V: still Benden. |
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| Aleis and Galbreth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Inside, stone shelves of varying heights and sizes provide good shelving for various trinkets. An old desk to the right of the entranceway boasts a few leftover hides; there's a wobbly stool in front of it. Further back, a large cavern in the right wall, about two feet up from the floor has been made into a sleeping chamber, the bubble-shaped hollow stuffed with a mattress and generous pillows and blankets in cool colors. At the very top of this chamber over the head of the bed, a quirk of the rock creates an open space, a short tunnel that shows a generous patch of sky above it, its slight tilt keeping out rain and snow. On past the sleeping quarters is a fireplace, set into the back. Its once-beautiful wood mantle is cracked and warped, its run-down state matching the general aged look of the rest of the place. Maybe it's just coincidence. Or maybe Val knows Aleis's schedule, somehow. Or maybe weyrling schedules just doesn't change that much from Weyr to Weyr. In any case, when the assistant weyrlingmaster gets off work, there's a big brown sprawled across her ledge and soaking up its northern summer's sunshine. A big brown dragon... that is not hers. But then, Aleis had asked to find out ahead of time, last time... right? It's not that there aren't plenty of people willing to talk about Aleis' schedule, anyway. It must be widely known by now. Mostly it's work, and work, and work, and then in the evening go home and sleep. Home... to that other dragon waiting there. It is at least some kind of warning. Aleis is a little slower than usual about dismounting. Going inside. "Hello?" Hesitant. Yes, she knows Visigoth when she sees him. "Val?" Visigoth's got an amiable rumble for Galbreth, unless it's for his rider: yes, there's still room enough for you to sleep. Go nap. He probably will. Calls his rider, "In here!" Which is to say, in Aleis' bed, as invited. Sort of. Which is to say, it's more as though Val's over it, crawled up into that tilted tunnel that under normal circumstances provides a view of more than just long brown legs and a fluttering pair of shorts. At least those dangling feet are bare: no boots tracking dirt inside. Muffled: "Did you know there's a sort of... space out here?" Galbreth is not bothered at all by visitors. He's surrounded by other dragons all day. What's one more? He settles in as Aleis goes inside, gets far enough to see bare feet. And legs. And then start pointedly looking in a direction that is not legs. "What do you mean, a sort of space? I mean, I know it's open. Nice for the fresh air and all at this time of year, but what the hell are you doing here anyway?" The topic seems to veer a little sideways before that question, as the absurdity of it hits. That here gets translated to where-she-is, apparently: "There's a hollow up here. Could put beer up here when the weather's cooler." The legs kick for purchase, and start trying to disappear up through the awkwardly-placed-for-humans narrow opening. It's a pity they don't have eyes to notice Aleis's not-looking, really. "If you get stuck," Aleis calls from where she's still not looking and is in fact going to find something alcoholic even if her usual poison is not beer, "I am going to leave you up there a few days just to teach you a lesson." See, she's educational even when she's mad. Although it's hard to be too terribly mad. Her voice mostly comes off as baffled. "Val, why are you climbing around in my weyr?" "You don't want to do that," Val says. With certainty. One lurch later, and she's up past her knees, and from there it's all smooth sailing. Sort of. There's a curse or two, followed by an appreciative whistle at something. But she does remember to answer Aleis, like a good girl: "It was here." "I'll sleep in the office." Maybe this is less teacher-y than annoyed-older-siblingy. Or something like that. "Two, three days. Without food. Or beer." A clinking of glass below. A sound of liquid pouring. "There's nothing below you that can't launder when I finally call someone else to come haul you out. Some burly young man who will almost certainly get fresh with you in the process." Well, she'd see it as a threat, anyway. "What are you whistling at?" "Still means pissing on your bed," Val gives Aleis right back, and the smirk is all but audible: you asked. There's movement, and then her head peers in this time, her long braid hanging down like Rapunzel's. "Laundry or no laundry. And pissing off your neighbors. I'm loud." Does that have a salacious curl to it? It does. "Speaking of which... you should come see." The peering is going to catch one watching face--now that there's less leg to be looking at--and a scowl on it that should be terribly, terribly familiar. "You're not going to beat the greenrider next weyr over. He shrieks to wake the dead." And the pronoun should be enough, but the tone indicates quite well how excited she isn't to have to listen to that. "What is it you want me to see? A place to keep beer cold? I'm not up to climbing up there, anyway. I'm not your age." Pointed. At that, Val's brows go up... or down, technically, with the whole inversion thing. Much as how, inverted, the other brownrider could almost be imagined to be smiling. "Really." And since Aleis isn't her age, she asks with considerable interest, "Are you dead?" Withering: "No, I am not dead." That smile briefly turns itself upside-down, just a little bit. But amusement fades. "Don't you have your own weyr to climb around in? Or you can go visit some of my neighbors. I'm sure they all have fascinating places of residence. Even more fascinating than mine." So withering, "You wound me," Val claims, only to disappear again. After spotting that amusement, however brief, but it's get right-side-up or turn purple. "Besides. I'm bored with my weyr. I know all its ins and outs..." and speaking of ins, here come her toes again, starting the descent. And the eyes shift away again for Val's climb back down, as Aleis turns her attention to her poured drink. She's the type to take a dozen tiny sips instead of one longer drink, it seems. It fills up more time that way. "Well, move into a different one. That isn't mine. And stop climbing around things where you might get hurt. Or if you have to do things where you might get hurt, do it somewhere I don't have to watch you." Despite the current lack of watching. Such a heavy sigh from such a small-framed woman. Toes and knees and... hips, barely, barely making it past the stone without a wince made of more than awkwardness. Not even an exaggerated one. "Yes, ma'am," says Val instead, hanging from her curled hands. She could be penitent. Some women of a certain age, maybe of a certain generation or upbringing, would say something like 'don't call me ma'am'. Aleis? Just lets out a long sigh and finally turns around to wait for Val to extract herself completely from the vicinity of Aleis' bed. "I got your... present, you know." Despite the lack of thank-you notes ever forthcoming. "I suppose I shouldn't be too shocked. I figured you'd have come back before now." Speaking of that lack, "It was such a nice thank you note you wrote," Val says from where she hangs. "You have lovely handwriting." She lets go, drops, into the pillows or whatever else Aleis has left there. "And you wrote it so quickly, too. Your mother must have been proud." "My mother, if she is still alive, would have pointed things to say about my thank you notes, as well as my lack of being owned by an appropriate husband." The one thing that can be said for Aleis' bed is that it is well-cushioned. Her one and only taste of comfort and that completely overboard. "Is this just a game, Val? Come and see how much you can annoy me?" Well-cushioned: bounce, bounce... not quite a thud when Val takes her next hop onto the floor, but not exactly quiet, either. "You invited me back, last time." You liiiiked it. "Did you like your gift?" A faint smile, but that's just for Val finally being away from her bed. Really. "I must have temporarily taken leave of my senses. Or possibly just been hoping you'd forget and it would get you to go away." Pause. Longer pause. "It was nice." Another pause. "Weird, but nice." Aleis sips again. "Well. You're here. Do you want a drink?" As long as she's stuck with this interloper and all. Sort of away. Not on, at least. For all that Val seems to like to make herself at home, so far she's been fastidious about not rolling around in Aleis's covers. Even now, though she sits, it's not on so much as the mattress's edge. Instead, it's on the rug beneath, leaning back against the two-foot riser. "I'm glad you liked it," she says, and yawns behind her hand. "Please. It's so bright." Out there, at least. "It's called the sun," Aleis advises with a smirk, but she pours another glass for Val, even carries it over. Great hostess. Her mother might at least be proud of that much. Maybe. "I'm starting to think you just come here for the free alcohol. I probably shouldn't be furnishing you with more. It just encourages you. At least I haven't started laying in stocks of snack food yet, Faranth forbid." Val reaches up to take it, agrees, "Couldn't have that." She rides the burn of her first swallow, doesn't immediately have another. "It was here or Southern. He wanted that thing you call the sun... Tell me more about your mother? Or your father. I'm," and here she gives Aleis a long glance. "Not picky." Tone suddenly quite chilly: "I haven't seen either of them since before you were born." And that seems to be all Aleis intends to say on the subject of her parents. Her gaze settles with some discomfort on her glass, and the next drink is a longer one. Needed. "Southern is probably better than here, but I guess it's still a bit muggy in the tropics. Something to be said for summer here. Stays warm but... crisper." Val's quick blink nears a flinch. She looks away, though not right away, only after Aleis starts studying her glass. While studying her own, the younger brownrider muses, "Like white wine," quite as though Aleis would know anything about that. "If we wanted muggy, we could go to Ista." Funny how she's smiling again, a secret curve of a thing. "Yes. Like white wine." Hey, it's not that Aleis' taste in alcohol is all that exclusive. You live in Benden, you get to know the stuff at least a little bit. "Certainly. You can go anywhere you like. I'm not in charge of where you spend your leisure time. I'm just baffled by your propensity for spending it at High Reaches. In my weyr. I'm rather accustomed to my weyr being... mine. Alone." Pointedly. Val manages to look faintly, eloquently shocked: not just brandy? Really? "Not to discount Galbreth," really. "But where else would I get free booze? Everywhere else thinks I look... twelve." Since Aleis keeps dwelling on her age, and all. She even has a bright smile to go with it, though one that doesn't say twelve at all. "Twelve, twenty--what was it? Five?" Aleis cannot be bothered to keep track of these things, evidently. They've certainly had this discussion before. "Close enough. Anyway. Galbreth's different. And, rather notably, does not fit this far inside, so would not be in *here* even so," she points out. Then, "So, if I gave you a bottle, you'd just go away and leave me be? Hypothetically?" And then comes a just as eloquent shrug: fine, fine, five, Galbreth-not-fitting, whatever. "That has to depend," Val muses into thin air, her chin looking especially pointed as she does so. "Is it an empty bottle?" And now she's looking back at Aleis, just a slide of her eyes, her head not moving at all as though it's a secret just between the two of them, something that no one else should witness. "All you have to do is ask... nicely. And I'll go." "I have a lot of empty bottles. I have a few that aren't." Aleis studies her glass again, sets it down this time without drinking from it. "You go, but then you're always back, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about that. It makes me uncomfortable, Val. I can't... see into your head to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing, here, but whatever you're looking for, I'm not it." Which she has already said a hundred times a hundred different ways by now, no? Now Val turns the rest of the way to her, listening, though of course she also has to point out, "Back once." So far. And when the other brownrider gives her more of a pause, "Do you always try to look into people's heads, Aleis? Because you don't. Have to. Whatever happened... to just taking things as they come?" "It died a long time ago. Part of getting old, I think." Something distant to it. "Go home, Val," Aleis says at last. "Or go somewhere else. Not here. I need to get some sleep. Morning comes entirely too early still, even now that we're past them being babies." Ghost of a smile. "Thank you for not getting stuck in my skylight." Val reaches back to loop her braid over her shoulder, the better to pet its tip like a paintbrush she's about to take up, and then lets it lie. She drinks the brandy instead and, this time, doesn't leave Aleis anything. "And never come back?" she checks, half a challenge. A thoughtful silence. "My life," Aleis admits, "would be considerably more dull if you never came back. But another day." She goes to put the empty glasses aside and the bottle safely away, where it can't be all out and tempting. "Another day. And maybe on that other day, you could bring something in the way of pastries or something, to make up for all these drinks." Why, that almost sounds like an invitation. A practiced toss of her head sends the braid lying across her back again, and that's how Val takes Aleis's answer. Since Aleis has also taken care of the glasses, the younger brownrider merely rises... and gives the older brownrider just a hint of a smile. "So you'd like it sweet, not salty," she says. "I'll remember." It's far too close to obedient. "One day or another... Good night, Aleis." Well, if Val brings something else, it's still more than Val has contributed so far, so it's hard to really lose in this scenario, presumably. Aleis smiles, actually smiles. "Good night," she offers, then heads towards the entryway, lingering there, waiting for the younger rider to actually make her exit. And that younger rider actually obliges, padding out barefoot the way she'd come, though she stays out longer on the ledge with their two dragons before actually leaving for good. Or maybe for bad. Seeing as how she's left Aleis a present: a small chunk of smelly cheese, far enough past the skylight that the sun can get at it... while closer, in a niche that both shades it and makes it less easy to see on a casual glance from down below, a small bottle of what really is good Benden wine. Ripe, as it were, for discovery. |
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