Logs:The Imp And The Wolf
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| RL Date: 22 August, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, Klohi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Klohi bond over makeup. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: BFFs for Lyfe. |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. The lunch rush has come and gone, though one table sounds as if it's in full swing. A table of riders, judging by their various state of dress, leathers, and knots, are being particularly rowdy. The group is almost comically split down the middle, one end shouting at the other and growing progressively louder. Closest to the middle is Klohi, and though she shouts her opinion on occassion, she's much more interested in her small hand mirror and palette of colors. Finally, just before the argument reaches a violent peak, Hailstorm breaks apart-- leaving a suddenly disinterested Klohi to her make up. Belated lunch-goers come straggling in, earning themselves the cold dregs of the food. Rather than subject herself to stale crusts and murky soup, Farideh moves listlessly through the tables, undoubtedly distracted. She's passing the noisy Hailstorm table as they break apart, which leaves her skeptical gaze to fall on Klohi and her makeup. "Is that?" she says, gaping, but then she just 'sits down' and makes herself comfortable across from the greenrider. "I haven't seen makeup in," she starts counting off her fingers, "three weeks at least." The strange non-rider is ignored for a moment, Klohi's concentration aimed at blending blue eyeshadow with pink at the edges. Tilting her head this way and that, she finally glances at Farideh with an appraising up and down flick of dark eyes. Bright red lips pinch in a smug smile, "You have no idea what I had to do to get it. As if anyone here can appreciate the finer things." And though her choice in colors seem peculiar, it certainly works with such a rich complexion. Vibrant and fashionably gaudy. As if she's not at all curious, "Three weeks?" Appreciation is easy come, easy go, but Farideh is all smiles as she watches the other woman apply her makeup. "No, they don't. If it doesn't revolve around drinking, working, dirt, or that dimglow Weyrleader of ours, they don't consider it at all." She is expressive as she speaks, punctuating her words with hand flips and eye rolling. Then she balances on elbow on the table's edge and rests her chin on her fist, regarding Klohi wistfully. "Yes, 'three' long weeks. I've only been here that long, before that you wouldn't believe the things I had access to. Eye kohl, rouge.." and here she ends on a dreamy sigh - all girl. "Oh Faranth." Klohi eyes roll hard enough that she might strain something at Farideh's perfect assessment of the Weyr. "It's all work, work, work! We're in an Interval. Get over it." Mention of their infamous Weyrleader has the greenrider tsking, "Well it's a job that you get by thinking with your dick. He's really good at that." There's a knowing lift of her brows aimed at the other girl before she goes back to checking herself in the mirror. Not quite sincere, "That is the saddest story." And with a quick glance over, "I don't share. But... I know where to get your own." Those smart comments elicit genuine laughter from Farideh. "I wouldn't have thought he was any good at that by looking at him. He's so pale and annoying." That sews up her opinion on the Weyrleader, right there. Her laughter subsides and she regards Klohi as one stares down their equal - one ridiculous bitch to another. "Oh? What do I have to 'do' for you to share this knowledge?" It's a tense moment, her arms crossed over her chest; her discerning gaze continues to focus on the girl across the table. Klohi is quick to add, "I wouldn't know, personally." Because ew. "But let's just say like dragon, like rider." That smug little smile returns, "I don't know, what can you do?" For Klohi, specifically. Perhaps it's the sense of a kindred spirit, for the greenrider doesn't dangle it over Farideh's head for too long. "You could just owe me, I guess. I mean, I can stand to talk to you so that's something." High praise, indeed. Double 'ew' - Farideh looks disgusted enough at the idea for the both of them. "That's gross." She switches just as easily into a smirk, uncrossing her arms so she can smooth strays bits of her brown hair from her face. "I don't know, unless you want a pair of turquoise earrings. I can't do much otherwise. I could owe you, for some time you need it. You never know when you might need a friend," she says with a wide smile that does not reach her eyes this time; it's toothy, wolfish. "Turquoise earrings or a friend." Both seem equal in Klohi's eyes, and it takes her perhaps a few seconds longer than it should to answer. Complete with upward gaze and slowly curling tongue, "Well... alright." She straightens with a suddenly wide smile, a vicious imp to Farideh's wolf. "You can keep your earrings. It'll be nice to go with someone who has taste, for once." That and, "You're pretty and all, but some rouge wouldn't hurt." A compliment, of sorts. A hand shoots out, an offering, to seal the deal between the imp and the wolf. "I'm Farideh, but don't call me Fari. And I agree. I'm constantly pinching my cheeks to get some color in them but it's nothing like the real thing." Her grin widens some, all-encompassing. "I like your eyeshadow, but I bet you'd look good in gold too." There they go, friends already, exchanging compliments and makeup tips. It's surprising how quickly Klohi accepts that hand, "Klohi." Her focus fades in and out as a sudden reminder, "Oh. And green Quinzeth is my dragon." That wide mouth is stretched to its limits in a dazzling smile, "I do wear gold, sometimes. You have such good tast-- Oh. My. Faranth." Farideh's hand is turned over, laundry-abused nails earning a shocked stare. "No. No. Okay? I have some lotions and oils in my weyr. They'll help." So much for Klohi's rule about not sharing. "Nice to meet you and one day, Quinzeth." Pleased as a cat who gets the cream, until her new friend discovers the reddened, blistered hands; sacrificed to the Weyr's laundry. Farideh is embarrassed, trying to pull her hands away to hide any further scrutiny. "I know, I know, I haven't gotten any of that either - not that it matters. All the water exposure and heat. I don't think the best creams would work." Klohi is not having it. "No, come on." Farideh's hand is released, but only so the greenrider can collect her make up and mirror. "You have to get the stuff that's mixed with medicine. You have no idea what dragonriding will do to your nails." Hers are nearly perfect, except for one stunted arch that appears to be growing back. "You can meet Quinzeth now. I'll go up and get you some. To keep." It won't be an overly generous amount, but it'll do for a few days. "We really should be making you a list." Honestly, how could Farideh be 'roughing it' for so long? An array of emotions crosses the brunette's face: surprise, amusement, and melancholy. They all have their own reasons. "I shouldn't take any if you need it," Farideh says warily, but she rises and moves around the table to follow the greenrider. "Thank you," more chagrined, continuing embarrassment; any normal laundress would brush off illusions of being 'prettified', but she's sincere in her despondency over being without cosmetic luxury, "I really appreciate it." If not for her precious supplies, Klohi's hands would probably flutter at Farideh's gratitude. "If you're going to be seen with me," Which, apparently, the greenrider plans on, "You gotta look your best. And that can't be good for you." A mix of selfish motivation and genuine concern: Klohi. "Besides, you still owe me." After such a reminder, the rider will lead Farideh outside where the vibrant green is waiting. No doubt there's more gossip, list-making, and planning for when the laundress is able to be whisked off to the land of cosmetics. |
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