Logs:To New Friends
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| RL Date: 5 October, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, H'vier, N'vad, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier wants a booty call, N'vad wants H'vier to leave unsuspecting women alone, Edyis wants everyone to stop fighting, and Farideh wants to be a man. Just another night at the bar! |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy, windy. |
| Mentions: Tayte/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, Lycinea/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. While winter winds whip the snow outside, fire crackles in the hearth at the Snowasis and the drinks are eagerly poured. It is midday and largely vacant, but the regulars fill their seats and a few other weyrfolk have made themselves comfortable throughout the former-weyr. Farideh is huddled on the couch in from of the flames, her legs curled up under her, her skinny arms wrapped around a pillow. Her drink - something light and fruity smelling - has been set on the coffee table just in front, and as yet, she's only taken a couple sips. Her focus is lowered to the plush rug on the floor, unaware of any traffic that passes by or that one guy no body likes flopping into a chair across the way. This particular bronzerider has plenty of reasons to be celebrating right now, given his recently officialized rank of Wingleader. That means he's had a few drinks already with some of his wingriders. But now they've started to disperse to do their own thing and H'vier is on the prowl. And what better woman to prowl than one who has, in the past, already proven herself willing. It's to the guy in the chair across from her that he says, "Beat it," to, however. He wants that seat. Being a regular would require N'vad to have actually been at High Reaches for a longer period of time, but he's working on it steadily. It's hardly the sort of weather to be spending time outside, and spending time holed up in your weyr is for sad, lonely people. Spending time in the middle of the afternoon sitting at the bar with an old-fashioned glass half-empty and scribbling in a notebook, that's so very much more sociable. The words penetrate the laundress' thoughts, but rather than seek out whom is speaking to whom, she snaps back: "I will not beat an--" But of course, midway through, she looks up with furious hazel eyes and takes in H'vier speaking to guy-no-body-likes; the latter is quick to get up and leave, sulking off for places unknown. "You," is all she says, shifting away so she can balance her elbow on the arm of the couch and her stubborn chin on the top of her fist. Her posture is that of someone who doesn't want to be bothered, and more so, by that particular bronzerider. H'vier settles into that chair, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table near her drink as he gives Farideh a grin that says more than he could reasonably put into words. So amused. And smug. "I've been forbidden from fucking you, Farideh. Aren't you disappointed? I know how much you enjoyed yourself last time." The only time. "But I think I want you even more now." That it's forbidden. "Want to get out of here?" Skills one cultivates during a period leading a wing that has lasted longer than can be measured in days: situational awareness. Even when one isn't looking in the direction of the situation in question, apparently. N'vad puts a period at the end of a sentence, shifts the class so that it is perched halfway on top of the open pages to hold the little book that way while the ink dries, and pushes up from the bar. Cane--ah, there it is. It's not quite the same confident stride when one's leaning so heavily on a stick, but it is what it is. "Reckon the young lady ain't interested in being troubled just now." Is it his business? Evidently it is now. "I am so disappointed," Farideh says, rolling her eyes towards the sky until they fall on the bronzerider. She graces him with an exaggerated smile. "I thought she was your ex girlfriend." Her unkind smile stays, though her eyes narrow a smidge; just as quickly, they widen, as she switches her attention to the newcomer. Mouth falling into a small 'o', she glances between the two men, eyebrows lifted. "I'm not," she avers, completing her short observation by settling her perplexed gaze on N'vad. It isn't often someone comes to her "rescue"! Being interrupted by some guy H'vier doesn't even recognize earns N'vad a dark look from the large bronzerider. He eyes the cane, arches a judgmental eyebrow and says, "Mind your fucking business, cripple." This his attention is returning to Farideh so he can point out, "It's your girlfriend that has a problem with it." Well, his probably does, too. But he won't talk about her right now. N'vad: Turns older and looks it, four inches shorter, not nearly as broad in the shoulder, leaning on the handle of a polished piece of wood like none of that is true. "Fella makin' a scene when I sit down for a drink and some peace, that makes it my business. Fella tryin' to impose on a young lady who made it clear she don't want his company, that, that you ain't got a right a privacy for to start with." He clears his throat, favors Farideh with a nod but not a smile. Then, with a brow inclined at H'vier: "Sooner be a cripple than a thug, all the same t'you. Just move along, no need for trouble." H'vier's insult earns him a sharp gasp from the laundress. Looks like someone isn't getting any tonight from this (former) willing participant. A stern, irritated glare is given the newly appointed wingleader. "I don't have a girlfriend," Farideh explains slowly, with no lack of annoyance and all the earmarks of someone talking down to an imaginative child. "Your excuses sure are getting colorful." But for N'vad, she has a sunny smile, coupled with pleasant words. "Thank you, sir." He earns a sir, see. The bronzerider slowly pulls first one foot, then the other, from the short table. Then he's drawing himself up onto said feet to his full, broad height. H'vier steps toward N'vad, his good mood no where to be seen, right up into his personal space because that's the sort of guy he is. "You haven't seen me make a scene yet, old man." Though the bluerider is definitely drawing out the thug in him. He doesn't comment on just who is supposed to be Farideh's girlfriend, but he's a little busy with his new friend now. How did N'vad hurt his leg? It might have had something to do with whatever thing in the bluerider's brain that allows him to stand there, bad leg and all, and just glower up at the bronzerider. "Mmnyeah, see, realize it can be a bit misleadin', but it ain't bad joints, and I reckon I been hurt worse than what you could muster up, so that ain't half the threat you think it is." A beat. "You want to prove something about your manhood, there, reckon you ought to act like one, and treat the young lady like a lady. You think there been a woman in all history been impressed by a man throwing a punch at a cripple?" Calmer than he ought to be. Snow is whirling outside and inside, it's not much better. By the hearth, Farideh is seated on one of the couches, and not far away, H'vier and N'vad are standing eye-to-eye - or something close. She may have been willing to side with N'vad given the bronzerider's insult, but their testosterone-filled banter is making her roll her eyes and exhale loudly just for their benefit. Can they feel her impatience? It's quite palpable. Unlike what a smart person she do, she tosses the pillow she had been holding aside and moves to H'vier's side, where she tries reaches out a hand to lay on his forearm. "H'vier," she says sternly, quietly, waiting for him to acknowledge her, if he will at all. Any number of things brings most folks into the Snowasis, but tonight even as she's shaking the snow off, her attention is drawn by testosterone laden commentary. Normally this is not a cause for intervention, at least until she realizes who is involved. "Really this is unbecoming of someone who just stole their knot by getting their Wingleader pregnant." Edyis, pure tact and civility. H'vier does not look particularly threatened by a man like N'vad. Not that he usually has the good sense to look threatened by anyone. He does look like he's ramping up toward physical contact, though, jaw tight and muscles tense. There's a good chance that it's Farideh's contact that keeps him from crossing that line just now, however. H'vier doesn't look at her, but he says, "You change your--" And then he pauses and he does turn his head to look in the direction of that commentary. "Come again?" Anyone want to take bets on whether H'vier will hit a girl instead? Anyone? If N'vad were a betting man, well, he'd still be otherwise engaged at this point. Aside from a shifting of weight, he's not so much tense as just still making his unimpressed face. He might not have noted Edyis' arrival at all--kind of in the middle of something here--except that H'vier does, and that's enough to make him at least glance over, and one eyebrow climbs. "Reckon that's one way to do it." Farideh is looking at H'vier, poised to answer, but Edyis has all their attention in the end. "What?" she asks without really asking. Her whole demeanor changes from beseeching to.. anger, as she turns on the bronzerider. "Your girlfriend is your Wingleader?" Voice is raised and high-pitched, her face incredulous, as her eyes rake him from head to toe. Her hands reach out to shove him, though little it does, given how slight of build she is. "What is wrong with you!" And now, the tables are turned, and it's Farideh who is trying to stare H'vier down. Edyis has his attention now. Good. Well perhaps not so good, but it doesn't stop her from closing the distance between herself and N'vad. A twist of a smile offered as she catches N'vad's words and nods. "It's the sort of thing that takes a lot of - guts." And Farideh now catches her attention, causing the scribe to give the most lopsided grin ever. "Fayla stepped down for reasons relating to Maternity leave." She adds, for her friend's benefit. "Really I should buy you a drink H'vier, I didn't think you were the sort to plan out your rise through the ranks so thoroughly." And, just like that, H'vier isn't paying nearly as much attention to the only person he might actually, vaguely, consider a threat to his person right now. "No," is his almost immediate response to Farideh's screech. But he glares over at Edyis again with a heartfelt, "Fuck you. I didn't knock her up on purpose, so save your drink for someone else. And she didn't fucking step down. She was replaced." Because H'vier is clearly more awesome than her. And now that he's all pissed off again, his attention comes back to N'vad long enough to growl, "Back the fuck off." Long enough to growl, long enough for N'vad to look at him with brows furrowed, lips pressed thin. Finally, wise or otherwise, a decision seems to be reached: "Reckon I was standing here before you were standing there," he says, and then, "sir," so full of gravel that it's a wonder he can actually force it out. All propriety observed: acknowledgment of rank without accompanying acknowledgment of authority. Not N'vad's wing, after all, is it? A 'no' from the bronzerider is not nearly as effective as Edyis' name-dropping. It's in the midst of a slur along the lines of "you stupid son of a-" that Farideh stops and swings her gaze around to the scribe. Her eyebrows come together at the same time her lips purse. "Fayla?" Back to H'vier, those knitted brows lifting haughtily. "You knocked up two women at the same time? I really should not be surprised," she says with dripping sarcasm, but then, she's washed her hands of H'vier and N'vad now, so she goes back to plopping theatrically on the couch. This time, she does grab her drink, and makes sure to empty more than half before setting it back with a loud 'thunk' on the table and a glare in the two dragonriders' direction. Normally, she would invite her friend, Edyis, to join, but she pointedly wants to sulk, over here, by herself, where she can watch the men argue for pissing rights. The smirk of complete approval at the oldtimer's growl, isn't something Edyis can particularly hide. Though she doesn't miss the sulking, and in an instant the initial diversion is undone. Sigh. "I would H'vier, but you just aren't my type. Nice choice as first act as Wingleader by the way, setting a good example isn't it." The astute might realize she's scrambling for a plan B, or at least trying to divert the bronzerider's ire. "Come on N'vad, I'll buy you a round then." Much more deserving of it, seems to be the implication. Moving in attempt to link her arm through the blueriders, maybe she can avoid violence? It's worth a shot aming for Farideh's couch. Of course if he doesn't allow for it, she seems determined to join Farideh on the couch regardless. H'vier's tension is palpable. And whatever keeps him from lifting a hand to the bluerider might just have to remain a mystery forever, because it's certainly neither N'vad nor Edyis. His expression looks a lot like a snarl when the bronzerider finally turns away. It's not toward Farideh that he heads, however. He's aimed toward the patio and the cold air beyond. "Sweetheart." N'vad is at least distracted by Edyis, but there's no hint of a smile returning. He goes to put a hand on her arm or something, but he is not being steered. Not even with H'vier departing. "That ain't the sort of thing you get in the middle of, you hear me? Ever. Girl like you can get hurt that way. Don't care how smart you think you are, you don't provoke a man like that." He glances off after H'vier, then tacks on: "Or let him get you alone." Farideh gets another frown. "He bothers you more, you tell somebody, or a couple somebodies." Overly cautious? If there's a hint of scolding in it, it's the sort of don't-go-out-dressed-like-that a man might give his daughter's friends. "I got things to attend to just now." But not an urgent departure; more like back to pay off his tab and the like. That's that, right? Right! Wrong. Edyis might be joining her on the couch, but Farideh isn't happy to just let bygones be bygones. Someone is going to apologize, by Faranth. "I can handle him on my own, than you very much," Farideh clips out to N'vad, as she unfolds herself from the couches and steps past the bluerider to yell at the departing bronzerider, "You coward! You stupid, dumb, dim-witted, good-for-nothing.. bastard." An actual cuss word, look at that. But she continues to fume, glaring after H'vier with her fists on her hips. She visibly relaxes once H'vier departs, though it's the scolding that catches her by surprise. "I - I'm sorry. Didn't mean to provoke him that badly, just did it initially to divert his attention, you expect better behavior out of a Wingleader." The excuses come up lame, and she just frets under the scolding, clearly the consequences hadn't fully occurred to her, moving over to plop next to Farideh now, with a frown. At least until Farideh is cursing and swearing and just leaving her more confused. "I think I really need to learn to mind my own business from now on." She mutters the last. See how H'vier doesn't stop? That's how much he cares about Farideh's bitching after him. She visibly relaxes once H'vier departs, though it's the scolding that catches her by surprise. "I - I'm sorry. Didn't mean to provoke him that badly, just did it initially to divert his attention, you expect better behavior out of a Wingleader." The excuses come up lame, and she just frets under the scolding, clearly the consequences hadn't fully occurred to her, moving over to plop next to Farideh now, with a frown. At least until Farideh is cursing and swearing and just leaving her more confused. "I think I really need to learn to mind my own business from now on." She mutters the last. Pulling something out of her bag and tossing it into the girl's lap as a diversion. "You lost the bet by the way, but I heard from some of the other laundresses that you had a birthday. It's late but -" She gestures blankly, maybe this will divert Farideh. All of that fight and bluster doesn't disappear just because H'vier does. Farideh stomps back to the couch and sits down without any fanfare, crossing her arms as she pouts at something across the room. "What?" she fairly growls, but the package in her lap is enough to soften the harsh lines of her frown. "For my- Edyis, you didn't have to do that." There's a smile for the thought, but her fingers are mostly busy trying to get the gift open. "I didn't think anyone would remember. Eighteen is an awfully old age to turn." Dark brows furrow, "It isn't that old." Having been 18 turns for some time now, she doesn't think it is anyway. "Goes much quicker than you think it would. Of course I didn't have to, I wanted to. It is the sort of thing that friends do right?" There may be more uncertainty than intended in the last. "No one should be forgotten on their turnday. I'm just sorry I was late getting it to you, it took a while to track down the crafter who made those gloves." "Edyis, eighteen is the time in a woman's life when everything changes. You are just two turns away from twenty, which is, like, so old." There is desperation in that tone, a sense of believing her own callous words. Farideh finally gets it open enough to spill out the gloves she had been eyeing at the gather last. She gasps, happily, and running her hands over the soft kid leather. Then, she'll turn and give Edyis a lasting hug. When she pulls back, it's with a smile still on her face. "It is, and I'm glad to have you as mine. You must tell me when your turnday is. How old will you be?" she asks with a curious look, but quickly, her eyes drop back to the gloves in her lap. Her expression softens a little at the desperation emanating from the laundress, but it warms considerably at the hug, which she returns with a chuckle. "It's far less depressing than you would think, being eighteen. Second month, Twenty-second day, though I haven't really celebrated it for a couple of turns though. I will be turning nineteen." A little bit rueful, though her smile doesn't fade in the least. Oh, Edyis. Sad eyes turn to the scribe, her fingers continuing to caress the precious gloves like the treasure they are. "I always said I wanted to have exciting, wonderful adventures before I turned twenty. Coming to the Reaches was one, but I'm not done and there's so little time," Farideh says, letting her head loll back against the couch cushions. "What a poor lot in life we have, Edyis, to be born as women." For whatever reason, the laundress has turned from her normal cheerful-if-easily-angered temperament to something more depressed - likely, it's the turnday to blame. "If we were men, what could we do? Every door would be open for us." "You still can you know." The scribe's reply comes thoughtfully, "Have adventures I mean. I've lived in Monaco, watched the shipbuilders in Tillek, seen the inside of Keroon Hold, Spent lots of time on Ista's beaches" She trails off a moment reminiscing. "And all of that has only been in the last two turns or so. Just because you get a little bit older doesn't mean your life ends. And just because we are women doesn't mean that every door is barred to us either, one simply has to take a different approach. Besides if we were men, we'd act like those two earlier, either fatherly and overprotective or otherwise a complete and utter manwhore." Levity lacing the words even as she grins. "I don't know. I can't stay here forever, and the older I get, the more pressure they'll put on me to marry off well." Farideh purses her lips, then frowns. "It's not really the same. You even said H'vier got his wingleader pregnant, so he took her job right out from under her. That's a woman's lot. Or, you're born to marry and provide you husband with heirs. There are far too few Lady Holders in their own right, and far too many women married for the wrong reasons. Sometimes I just wish.." But her thought stalls and she picks her head back so she can pull on her gloves, admiring the shape and color. "They really are the thing," she sighs happily. "It isn't like she didn't have options, it was more than just the pregnancy. It just created the opportunity he wanted. At least here it's a little more difficult to end up with an unwanted pregnancy." But she grows quiet as she listens to Farideh, "Sometimes you wish what?" Turning her hands this way and that, Farideh is able to ignore the question for several seconds, but in the end, she'll concede with a ragged sigh. "Sometimes, wish I was born a man, and then I wouldn't have this burden. You can't get pregnant as a man. You can, however, sleep with many women, single, married, before marriage. You can have anything.. everything." She chews on her bottom lip and shrugs, going back to perusing her present. There's the edge of something undiscernible in Edyis's eyes at that, "At least it's better in the Weyr, you have the ability to choose at least. Of course that doesn't mean you won't be judged by your choices to whatever impossible standards people hold. Still, it's your choice, you get to own it and it's consequences. Whatever you decide to do, it can't be forced on you by anyone else. Pregnancy is preventable between the healer's herbs and trips between, and while you may be looked down on for your gender there are plenty of people out there willing to see more in you than just a breeder." Dark brown eyes drift over to her companion now. "If I gained nothing else in coming here, it was the ability to make that choice. It doesn't mean that I don't have to face the consequences. It just means I got to choose them. There is a power in that I wouldn't trade for all the marks in the world." "I guess." Down-in-the-dumps is how she sounds, but she perks up quickly, reaching for Edyis' hand to pull her off the couch and in the direction of the bar. "Let's have a drink. I don't want to think about that anymore. I want to hear all about how you went about testing out those stays," Farideh says happily, and off they both go, to the bar, to drink away their sorrows and chat cheerfully about the bet that was lost. |
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