Logs:Two Girls, Two Cups of Klah and One Bargain
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| RL Date: 24 August, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two teen girls meet. For once, it actually goes well for both of them. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
One of the few perks of having had a broken arm is that Lya didn't have to work. Though now, she approaches the nighthearth castless and in a dirty cream colored apron, so those days are over. Woe. Beneath the apron are typically mismatched clothes with patches, all playing havoc with what Fashion Intended of the garments. In her hands is a deep tray meant to be swapped out for the one here to collect the klah mugs and plates from the refreshments offered here. Only, since it's just that one cook... she doesn't make it past setting the tray down. Why hurry? Brown brows lift with some concern as Farideh witnesses Lycinea's arrival into the nighthearth. She takes one sweeping look at the other woman and mutters, "They're making drudges work nights now? That's.. something." Not that she expects a proper response, really; it's a drudge after all. Her eyes quickly avert, flitting back to the fire as she lifts her mug and takes a sip. Since it's quiet, that mutter carries. Lycinea stops with a hand halfway to the klah pot, to turn her head and give Farideh a look that echoes her single word question, "Seriously?" Then an eyeroll as she looks back to finish reaching for the pot. "Drudges often work nights. It's not like the jobs no one with sense wants to do stop just because the sun goes down. Are you sure you're not meant to be put on rotation with them?" She casts a challenging look back over her shoulder at the dark-haired girl. Bring it, biotch. That Lycinea even responds surprises Farideh. "Oh," she says, her mouth forming an 'o' and staying that way through the other girl's tirade. Her lips come together in a haughty purse, eyes raking over the blonde aide another time. "You might try to dress less like you raided the garage bin, then." One eyebrow lifts, matching challenging look for challenging look, though she's still calmly curled up in the chair. Nothing like a little bitchy competition. Lycinea snorts, "I'll see what I can do the next time I have my stores privileges restored," which might be never if her attitude is any indication of why they got revoked to begin with. "You don't have to be a drudge to not have enough marks to make an outfit." Now that she has her klah, she moves to join her at the table. "What are you even doing here this late, Judgy-Pants?" Because maturity is one of Lya's strong suits. "I think if you were nicer about it," Farideh says false-pleasantly, "someone might be kind enough to get you something from the stores." She lifts and drops her eyebrows in a meaningful way, then takes a hasty swallow of tea. Her countenance isn't hostile, perhaps wary, as the other girl seats herself across the table. "I couldn't sleep. I thought that's what this whole setup was for," as she gestures to encompasses the cavern. The way Lycinea looks at Farideh says that niceness is overrated. That doesn't stop her from saying, "Maybe if I had a friend who was a girl and willing to give up her own clothing rations. But that doesn't seem terribly likely. Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but I'm delightful." When she then asks, "Oh, is that what this place is for?" It's with obviously feigned ignorance. "Why can't you sleep?" Tolerance in abundance, that's what Farideh has. "What is it that you 'need'?" she says, pronouncing each word clearly. "I have some clothes I can't wear anymore. I can lend you them. You evidently need them." One more dropped scrutiny, to that patched skirt, and she pastes an agreeable smile on her face. Lycinea being delightful or not is none of 'her' business, so she brushes past that topic onto the next. "All of the world's problems on my shoulders, that kind of thing. And my neighbor makes noises that would rival the Weyr's livestock." "You don't want to do that," Lycinea advises with apparent honesty, "These didn't start patched." And oh how many patches there are now. This girl is surely hard on her clothes. "Though it's sort of kind of you to offer. I haven't even had a chance to charm you yet. What's your name?" She's looking at Farideh thoughtfully now. "You're in the resident dorms?" She asks, blowing lightly on her klah. "Yeah, I probably don't," Farideh agrees with a couple small nods. Her smile is half-hearted, her mug lifting in lieu of a handshake. "I'm Farideh, and yes, I live in the dorms, next to the most obnoxious person in the Weyr." She sighs into her tea, cuddling back into her chair with a wistful look towards the hearth. "Too bad you didn't bring any cookies." Hint, hint? The blonde looks toward the hearth and then back to Farideh. "You didn't mention your legs were broken." She summons up a sympathetic look for the brunette. Perhaps it follows that she answers, "No, I'm quite sure my cot isn't near yours or we'd have exchanged barbs before," to Farideh's position in the dorms, feigning thoughtfulness. Then she grins. "I'm Lycinea." And quickly, "Oh, but don't call me that. Lya's much better, don't you think?" "Because they aren't, dear," Farideh says with a large, toothy grin and lots of edge in her voice. It's followed by an intent stare and silence; she's listening attentively. "Lya is a nice name." She may or may not mean that sincerely. It's hard to tell when her face is so guarded. "Much better than Lycinea." "Shocking." Lycinea answers deadpan. Then she nods in agreement, apparently taking Farideh at her word. "When did you move here?" She glances down at her clothes then, "Do you know about clothes?" More shocking is the fact that Farideh being anything other than rude. "It's been about a month now. I haven't been counting." She says it like she's bothered by the fact, as if being 'here' isn't as 'easy' as she acts like it is. "Of course I know about clothes. What are you curious about? How to wear them?" she asks sweetly - too sweetly. "How to take them off," Lya returns sweetness for sweetness. Enough to give either of them cavities. Who knew she could even fake that? "Colors. And stuff." She then says more truthfully, fidgeting in her seat. "Do you like it here? I know about here. I've been here since I was six when my parents died." Totally true! ... "You could tell me about clothes and I could tell you about here," she proposes an exchange. Farideh is apprehensive as she looks at Lycinea, sizing the other women up with her alert hazel eyes. "We could," she says, in an undecided sort of way. "Could you tell me about the 'people' here?" That's a specific request, spoken without looking at the blonde. She's focused on her tea, taking a long drink, and when she surfaces from the steamy mug, she smiles. "I could get you started with basic color concept." "Probably. I hear a lot of things. The kitchens is teaming with gossip." Lycinea relates as to a confidant. "That's what I do. Work in the kitchens, since I'm no good at anything else." There's a brief pause in which it looks like she might say something else, but then doesn't. "Who do you want to know about?" The latter idea is probably acceptable terms as she doesn't seek to negotiate... Yet. A playful look crosses her face, and Farideh leans forward with her elbows on the table, like she's about to impart some scandalous news. "I'll let you know," she says in a staged whisper, offering a sunny smile, and then she's standing and setting her mug on the table. "Let's do this again, hm, Lya?" Her smile tugs upwards, laughter shining in her eyes, just before she exits with unhurried strides. Guess Lycinea will have to pick up those cups after all. |
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