Logs:Unstable Teenage Girls
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 2 April, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis happens upon a broody Lya and her sock-y friend. There's talk and sock-abuse. |
| Where: Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated! |
   |
| A person could live in High Reaches all her life and still not find the end of every tunnel. It's a tunnel that winds toward the infirmary that's fallen into relative disuse as there are faster ways and better tended. The glows here are dim from lack of changing and completely dark in some places. It's at the edge of the golden glow light of one of the dim baskets that Lya sits with knees drawn up and a sock with yarn for hair draped over the space her long skirt creates between her knees. The young woman's fingers pull in opposite directions at the yarn hair, staring at the button eyes as if there might be something there to be found in the lifeless textile face. There is a bloom of bright light highlighting the shadows and playing on the colors in her patchwork skirts; it emits from one of the buckets Edyis carries. Fresh glows for the baskets lining the tunnel. She hums as she works, a soft lilting melody. So focused is she on the task at hand that it isn't until she's looking at the basket nearby that she spots the girl sitting with the sock, and if she recognizes Lya it certainly doesn't register on her features. "Oh. Sorry I didn't think anyone would be down this way." She says straining to reach the depleted basket and tipping it into the empty bucket. "I will be out of your way in just a few moments." "It's fine," Lya answers, her voice lacking luster. She doesn't look up to take note of just who is speaking to her, but instead turns her knees to the side so she's taking up less space in the tunnel. "I picked it because no one really comes down this way." She sighs. Maybe it would be weird to anyone else that this is asked of the woman she hasn't even looked at, "Do you ever wish that you could just... blink and have everything be perfect? That whatever you did that was dumb would be undone and forgotten?" She tugs the yarn of the puppets hair again with mild agitation showing only in the movement of those fingers. Her expression is a little lost, a little forlorn, but at least there's no trace of tears. "That is a difficult question to answer..." She answers softly, reaching into the bucket to tumble a hand full of glows into the newly emptied basket. "I think... everyone has something like that. Something they wish was undone." Dark brows draw together faintly, "But, if it was undone, I wouldn't have learned anything from it. I wouldn't have grown." Edyis chuckles darkly, "Not that there isn't something to be said for forgetting other peoples mistakes and letting them save face." Still, Lya doesn't look at the brunette, only at the puppet. "My best-friend thinks I told all her secrets and she hates me now. She can't even be happy for me for getting the best job I ever had. Better than I even thought I ever could have." She sighs unhappily. "I don't feel like I'm learning anything." Does it ever when the lesson is barely begun? "Did you?" It's soft, and lacks any edge of an accusation. The next dying basket tipped into the rapidly filling bucket. She seems prepared to say more, but instead falls into silence in favor of listening to the girl filling the emptied basket with fresh glows. "And if you did, or might have done so unintentionally, I think the more important question would be why?" The once-scribe answers glancing back at the girl with the doll (or sock) in her lap. She refills the next basket continuing her work, and returning her attention to it. "No," is glum and without any hint of reticence or untruth. "She just thinks I did. She's convinced of it. So maybe the better more important question is why would she think I would." Lya seems to consider this with the sock's help. It's not so much a doll, lacking in anything more than a face and a a long straight body. "I hate it when people make bad assumptions. It's so hard to convince them otherwise." She sighs finally looking up. It would, of course, be Edyis there, changing glows when she does. There are a lot of ways she could react given what she's just said, but instead she sighs a second time, this time heavier, perhaps a smidge more exasperated. "It may not have been something she stated was a secret. Something she might have mistakenly expected you to understand?" Again it lacks the sting of accusation, or any indication that the scribe doubts what the girl has said. If she recognizes the Lya, it doesn't show in Edyis's expression, nor does anything in her demeanor change. Continuing the process of emptying and refilling glow baskets. "Everything comes down to perception, in the end. In any given situation, the only thing you can control is you. I know I don't always do a very good job of stepping outside what I know to try to understand other people. That's part of being human, you just have to look at it and realize that humans are inherently imperfect." "No." Lya says it with conviction. "I'm certain that she didn't expect me to understand that her name is a secret, given that she wanders about introducing herself with it," the blonde sounds annoyed, although judging by the way that she glares at the sock, it's probably her friend that she's annoyed with, not Edyis, just now. "Well, Farideh is an idiot. An imperfect idiot. And she should just sharding well hurry up and forgive me because nothing happened anyway." Her lower lip juts out in a stubborn not-quite-but-very-nearly-a-pout. The sock gets thrown and Lya's up and after it in the next heartbeat to stomp on it thoroughly. She may have some anger of her own to work through, but the stomping seems to help. Her eyebrows draw together faintly at the name, but it's the puppet stomping temper tantrum that might clue in the faintest hint of recognition in Edyis's eyes masked by looking down into the bucket and fetching more glows. No she isn't all alone in a dark tunnel with a crazy person who seems to know Farideh and causes trouble... The next basket gets emptied quicker. "Couldn't speak to that." Is her only answer. "But, if it were me in your shoes." Those stompy, stompy shoes. "I would take the time to really try to think of it from other perspectives. Most stable people don't go off for no reason at all." Those glows get tumbled into the basket. Is Farideh stable, is Lya? Whatever the scribe's judgments are they are kept firmly to herself. "Ha!" Lya barks, crouching to scoop up the sock and then look around her feet for the missing eye. "We're teenage girls," she points out, "bound to be unstable at some point." She squints at the floor, "Could you bring your glow bucket over here for a minute? He lost an eye." The puppet. At least she sounds remorseful about it now. The former scribe seems incredulous of the statement. Then again, until recently, she hasn't been much known for spending time with girls her own age. "Sure." She hosts the newly filled basket over, instead of the bucket since the basket has more light. "You might want to find someone to teach you to work the bags in the workout room. It's just as satisfying, and nothing breaks." She offers helpfully, or perhaps not so helpfully. "Unless you hit the bag wrong, then you break." "Nah. I've got plenty of these," Lya wags the poor sock. "And less chance of breaking anything more than a button." The most violent Lya will ever manage to effectively be is shoves and slaps, woe. "Thanks," is not grudging but probably actually meant, for the assistance with the basket as she hunts around for the teal thing. Thankfully, it stands out against the stone and therefore shouldn't (shouldn't) take too long (but who knows how far it skittered down the tunnel~). "So you're a candidate now?" is possibly just something to talk about while she looks, but it sounds conversational enough as she says it. "You seem to have found a new job," The once-scribe returns without inflection. It might be an invitation to talk, or merely an observation. Given that her expression is placid it might be difficult to tell. Hoisting the glow basket higher to scatter the light over more ground as dark eyes scan for the button in question. "Nothing particularly unusual about being a candidate. I've stood before." She continues. "It found me," is simple and sounds true, but if there was an invitation to say more, Lya either missed it or declined it. "It is unusual to be a candidate," the blonde reasons, "especially this clutch. Haven't you noticed how few of you there are this time?" She sucks in a breath as she hunts the floor. There's something about the tension in the hunch of her shoulders as she hunts that suggests it worries her. "That is what happens when politics get involved, when people become afraid of leaving behind what they know and what is comfortable. Part of the clutch is promised to Igen, I imagine people have chosen not to search actively, or decided not to stand." She shrugs as though this is a natural response. "Could you do it? Leave behind whatever friends and or family you have and go to a foreign place with only a small group of people who are familiar to you?" She shrugs, "It isn't an easy thing to do." "I would do it." Lya says with a careless shrug of her own. "My parents are dead and the only friends I have are ones that I shouldn't have or have dragons of their own and could visit or are mad at me." She leans toward the edge of the glowlight to pluck-- a pebble off the floor. Well, it looked like a button with the way the shadows were cast. She tosses the tiny thing aside as she adds, "I'd want to go with Weyrwoman Irianke. Sometimes all you need for it to feel like home is one person. Or a dragon. That's what she says. Home is where Niahvth is." A pause, "It's not like she's really asking anyone to do something she hasn't done herself." Except for the staying forever part. "And it's not even really her asking. It's all Weyrwoman Azaylia and Weyrwoman Nimae." She makes an annoyed expression briefly. "What about you? You're Standing. Are you just hoping to Impress something they don't need? Or are you thinking about volunteering to go?" It is a different sort of scrutiny that Lya falls under under that admission. The edges of her mouth curl upward faintly. "We may have that much in common." The parents gone, with friends of questionable natures. Though Edyis doesn't seem too interested in drawing similarities. "I imagine she still gets the brunt of the anger over it." Bending to pick up what turns out to be a coin, pocketing it after a moment of scrutiny. A coin is not a button after all. "I don't expect to impress at all, I am standing merely to satisfy my curiosity on that point. If I did impress, it would likely be one of the colors they are looking to have go to Igen, I wouldn't mind going to Igen, for a little while, though not forever. Who knows what I might learn there." Lya turns her head a moment to glance briefly up at Edyis but makes no comment about their commonalities. There's a shrug and a sigh that tells well enough that there's more she knows and is not telling of Irianke and any anger or otherwise that might be directed at the goldrider. "I'm not sure Weyrwoman Nimae is looking for 'for a little while' riders. There's a fair enough chance you'll Impress something they don't need, I'd expect. They're not wanting all the colors after all." The blonde's quietly triumphant 'ah-ha!' is the finding of the button, until she realizes, "Blast. It's broken." She's up in a trice and moving to head off down the tunnel with a, "Thanks for your help," that sounds genuine enough for the light-rendering assistance Edyis offered. Moping time is abruptly at an end, and apparently Lya's willingness to chit chat with it. |
Leave A Comment