Logs:Watch Yer Six
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| RL Date: 19 September, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: It's rainy and muddy outside and, for Alida and Telavi, not always happier inside. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 11, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, I'zech/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Muddy, grey, raining... So, all-in-all, another crappy autumn evening at High Reaches. It finds Alida tucked into a small booth nearer the fire in the Snowasis, the blonde not readily seen through the typical throng that populates the place. There's two empty glasses pushed away from her across the tabletop - awaiting pickup from the overworked waitstaff - and the woman sips slowly from her third lowball drink of dark amber and fizzy soda water, her gaze only occasionally looking up from something that rests atop aforementioned table. It's the crowd that has Telavi's attention first, or rather the spaces within it, slipping through them with her own glass; rather than plow through, she pauses, poised, within each for the next to open up, as though she were dancing with different partners at every stage and none have any idea. Next is a particular part of the room, or rather the the part that she's carefully not looking at... too often, anyway, complete with someone who's laughing a little too much; but then, he does seem to be tipsy and has a curly-haired blonde on his knee, so who could blame him? After that, the spaces not for walking but for sitting, and like the first, few and far between-- which lead to the table of a very different blonde, opposite whom Telavi snares a seat, sliding down the bench like she's just passed the finish line. "Hello, Alida." That certain someone with the blonde on his knee is being treated as though he apparently doesn't even exist by Alida, though - as a Guard - she certainly *must* know exactly where he sits, what he's up to, right? It's on one of her rounds of intense self-reflection that the seated, palest blonde overhears Telavi's call of her name, and darkened greens flick up from what might be a sheathed set of knives she casually tosses a burlap wrapping back over up to the greenie. "Make yerself at home..." is mumbled with a hint of dry, scathing humor and faintly bitter darkness. "Thank you," Telavi says, quite as appreciatively as though someone else-- Azaylia, perhaps?-- had invited her for a formal tea. Once she's set down her own glass, really a beer mug even if it doesn't have beer in it, she glances at the empties to see if they look the same as Alida's current selection, then scoots them closer to the outside edge of the table with the back of her hand. Next in the ritual is a tilt of her head and, as she leans forward, a smiling whisper: "Will it burst into smoke if eyes other than yours touch it?" Her nod notes the burlap or, more to the point, what's beneath it. A faint bob of pale head is all Tela gets in answer for her formal appreciativeness, Alida's jaded, neutral features remaining so as her eyes scope out her new tablemate and what she brings to the drinking suaree of two. As for that bundle... "No..." is quickly, perhaps rather harshly scraped off in a vaguely chill tone, the loosely-wrapped bundle shoved roughly over towards the greenrider's side of the table with soft little thuds of shifting leather. Tela's brows bob up, and abruptly she smiles at Alida, hastily taking a swallow of her cider before sliding this glass, too, out of the way... but deeper, this time, not by the empties; borrowing the bundle in exchange, she lifts the burlap as though it were velvet. Three throwing knives, in their sheaths. She turns the nearest one over, then starts to remove it-- only to lift her eyes to Alida, wondering, "This isn't one of the things where 'if you draw it, it has to taste blood' or anything, is it?" The greenrider's smile earns her only another small bob of head, Alida then returning to sipping her drink, then nabbing up some of the pretzels in the basket between them, and crunching down absently upon the salty snack. Tela's inquiry finally draws a dark, wicked little sliver of a smirk-grin from the bluie - the expression not touching her eyes - followed by her quiet alto, "I keep *that* one in my press...fer *special* occasions." At which point Telavi promptly blushes, not in Alida's eyes or no. "Well," she says, one dimple appearing even though she doesn't, otherwise, really smile. "It's a good thing that Solith didn't get into that when we were in the barracks." And in that case, she'll draw the knife fully, seeing just how readily it removes, followed by the knife itself; she turns it over, glancing idly at the mark, only to have her brows go up again. "Is there a particular reason," she wonders, "why you're mulling these over in here?" "I didn' bring it here when I was a weyrling..." Alida helpfully informs Telavi as they both sit, drink, talk, and do not much of anything else, the bluerider again sipping her scotch and soda. "Way too dangerous if it somehow fell inta the wrong hands." Beat. "Still such, but at least I ain't gotta' barracks fulla' kids around, anymore." Shrug. While Tela notes the knives and their marks, the guard is eating more of her pretzel rods, crunching away stoically as her eyes wander the room. The question from her tablemate does bring that cool green gaze back home again, though, something angry and upset seen within them for a microsecond before her more habitual flatness disposes of such once more. "If ya' *must* know...I was deeply considerin' givin' 'em back." Apparently, since the person in question *is* in here, right now. Up and down go Tela's brows. Up and down and up and down, fractionally, but there. "No. Nooo. Poor Quinlys. And I'zech," she thinks to add, even as she runs the flat of the edge against her thumb. And she's being careful, but at the look in Alida's eyes... "Why?" she asks then, very softly. She's not testing any part of the edge now. "Not ta mention Quinlys, I'zech 'n Meara..." Alida agrees dryly, then taking another sip. "Wouln' wanna have had ta' try ta get it back from any uv' 'em. Be a dishonor...probably really ugly, too." Instead of warning Telavi about the honed keenness of those blades, the bluie simply lets Tela play with 'fire' across the ball of her thumb, the former holder'd lips thinning visibly as she stares directly into the other woman's teal gaze for some long moments. As if a decision has been made, the guard finally relaxes her stiff shoulders a little, notes low, "I don' want any reminders uv what *used* ta' be." Those words sound cold, flat, final. "At least Meara retired," Telavi says, as though the elder greenrider had survived some gruesome fate by a fingerwidth. She has a wide-eyed nod for the dishonor. For its being ugly, especially. She stays quiet as Alida looks at her, her hands quiet, all of her quiet. And then she bites her lip, those eyes filling with something too worried to even be bleak. "I'm so sorry," she says. "I don't know what passed between you two. I wish I did." "Only smart one..." Alida notes. "SHould look 'er up when she's down south this Winter." Tela's look for word of dishonor leaves a faint, brittle bit of a smile ghosting its way across Alida's mouth for a moment, her hands then quickly dragging burlap, knives, and all back over towards herself, the things gathered together with a look of mixed pain and much more anger and a hint of betrayal in green eyes, then bound back up securely within the fabric. After she's done, now-hard greens meet the other's teals, and the bluie notes darkly, "Why?" in a strange echo of Tela's former inquiry. Telavi's quick to let go, to let Alida retrieve that last knife, to let her take it back. She busies her own hands with her cider glass once again, though she doesn't immediately drink. "I'd like to think," she starts out saying. "I'd really like to think that things, even hard things, can be fixed. At least, until people are dead," and that was supposed to be funny if the crook of her mouth is any indication, but it's so flat. Alida's own drinking starts again once she's done tying the bundle securely, the throwing knives dumped almost carelessly into the booth beside her, on the inside. Telavi's words draw a wizened, bitter expression from the bluie's lips, features, her head shaking once and harshly. "Face up ta it." Sip...siiigh. "Woulda' been better off..." She can't verbally complete her thought. "Why?" It's not meant to be an echo-- but there it is. And then Tela says, it's just drawn right out of her, "You look so sad." She's about ready to fire right back off at Telavi that she's *not* sad, that she's pissed-off and toughing it out...but something within stays Alida's typical rebuttal - seen as a dull flame just behind her eyes - and drowns it behind another, deeper draught of liquor. After some moments, "Yeah; I'm fuckin' unhappy." She sounds more angry about it right now, but still... "As ya' likely grasped by now, I don't make friends easily 'r often. When I manage ta do it, it's a...an important thing." Her free hand clenches up into a fist upon the tabletop, then thumps upon it...not in an angry fashion, but in something more akin to an oath. Tela doesn't go so far as to try to pat her clutchmate's hand or anything, but her gaze is all for Alida. And then she nods, that slow inclination of her head not so far off a salute. "It doesn't have to be over," she finally says like she believes it, like she just about has to believe it. "In time..." Yes: *no* hand-patting. That could lead to ugliness. As for Tela's next words...the bluerider offers another thin slice of a hard smirk, full of Turns of bitterness beyond her years. "Yer livin' in a dream world, Tela. Sorry ta burst yer bubble." Sip. "People only change if *they* wanna, an' they gotta have really important reasons *to* change, in the first place." Point one, point two delivered. "If ya haven't noticed, neither uv' us is terribly important, in someones' scheme uv things." Her emphasis on that 'someones might go by unnoticed. "Don' look back, don' waste yer time, but watch yer six." Change: Tela drops her chin, but though it's acknowledgement, it's anything but submission; as for that emphasis, it's just enough for her attention to catch, and in the next moment, her eyes to flicker-- she knows something. "Sometimes when it seems like people look like they change, it's... wait. Watch my six? What?" Alida's not a Guard for naught: Tela *knows* something, and the paler-blonde sees it in her actions, her mien. A more focused look precedes her undisguised, "Out with it..." and a small lean in towards the greenrider, the other's inquiry mostly dismissed with a glib, "Really old guard term. Fergot the meanin' behind it. Mean 'watch yer' back.'" Pause. "'R ass." Tela's just started by saying, "You first," even as she leans forward too... only then the bluerider's explanation kicks in and promptly kicks off her blush. "Alida! I'll stick with 'back,' thank you very much." The look on Alida's face might speak volumes as to Telavi's reaction to the word 'ass': scathing. Honestly. But instead of a small lecture, the bluie awards her tablemate only a long-suffering eyeroll and twist of lips before she mutters, "So, is this some kinda' formal information exchange, then? What sorta' info you lookin' for, exactly?" Lucky, lucky Telavi. Except for the part where her eyes have widened now with a touch of distress. "I don't know. Information that would help fix things?" She can't help but glance back to a certain part of the room, and so of course it would have to be right around then that someone feels the need to not only leave with the curly-haired girl but look back at her while he does, and with what's likely supposed to be a warning glance at that. Even if it doesn't quite come out that way. She bites her lip and looks back to Alida, quickly. ALida remains silent the whole time Telavi's searching for answers to offer the picky guard, and when the greenrider's gaze flicks to that certain leaving someone's, so does alert Alida's - with a dark narrow of eyes, to be sure - her own greens returning back to her tablemate's at the same time. Flatly: "Are you workin' fer him?" It's not accusatory, but more suspicious. She didn't like that lip bite. Telavi didn't either, if probably for different reasons. Now, though, she doesn't even think to try to hide her surprise; "What? Work... no! Why would-- no. It's not that sort of thing. Whatever that thing is." Though right now, she really should use the past tense. She's like a bloodhoud sniffing for the faintest 'scent' of wrongness about Telavi's reply: Alida watching her like an avian, listening with keen ears, observing with trained gaze. After some moments, "Okay." Dander back down. As for information to fix things... "Ya can't 'fix' the bond between dragon 'n rider. Ain't it fuckin' obvious ta ya? The time frame that 'e changed over?" Think about it, Tela. "I can't, not between them, but it's not like-- Solith and me, we're better than we were, Alida, I know that much." Only this time Telavi's blush is more of a patchy one, a different sort of discomfiture, something not nearly far away enough from shame. "I just have to keep trying with her. That's all." Something else, anything else. "Which frame were you thinking of?" She's trying to think, she is. Another piece of admission from Tela adds to the growing puzzle that is her (and Solith), and ALida files it away in her mental rolodex for later perusal, along with the greenie's discomfiture, her reactions, words. But right now, there's other fish to fry. "Overall, from our Candidacy ta' the present...especially post-Impression." A pretzel stick is lifted, and tapped firmly atop the table between them, to the guard's stark frown. "I know ya weren't around fer Candidacy...butcha' knew how 'e was from then on." Pause, stare. "We all change some, yeah. But...*that* much?" Tela's not so distracted that she can't give Alida a sharp look before she begins speaking. But, "No. No, I wasn't." More quietly, even as she only half-thinkingly reaches toward another of the bluerider's sticks, "You know what they say; we all change, even in ways we don't realize. Maybe especially those. Sometimes maybe it's new, sometimes... well, maybe sometimes it was there all along." Again, the look of frustrated ire on Alida's features speaks volumes: she expected to be naysaid. The pretzel stick is tossed to the table top as she sits up again, fingering the bundle to her side. "Believe whatcha' want ta'." Grumble. "It just..." Mutter. And here, green eyes flick from the space they were staring into over to Tela's gaze. "It just *feels wrong*." And to the rather visceral woman... *this* just is not right. "Now *yer* part..." is chimed in, since she offered her words on something she'd really rather not speak of at all. "It doesn't feel right," Telavi agrees, she who had spoken of something she'd liked just as little, and she looks right back at Alida as though they could both find all the answers there. It lasts a long moment, and then she shakes her head, just slightly. "The question is, how to help him cope, to deal with what's going on." At least, that's her part, her question; Alida's... may vary. What? She *gets* having those intuitive feelings? Alida's a bit surprised out of at least a little of her anger at Telavi's agreement...and then the greenie's speaking her next words. Instantly, the bluerider's lips thin, and her aspect shifts to something darker, more implacable. Low, intense: "That's not *my* job description. *I* don't offer my hand again ta' people that smile 'n stab me in the belly in the same action." Slamming back the last of her drink, the now pissed-off woman grabs up her knife-y bundle, and scoots out from her part of the booth, preparing to stand. Telavi doesn't even try to stop her, might not even if shock weren't quite so clear on her features. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Alida. I wish it weren't so." It's all she can say, but she'll watch Alida go where she hadn't someone... well, anyone else. |
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