Logs:Whose Line Is It Anyway?
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| RL Date: 27 June, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, D'kan, K'zin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlings are stuck. Things get awkward, then less so. For now. |
| Where: Secluded Cove, Southern Continent |
| When: Day 7, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Storming away |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: We tried limiting ourselves to poses just one screenwidth in length, though of course our screens have different widths. |
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"And smelly," Telavi contributes. Alida says, "At least it's warm." K'zin's sigh turns into a frown as he moves toward the fire. Telavi huddles under her blanket, tugging it up over her shoulders. Alida continues to frown softly as she tends the fire. "Can we go home now?" K'zin asks as he flops down beside Telavi. Making room, Tela murmurs, "We wouldn't have to get far off the ground." Alida says, "There's wood in 'ere. I got some nails. Build a friggin' palatte." Grump. "For what?" K'zin's head tilts as a hand reaches for Tela's blanket. "For..." Tela stops, then just huddles some more, heedless of hoarding hands. "She wants off the ground," Alida replies, jerking her thumb backwards at Tela. K'zin exchanges a look with Telavi, hand stilling. "I'm-- confused?" Tela looks confused. Then, "Oh! Off, for betweening." Home. "More like fuckin' daft." Cue an Alida 'eyeroll'. "A pallate lifts ya off the ground." K'zin's helpless eyes slide between Telavi and Alida. "Still confused." "But..." Telavi tries, "Dragons between off the ground, not pallets." "Wet." Alida points to Waki. "Ground." A point down. "BUILD. A. PALLATE." K'zin looks between the two women, and gets up. Shaking his head as he exits. Into the rain. Telavi glances after him, then up to Alida. "I... don't think he liked that." "What's there ta like?" It's sour, testy, grumpy witness from the bluie. Tela's not above taking some of that abandoned space back. "Exactly." Moving to cave-back for a driftwood log, Alida drags it back near the fire, sits down upon it. "That's not a pallet," Telavi points out. "You want one, then build it," the blonde spits out. *She's* just tired of crouching. "I never wanted to build one," Telavi points out that too. Alida points out of the cave, then grumbles, "He complained about bein' wet." "So he went out into the rain to get wetter." Telavi's, yes, smiling. Crazy makes people do weird things. "Apparently," Alida needlessly announces. "While I just want to go home and don't see why we can't." Tela. Glare. "Cause it's an exercise, not just a vacation," Alida growls at Tela. Telavi, dubious. "I bet Quinlys doesn't want to put up with us either." "Then the feelin's fuckin' mutual," Alida gripes. They can all go to hell. "So all we have to do," Tela reasons, "is get on, get off the ground, go." Alida: "That huge STORM ragin' out there'll take over a day ta clear off! Are ya daft?!" Telavi, brightly: "Did you know your eyes sparkle when you're pissed?" Alida, too sweetly: "D'ya know my fist aches ta beat ya' when yer like that?" Telavi, demurely: "Oh, Alida. Aching for a girl like me? How sweet." A creature of impulse, Alida turns about, grabs Tela by the shirt, and jerks her into her face for a rough, urgent kiss. Telavi'd been sitting innocently. Now? Biting at Alida's lower lip. Shut Tela up; blow off Alida's steam and sudden ardor: the kiss becomes... something else, the bluie jerking her face away quickly, gargling in pain. Clunk. Bucket hits ground. Water splashes. K'zin, open-mouthed. And so Tela yanks at Alida. "Sit. Or do you like putting on a show?" In some pain, humiliated, angry as hell, Alida avoids Tela's hands as she jerks to her feet, storming past Waki out into... the storm. Shit. Gape to grimace, K'zin gives Telavi a look: seriously? Pulling herself together, staring after Alida, Tela spots K'zin. "What?" After some moments for getting things clear: « She's comin' ta me, so leave 'er alone. » from Ilicaeth to Rasavyth...darkly. Disgruntled, "Nothing." Then he does it. K'zin rolls his eyes. Solith, huddled, damp, unhappy, still: « No drowning. » (To Ilicaeth from Solith) Grit and ooze, « He wants to hug her. » (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth) Controlled, ocher dust-devil: « Stay away. » Stupid humans. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth) Controlled, yet still fuming, deep concern; he knows this has nothing to do with Solith: « She is with me. » (To Solith from Ilicaeth) Which gets a disbelieving look from Tela. "Why are you even..." She gets up. « Good. We want her safe. » (To Ilicaeth from Solith) Static. He's busy. (To Solith from Ilicaeth) Consideration. Apology. « He won't. She is his friend. » (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth) "She's my friend." As if that explains. What does that make Tela to K'zin? Tela pales, hit. Tightly, "Who just macked on me without warning." "Sorry. My fault." However that works. K'zin turns to follow Alida. Not helping. Unable to throw the driftwood, Tela stalks over to sit on it. He goes. Toward Ilicaeth. Rasavyth follows K'zin; dragonly back-up, in case. Beneath partial tree canopy: Ilicaeth and Alida, the blue's wing extended over her unseeable form...his eyes lavender. K'zin and Rasavyth stop nearby. Both sit, wait, and get drenched. Lavender eyes trained upon them; dessicated, dark baritone sand: « Gonna be a looong time. Get 'im under yer wing, stupid. » It is a long time, relatively, before Rasavyth extends a wing. They wait. Eventually a couple other weyrlings show up from beyond a twist in the cave, settling before the fire. One looks around, because weren't others here before? By then Tela can smile, dropping into chatter. Never mind red eyes, pink nose. D'kan makes an appearance from the back of the cave, in... slightly less soaking wet clothing that he may attempt to wear dry as he takes up a station next to the fire, dark eyes peering into the storm. More chatter, nothing too important, beer in there somewhere. Tela looks over. There is no more water to be wrung from the clothing. D'kan gives the others a look. "Anything stronger than beer?" "When we get back." Tela, with a shiver, a glance out to the storm. The other two slide back to the deeper cave: in search of a stash? "Fair enough." D'kan is quiet, introspective, or just plain cold. Gaze falls to that blanket. "Care to share?" A downward glance, then, "Why not." Tela's eyes are still red. She makes room. The damp is likely not a pleasant addition, but the warmth would be, and D'kan is quite warm. "Any news?" Wanting the blanket. Warm. Tela, dubious, yet not arguing. "None you want." Damp fades when warmth overtakes. D'kan, curious, "Such as?" Warm. Telavi's leaning, not leaving. "Messy." Whispered, "Alida ran off." Perplexed, D'kan looks from Telavi to Outside. "Into that? Why?" Direct. Tela squishes down into the blanket. "She sort of kissed me?" It was that bad? Perplexed turns to bewildered. "She did?" D'kan questions, then, "What's 'sort of'?" "'Sort of.'" Tela peeks at him out of one eye. "Because... it's awkward?" That gives D'kan pause as he frowns at the gloom. "Aren't all kisses awkward?" Maybe for him. One eye, two eyes, wide eyes at D'kan. "No." Tela states this like a fact. D'kan's eyes meet Telavi's, his own confused. "No? But... she ran. Where's K'zin?" "No. Promis..." She winces, extra pale now. "Took out after her." The wince is just more confusing. D'kan shakes his head, looks out again, huddling. She huddles too, Later, her voice small, "Because I bit her. To stop." He doesn't mean to laugh, but can't stop. Maybe it's the cold. "Shells, Tela." Injured, defensive, "Well, what would you have done?" D'kan's chipmunk cheeks get rounder as he grins. "Was it out of the blue or something?" "Yes." Tela, still muttery. "We were arguing... Don't sound so happy about it." "Not happy, just impressed," D'kan counters. "Guess she's not into bites?" "It wasn't that kind of bite." Still muttery. "There's a difference." "Guess I wouldn't know," D'kan informs her, still grinning. "Do you usually bite?" He gets a narrow look for it. "If I did, it would be better than awkward." "Good point," he allows, then shoulder nudges, easy under the blanket. "You okay?" "Yes," she begins, starting to nudge back. "...No. But I have to be, don't I." He turns back to her, direct again. "You don't have to be. Not by force." "By surprise," Tela's quick to say. "I mean, she... but she didn't..." "You weren't... prepared?" D'kan ventures, fishing for an answer. "Well, we were arguing," so yes, but, "Surprises are fun too. I think." D'kan stares at the fire for guidance. Nods. "Sometimes." Skeptic. "Sometimes." Tela can agree there, leaning her head to his shoulder, too. Sigh. Silence reigns, aside from the crackle of the fire. Blankets are warm. The end. It comes after about an hour, Ilicaeth still terse, though not angry: « She sends apologies to yours. » Not 'Telavi.' (To Solith from Ilicaeth) The answer comes delayed, Solith's tone waterlogged. « She should tell her. » (To Ilicaeth from Solith) |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 28 Jun 2013 06:14:19 GMT.
< In the spirit of a one-line scene:
Weyrlings are strange, even when contained into one line. Still, it was entertaining.
Aishani (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 28 Jun 2013 18:35:02 GMT.
<
This looks like all my ancient old timey logs. :D And DRAMA!!!!!!
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