Logs:Winter Wine Brawl
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| RL Date: 6 June, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Itsy |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Itsy get into a fight. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Laine/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. So much language. |
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| All of that bad wind and snow has stopped by early evening, leaving the weyrbowl full of white dunes that sparkle in the fading sunlight. It's a fantastic view from the garden patio, if one is looking out over the ledge instead of having their nose stuck in a thick pile of hides. Farideh's seated at one of the table by herself, with various papers and drawings spread out on the table; it's a colorful bunch and doesn't look like the typical hidework she usually studies. She chews on the fingernail of her thumb, her eyes flicking back and forth between two of the hides, her full wine glass as yet untouched. A few others occupy the ledge, but it's mostly vacant, and with the dinner hour approaching, a great respite for someone who wants to be left to their own whims. Itsy's oversized coat goes a long way to hiding her physical form, but there's not much that can make her blend in given the hat, and the hair that cascades out from underneath it. Also? The stomping, which probably makes her approach more obvious-- and audible-- than it should otherwise be. She's seen Farideh, that much is certain, but given the way she aims her steps for the Snowasis itself, it may be she's avoiding the other girl, too. Or she's just that much in need of a drink. The stomping is definitely a giveaway, but so is the low whistle from one of the riders hanging out near Snowasis' opening. It's enough to bring Farideh's eyes up from her work, to search the vicinity and then falling on the redheaded sailor. "Itsy?" she calls, neutrally; there isn't any censure in her tone but neither is there bubbling happiness, as she leans back against her chair, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes stay on the other girl, regardless of her response, studying. One of Itsy's fingers-- no, two of them, but one on each hand-- are extended towards the whistling rider, along with a blandly aggressive baring of her teeth. Of course, the whole image is rather ruined by Farideh, and so it is with a scowl that the sailor swings around on her heel, managing not to slide on the icy stone, to eye the goldrider. "What?" she demands, defiant. "Can I have a word?" Farideh asks, simply, her eyebrows drifting upwards. "No," is a word, isn't it? But there's Itsy anyway, standing there with her shoulders visibly tense, even through her coat, and her eyes storm-dark. She hasn't moved away, at least, but now some of those other riders are even more definitely paying attention. It's quiet following the verbal rejection, with Farideh staring across the ledge at Itsy, but then a slow smile curves her lips. "Please?" Itsy is plainly not much amused by that smile, but she gives in with a sigh, all-but throwing herself into one of the chairs at Farideh's table, then reaching forward to claim the goldrider's wine: plunder. "What?" she says, right before she drains the entire glass in a single gulp. "What," Farideh begins, watching Itsy drain her glass, "is the matter? You seem-- annoyed. With me, even, and I can't remember what I did to make you suddenly dislike me, or did all that time at sea give you time to reconsider your feelings?" "Seems like you're the one who changed your feelings," replies Itsy, making no attempt to keep her voice down. The empty glass is set back on the table with a thump. "Or maybe just changed. Drex is too crazy over your snatch to care, but I can see how it is. We came back, and you didn't want us. We came back for you. You just using him? Little rich girl, using the dirty sailor to make herself feel dangerous?" Anger enters her expression, in the tightening of her lips and clenching of her jaw; her eyes briefly flick to the riders by the entrance. "You don't even know what you're talking about. I never said I didn't want either of you, but it's different now." She doesn't deign to explain herself just yet, but when the waitress pauses in the entrance to Snowasis, she holds up two fingers to signify two glasses. "I'm not using anyone," Farideh says, levelly, her eyes settling back on Itsy. "Aren't you?" Itsy lays that challenge out, chin lifted and mouth tight. "You think you're better than him. Than us. More important. You think we have to change in order to fit into your world; we have to be someone else because you're ashamed of us. We ain't got nothing to be ashamed of. My ma might've been a whore, but at least she was an honest one. You'll whore for this place, and pretend you don't. Drex..." She breaks off. "You don't know anything Itsy." Farideh's voice is controlled, but her anger still simmers underneath the surface, restrained by force of will; after all, it wouldn't do to make a huge scene in front of those watching riders. "I never asked you to change. I never asked him to change. You can captain as many of those forsaken ships as you want and sail until you're old and haggard. I don't care," she says, waving her hand in the air, dismissing those concerns. "I asked him to stay. With me. Here. You could have stayed too." It's the latter half that loosens her restraint, her mouth curling into an unkind smile, her eyes devoid of their usual warmth and brightness. "Fuck you, Itsy, and that ship you sailed in on." "You asked him to stay. If that ain't wanting him to change, I don't know what is. Just know: you convince him to stay, you lose him. Because he won't be Drex anymore. The sea's part of him. He was born to it. It's all his." Itsy stands, now, shoving her chair out of the way behind her. "Fuck you for trying to do that to him. You know fucking nothing." Scowling, fists balled, she turns to go. A petty scoff serves as Farideh's answer. "You seem completely sure about what he wants and what's good for him. How do you know the sea is the only thing he would take to? How do you know he wouldn't thrive here? Or anywhere else that wasn't the sea? He could be anything, but you appear to think he's only made for what you want." She goes quiet, pushing her own chair back, to stand, and glare at Itsy's back. "But that's the problem isn't it? That maybe he wants something different. Something that isn't what you want. Something that doesn't involve you." And here comes the waitress, bearing the two glasses of wine, looking hesitant, as she glances between the two women. "So you are trying to change him." Itsy's voice is low and dangerous, now, as she swings back around to face the goldrider, grabbing both glasses of wine from the waitress as she does so: so there. "He chose the sea. He could've--" She stops. "He chose it. And now you want him to choose you, instead. Be your, what, sex toy? Hanging around in your weyr all the time instead of being useful? You want to furl his sails, break him." Instead of drinking the wine, she hurls it at Farideh, holding on to the stems of the glasses as the contents flings itself through the air towards her. "He's not your pet." "Did he? Choose the sea? Or did you choose it for him? Because it seems to me that he's awfully happy when he's here, too," Farideh shoots back, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. She only has a moment to look surprised before she gets a face full of wine; the palms of her hands that she put up to defend against the onslaught all but useless. Even the waitress gasps in shock, the riders going eerily quiet as all eyes turn onto the pair. "You," she hisses, wiping the excess wine out of her eyes with her fingers, "bitch." Promptly, she grabs the remaining, empty glass on the table, and throws it at Itsy, her shriek of rage filling the area before shattering glass as it misses its mark. "Go back to your fucking ship." That wine glass goes flying before Itsy has a chance to reply to Farideh; she stands tall, unmoving, as it sails past and shatters. "Why should I? Can go where I like, do what I like. So can Drex. I gave him that freedom; and you want to take it away." She smashes one of the glasses in her hand against the table, holding the jagged edges up defensively, though at least she doesn't actually advance on the goldrider (which would be bad). "You're only a goldrider. He's ten times what you are." Where is the cavalry? Everyone is just standing around not moving, and when Itsy breaks the glass, so does Farideh, staring at the jagged edges on the bottle. "You're crazy," she screams, her hands balling into fists, her eyes flicking up to Itsy, fear evident in her pale face. "What do you want from me, you psycho? You want me to stop seeing him? Stop caring?" Her voice, at best, is shrill, with a hint of a tremor. "I want you to stop fucking trying to make him someone he's not. He's Drex. He's not anyone else. He's not... he's a sailor, and he doesn't belong to anyone." Itsy is not helping her cause, really, given the way she's waving that broken glass around, face red with anger. "Stay the fuck away from me. And Drex. And Laine. You don't get to decide what's best for any of us, so fuck off." The glass, finally, is thrown to the table where it shatters further, shards flying. Itsy doesn't seem to care; this time, she's actually leaving. Maybe. It's obviously not going to be surprising when Farideh makes an outraged sound at Itsy's demands, her arms locking at her sides. "Laine is my friend, you crazy--" The rest is drowned out by another angry scream. "Fuck you! Fuck him! Fuck your ship! Fuck Devaki too!" She sweeps her hidework up into her arms, frantically -- she can't let Itsy have the only dramatic exit. "You can all rot or freeze or drown for all I care," is her parting shot. And off they storm, in different directions. "FUCKING CRAZY WHORE BITCH SLUT," is the parting shot Itsy offers. Whiskey is now PLAINLY in order. |
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Comments
Edyis (22:33, 6 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
Well. Clearly the swear jar is now full. I loved reading this.
Alida (01:33, 7 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
WOO! Spewage is spewed! Spleen is spouted! :D
Faryn (14:05, 14 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
Beautiful, artful use of expletives. 9\10 because Farideh didn't quite stick her parting shot, but an extra .5 earned by Itsy. The judges are impressed.
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