Logs:Bitter Tears - Revision history

Faryn at 08:48, 14 October 2015

2015-10-14T08:48:29Z

Faryn at 09:29, 12 October 2015

2015-10-12T09:29:45Z

Faryn at 22:28, 11 October 2015

2015-10-11T22:28:07Z

Faryn at 21:14, 11 October 2015

2015-10-11T21:14:31Z

Faryn: Created page with "{{Log |who=Faryn |what=After R'hin's murder, Faryn stays in Crom a few extra hours. |where=Crom Hold |involves=High Reaches Weyr, Crom Hold |day=18 |mon..."

2015-10-11T20:14:14Z

Created page with "{{Log |who=Faryn |what=After R'hin's murder, Faryn stays in Crom a few extra hours. |where=Crom Hold |involves=High Reaches Weyr, Crom Hold |day=18 |mon..."

New page

{{Log
|who=Faryn
|what=After [[Logs:Murder Gather|R'hin's murder]], Faryn stays in Crom a few extra hours.
|where=Crom Hold
|involves=High Reaches Weyr, Crom Hold
|day=18
|month=13
|turn=38
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.10.11
|quote="Did you know him?"
|mentions=Aughan, Farideh, R'hin
|type=Vignette
|icons-new=Icon faryn cry.png,
|log=There is at least one person in Crom sympathetic to a young woman who looks like she needs a good drink to stabilize her, regardless of the knot she wears from a weyr that's been nothing but trouble, lately. Faryn was ‘’not crying’’ when she broke away from the crowd, and she’s not crying when she hollowly asks if she can buy a drink -- or a bottle -- from a barman who has not quite taken his table down, her voice hollow and resigned. He looks her over, eyes lingering on her knot briefly. He nods. Pulls a bottle, then thinks the better and pulls a glass instead to pass to her. He winces when she swallows it all in a go and shoves it forward for a refill. "Pace yourself, y'hear?"

No reply. She looks at the bottle, then tries on a smile that looks like it hurts. Tries a nod with it. The entire attempt rings too false, so he pours again, halfway full this time, to pace her himself.

“Did you know him?”

“Not really.”

“Can’t find a ride?”

“Didn’t look.”

Late in the conversation, two hours wasted in a bottle with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, the cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low. She’s still ‘’waiting’’ like she can be anything useful to Farideh when the inquisition is over. “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” That’s

She can’t; she isn’t. Her patience frays at the ends long before that, around the same time that she realizes she's crying, for Faranth knows how long. The bartender reaches out to try and comfort her with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring squeeze as she ducks her head between her arms, her crying silent save sniffles and a couple strangled sobs for punctuation. When she seems to calm, the man squeezes again. "Thought you didn't know him?"

She bites, "I ''dont''," with more ferocity than necessary, and pays him without ever looking him in the face again.

Long minutes walking in the bitter cold take her back, where there isn’t a crowd anymore. The scene is still closed off and protected, and the guards spot her right away as the only person moving directly towards them. She’s not sneaking, not subtle. When one of them moves a little more aggressively than she likes to intercept her, she holds her hands up in tired surrender to waylay him. “I don’t want to go in there.” He settles down a bit.

She isn't crying anymore, or maybe her tears froze. She looks at the tent like it’s a puzzle she can deconstruct, or possibly like she expects R’hin to poke his head out at the guards. Joke’s on them, and wouldn’t he be ‘’just’’ that brand of asshole? Hasn’t he been nothing ‘’but’’ that particular brand of asshole? And yet… Faryn feels her throat tighten again, and she swallows painfully against another round of tears she didn’t invite.

''Did you know him?'' the bartender had asked. It makes her laugh now, as sharp as the cold that's eating away at her, a poor imitation of the real thing.

''No,'' she thinks, ''Not sure anyone did.''

"Bye, R'hin." Her voice is harsh, but it's too cold to linger as nighttime sets its hooks, and the guards look seconds from deciding she must know something, too, their interest piqued by the laugh for all it held no humour. She doesn’t know anything. Not about this. Not about him. She leaves, and doesn't look back.
|Categories=Angst Logs
}}

@@ Line 26: / Line 26: @@
 “Didn’t look.”
-Two hours later, with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, he escalates to commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” The cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low, and Faryn stares into her glass, listening to his assessment. Remembering what she'd told a bronzerider she didn't know about her life, what she wanted. What she ''didn't'' want. Be good; be better; be great.
+Two hours later, with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, he escalates to commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” The cold cuts sharper when the sun dips low, and Faryn stares into her glass, listening to his assessment. Remembering what she'd told a bronzerider she didn't know about her life, what she wanted. What she ''didn't'' want. Be good; be better; be great.
 She can’t; she isn't. Her patience frays at the ends long before that, around the same time that she realizes she's crying, for Faranth knows how long. The bartender reaches out to try and comfort her with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring squeeze as she ducks her head between her arms, her crying silent save sniffles and a couple strangled sobs of punctuation. When she seems to calm and her shoulders stop shaking, the man squeezes again. "Thought you didn't know him?"

@@ Line 26: / Line 26: @@
 “Didn’t look.”
-Two hours later, with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, he escalates to commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” The cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low, and Faryn stares into her glass, listening to his assessment. Remembering what she'd told someone she didn't know, about her life, what she wanted. What she ''didn't'' want. Be greater; be better; be good.
+Two hours later, with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, he escalates to commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” The cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low, and Faryn stares into her glass, listening to his assessment. Remembering what she'd told a bronzerider she didn't know about her life, what she wanted. What she ''didn't'' want. Be good; be better; be great.
 She can’t; she isn't. Her patience frays at the ends long before that, around the same time that she realizes she's crying, for Faranth knows how long. The bartender reaches out to try and comfort her with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring squeeze as she ducks her head between her arms, her crying silent save sniffles and a couple strangled sobs of punctuation. When she seems to calm and her shoulders stop shaking, the man squeezes again. "Thought you didn't know him?"

@@ Line 11: / Line 11: @@
 |gamedate=2015.10.11
 |quote="Did you know him?"
-|mentions=Aughan, Farideh, R'hin
+|mentions=R'hin
 |type=Vignette
 |icons-new=Icon faryn cry.png,
@@ Line 26: / Line 26: @@
 “Didn’t look.”
-Then, commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” That’s late in the conversation, two hours later with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, the cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low. She’s still ‘’waiting’’ like she can be anything useful to Farideh when the inquisition is over.
+Two hours later, with the bitter afternoon relenting into night, he escalates to commentary: “Girl like you shouldn’t be a rider. Seems a lot more knifeplay than anything else, these days. You could find a nice boy, get married, settle down.” The cold cutting sharper when the sun dips low, and Faryn stares into her glass, listening to his assessment. Remembering what she'd told someone she didn't know, about her life, what she wanted. What she ''didn't'' want. Be greater; be better; be good.
-She can’t; she isn't. Her patience frays at the ends long before that, around the same time that she realizes she's crying, for Faranth knows how long. The bartender reaches out to try and comfort her with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring squeeze as she ducks her head between her arms, her crying silent save sniffles and a couple strangled sobs for punctuation. When she seems to calm, the man squeezes again. "Thought you didn't know him?"
+She can’t; she isn't. Her patience frays at the ends long before that, around the same time that she realizes she's crying, for Faranth knows how long. The bartender reaches out to try and comfort her with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring squeeze as she ducks her head between her arms, her crying silent save sniffles and a couple strangled sobs of punctuation. When she seems to calm and her shoulders stop shaking, the man squeezes again. "Thought you didn't know him?"
 She bites, "I ''dont''," with more ferocity than necessary, and pays him without ever looking him in the face again.