Logs:In Control of Death - Revision history

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Satiet at 19:31, 22 September 2011

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 | when = Day 20, Month 11, Turn 17, Interval 10, morning
 | gamedate = 2008.09.30
 | quote = "Grow up, my little bitch. Because one day, I'll be tired of waiting for you to grow up and maybe you'll find I'll have the audacity to time my death just before Rielsath rises. Or just live forever."

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 "I'm not." One more sharp assertion of that ensues, Tiriana mouth tightening again as Satiet leaves her. Alone, she turns to give the bottom of the bookcase a kick, scatter the unshelved hides, and then she can actually stalk out herself, once Satiet is well away.
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 | what =
 | when = Day 20, Month 11, Turn 17, Interval 10, morning
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+| gamedate = 2008.09.30
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+| quote = "Grow up, my little bitch. Because one day, I'll be tired of waiting for you to grow up and maybe you'll find I'll have the audacity to time my death just before Rielsath rises. Or just live forever."
 | weather =
 | categories = General
-| mentions =
+| mentions = Lujayn, N'thei, Berit
 | icons = satiet_chess.png, tiriana_scowly.jpg
 | log = Records Room, High Reaches Weyr(#367RJs)
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 Now that's one button to push and despite the fact that the 'cutting retort' in such jumbled statements is lost on her, the intent of it isn't. The distant smugness of having the upperhand falters, but it's a brief, fleeting moment after which those pale eyes disappear into narrow slits. "Do you think I toy with you to take out some inner frustration? Do you think everyone is as petty, childish, and stuck at the age of twelve as you are? Really?" This is a no holds barred session, Satiet's casual posture suddenly straightening so that one leg falls to the ground. "Oh, poor, poor Tiriana. So misunderstood. So neglected. So put upon. Grow up, my little bitch. Because one day, I'll be tired of waiting for you to grow up and maybe you'll find I'll have the audacity to time my death just before Rielsath rises. Or just live forever."
-Own eyes narrowed, Tiriana is watching closely for some kind of reaction to her attempted jibe; she'll take anything, at this point, and it's delight (however mean-spirited) that flits over her own expressive face. "You aren't?" There are other reasons to pick on her? Her brows furrow as she tries to imagine that one and fails. Shaking her head, brushing it off, the girl is about to blow right over that statement, and over Satiet's harsh advice as well; but that latter insinuation pulls her up short. FHer lips slacken into an abruptly befuddled, "What?"
+Own eyes narrowed, Tiriana is watching closely for some kind of reaction to her attempted jibe; she'll take anything, at this point, and it's delight (however mean-spirited) that flits over her own expressive face. "You aren't?" There are other reasons to pick on her? Her brows furrow as she tries to imagine that one and fails. Shaking her head, brushing it off, the girl is about to blow right over that statement, and over Satiet's harsh advice as well; but that latter insinuation pulls her up short. Her lips slacken into an abruptly befuddled, "What?"
 "Oh, spare me. That you haven't thought of it at some point. That it's not something that every goldrider thinks of after they Impress. Some day." In those two words, carries a mocking fervent hope. "That /you/ didn't think of it that day Zibeth rose at Fort." Seriously? If Tiriana means for Satiet to believe that befuddlement, she's doing a bang up job -- even if it is genuine. "You or Lujayn. Or whatever lucky woman gets to ride gold under my management. The safe money's riding on Lujayn, if lower caverns' gossip is anything to be listened to. But when," and knowing that Tiriana's mean-spirited delight is short-lived coaxes her thin smile all the cattier, "Have I ever enjoyed safe? Then again, when will I be stupid enough to die and leave the Weyr to someone as petty and childish as you?" Food for thought; can Satiet really control death?