Difference between revisions of "Logs:Might be worth the wine"

Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.

The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.

Heavy rain may make it almost impossible to tell, but Rukbat has not yet risen and the kitchens staff are busy preparing for the first round of early risers. Sequestered in one of the usual nooks, with a pot of triple strength klah, is what might appear to be a zombie, with a pile of what looks suspiciously like paperwork. It must be the fourth or fifth cup Edyis has poured, taking a deep drink before setting the mug and slapping both sides of her face as though the action will bring her closer to an acceptable level of alertness. She tries in vain to return her attention to the documents at hand once more before with a groan she faceplants against the table. "Why does it have to be Tillek?" Muttered darkly under her breath.

A'rist is often in the kitchens early. Often, it's a peaceful moment, with Lythronath still sleepy and content to rest, with the workers he's known since he was still (to so many others) one of the unnamed stable boys of the weyr, with a warm mug rousing his senses. Or, in this case, with the sounds of skin slapping skin. It's a smooth move all in all, hooking one chair up to Edyis' table with his foot, easing into it, and propping an elbow, presumptuously, on some of that paperwork. (It doesn't look all that comfortable really, but he's got a smile of sorts on his face.) "'Cause that's where the boats are." A sage nod, as he forces back that smirk into something terribly serious.

The crinkle of paper, more than the sound of the sliding chair has her sitting bolt upright once more, dark eyes darting about until they focus sharply on his face, displeasure melting instantly as recognition sets in. "Have you ever had to sit and listen to a sailor talk about his boat - Ship." Edyis amends the last, conspiratorially grinning, though the expression fades. "Feign interest in learning to tie knots and listening to tall tales, which make absolutely no logical sense at all. I have had quite enough of Tillek and it's ships to last me a lifetime." Gently she works at freeing her paperwork from his elbow, perhaps successfully or unsuccessfully but certainly with amusement plainly written in her features.

"It really was about boats?" A'rist's smirk grows, an element of pride in it. "I could've said vineyards too, I guess, but ships are more exciting." As she goes on, though, A'rist pauses, mouth falling into more of a puzzled twist. "Well, I guess more exciting for some people." He moves his elbow after a moment's resistance - for show - and folding his hands before him on the table. "So what, did you just get back then? Up all night with the sailors?" The corners of mouth and eyes twitch, the bronzerider himself seemingly quite amused, though there's nothing mean in his expression.

"It isn't that they aren't interesting just that they tend to be an exhausting subject. You can't discuss a ship without discussing the ones that disappear. That tends to lead to far less pleasant discussions in Tillek these days." She sighs, though the suggestions of a smile return at his momentary resistance. "You are such a charmer." She tucks the paperwork away and actually tries to seem irritated but can't find the energy to keep up the farce, melting into amusement instead. "Yes that's me, the party girl, drank the night away, danced on the bar, was dragged home by a rider." Though laced with faint touches of sarcasm it's possible at least one or more of the statements is true. Lifting the mug to her lips as though the liquid might revive some semblance of alertness.

"Are there ships disappearing from Tillek, these days?" A'rist's head has cocked a bit to one side, although the careful watching that wants to go along with it fades quickly. He brings one hand up to scrub through his hair, feathering it some around his finger trails. "Wish I'd known. I'd like to see that, I think." His hand is back down again, and he's leaning forward over the table, wriggling a bit in his seat, as if to get more comfortable. Or closer. "The rider anyone I know?"

"Even rumors that dragons are causing them to disappear, at least if you listen to the gossips. Doesn't do a bit of good in finding the real culprits either, I mean if a weyr were involved, you'd see an increase in the storerooms right? Or someone somewhere would have talked, there's too many ships missing for that." Grumpily stated, though she laughs. "You pay for the wine and we'll talk. I think it was either Bristia or Nita, probably Nita. She's usually the one who plays designated flyer for the ground bound after. I remember it was a green, and that I realized after the bonfire was over that I still had reports to go over." She wrinkles her nose with a smile. "Gotta love Savannah parties."

"So ships are disappearing recently," A'rist presses, "or are these the ones from before?" The interest carries on with talk of greenriders, a wry, "I'm in the wrong wing," out of him before all that interest fades away. "Except maybe their parties aren't so good, if after you're worried about reports. Makes me think, if I do buy the wine, you'll just end up telling me about all this work stuff you're doing." Eyebrows raise, but it's a disappointed sort of look. He even sighs, dramatically.

"I'd have to check on any recent ones, mostly the ones from before are still being looked into I think." Rubbing at the back of her neck she snorts. "No the parties are good, I'm just a terrible partier. I think I need to talk someone into showing me the correct way to party since you are the second person who has told me as much." Her smile twists, expression wry. "What am I supposed to do? If you buy the wine, or rather what would you like for me to do." She leans in, expectantly waiting for the answer.

"Oh. That's good, then." It's not insincere, but there's a ring of something incomplete to it. "You've got to let go." A'rist either didn't notice that incompleteness, and considers the affair closed, or did; either way, the move forward is quick. "To party well. To be worth the wine, too, I guess. But," and his eyes move up and down her face, with both of them leaned over the table, close like that, "you don't know how to do that."

She smiles, shaking her head a moment. "What about you? Do you ever get to just let go?" Turning the question back on him, dark eyes thoughtful. "Personally I'm not entirely sure about the person I'll find if I let go of my responsibilities, and I'm downright terrified at the thought of losing control of myself." A bit more honest than she'd intended perhaps, even so she remains precisely where she is, waiting for the answer.

"Sometimes," A'rist allows, after only the slightest hesitation. "It depends where I am, I guess... but," he shrugs, shifting his chair back, but maintaining that forward lean, "I know who I am. What I am." It's a serious response, but just now, it comes easily enough. "It's a good thing to know. Maybe it would be worth the wine."

"That is the thing that makes you so very damn interesting." She replies, the swear word sounding a bit unnatural from her perhaps. "You never give the answer I'd expect. You are perfectly happy with who you are. You never wear a mask to hide it." She shakes her head, moving closer for just a moment, before leaning back in her chair changing her mind. "You probably wouldn't like the person that's there, but it's on you if you ever want to find out." She decides at last, draining her mug.

A'rist leans back when she does, shifting the chair with a shuddering scrape across the floor once again. "Everyone wears masks, don't they? Or at least," and his fingers drum at the table a bit, "holds back. I don't know if you'd call it happy, but I know." And that brings one eyebrow up, faintly. "You said you don't know what you'd find, though. So how can you even know if I'd like it any or not?"

She exhales softly, silently debating before choosing to speak. "Because it is that person who originally set out to befriend you because you were the perfect embodiment of all the things she was afraid of. That same person who tried to use you to get information about what happened in Tillek, infact so much so as to construct a very elaborate lie blended in with the truth." It rushes out in a single breath, and from her expression it's a somewhat uncomfortable admission. "I don't know all of what's underneath the masks I wear, but I enjoy wearing them as much as I've come to enjoy your company." Which must be quite a bit, from the tone. "So I'm pretty sure that most wouldn't like someone like that, someone who can lie almost without conscience to achieve an end."

How does someone respond to all that? A'rist doesn't seem to know. What he does do is bring his hands down from the table to fold over his abdomen, and tilt his chair back, balancing a moment, and then letting it thunk back down to all fours, his mouth all twisted up as he chews at the inside of his cheek. It's probably an awkwardly drawn out moment before he finally comes up with, "So how come you're telling me now?"

Whatever she'd been expecting, it must not have been that question. Then again she hadn't exactly planned on letting the truth rush out like that either. When she does speak, the words come very softly put perfectly clear. "Because I like the person you are, because you deserve to hear the truth and because you wanted to know, what was underneath." She glances down at the table. "Now you know."

A'rist's lips twitch, when she talks about the person he is, but no contradiction is offered. The bronzerider waits again, chewing away at his cheek some more, looking down at his fingers, and, finally, back over to Edyis. "You're kind of contradicting yourself though, you know. I mean, if lying's so easy, then... well." He tilts his head in her direction. "This. Wouldn't happen, right. So maybe you're wrong."

Edyis can only stare at him in awe in response. One might even think at this point she would be used to nonstandard responses, "I did say almost," closing her eyes as she leans back in her own chair a moment trying to marshal her hungover and sleep deprived thoughts into order. "You never react the way I expect, Never. Not once. Ever. Most people would be livid right now, never wanting to speak to me again, or even throwing a punch. Yet you are sitting here calmly willing to debate whether or not I actually possess a conscience." Awe still not completely fading from her voice and expression, even as she sits there head tilted back as though it will stop the pounding in her skull.

A'rist shifts, uneasy under that awe. "What," comes a bit tilted, uncertain, "you want me to get mad? Hurt you?" Brown eyes widen faintly, settle back to something normal. Those nerves are gone, all at once, replaced by a calm sort of curiosity. "So why things that scare you?" A beat, and then, with a bit more investment, "What things, anyway?"

"It isn't that I want you to be mad at me, I am incredibly relieved that you are not." Edyis explains both sets of fingers rubbing at her temples. It's the questions that have her eyes opening and sitting up in her chair fingers interlacing as she props her elbows against the table propping up her chin. "I hate being afraid. I hate feeling powerless because I'm afraid. I hate the thought that I might be missing out on something absolutely amazing because the idea alone scares me." She studies his face as she speaks, watching the reactions or lack thereof. "Lots of things when I first came here. Dragons still make me a little nervous since I have no way to know what they are thinking. I still can't stand being near a fire that isn't in a hearth, always have nightmares after."

It might be something like sympathy, that touches the bronzerider's face as she speaks of fear. Or even a sort of nostalgia? "There's not much out there that scares me, now." A beat, and, "Us," comes with a bit more heat in his voice, a slight downward tilt of his head, though A'rist's eyes stay on her. "And anything that might be a nightmare isn't." This seems to strike him as almost humorous. It brings a sharpness to his features, for a moment. Then, he's focused on Edyis again. "So, how come you want to know about Tillek?"

If she notices the added sharpness and heat, it is only regarded with a smile. The last question gives her pause as she considers the best way to answer them. "You know something about what is going on there, too damn clever not to. You were also extraordinarily hesitant about that job about how the weyr might be viewed as a result." Dark eyes focus intently on him now. "If I had to take a guess in the dark I would wager you have seen something."

Some of the expressiveness leaves A'rist's face, and he's still for a moment. "We either choose to be part of a Weyr, or we aren't." Her intensity is met with his own, and the young man sits up a bit straighter. "Why does it matter to you? You said you were lying for your own... purposes, or something. Ends. So what's it to you?" The words could have been petulant. They aren't.

"Can I trust you to keep a secret?" Edyis asks leaning in the words almost a whisper.

A'rist leans forward incrementally himself, with one ear tilted more toward Edyis. "You already did, I thought."

Edyis bites her lower lip then, wrestling with the decision for a moment. "You present a convincing argument of course, but -" Don't prove it misplaced trust, would seem to be the implication. "I work with Savannah sometimes, gathering information for High Reaches, It's why I didn't come back from Monaco immediately after the wing left, and it's also why I was late returning for the hatching. I was working in Tillek, damage control with the rumor mill mostly and to see what I could turn up on the missing ships. It isn't much, but it's something I can do, something worth the effort you know?"

A'rist makes no sign of promise, either way. He watches, expectant at first, then intent, as she speaks. When she's finished, though, his eyebrows draw down, and he purses his lips a bit. "But you think Tillek and ships are boring. You just said." No comment is given on the wing, or her association. "How's it boring, but important to you, too?"

"Not boring, exhausting. There is a distinct difference. Just because dealing with ships being metaphorically compared to anatomy gets old doesn't necissarily mean that tales about pirates or who is taking bribes to smuggle goods does." She laughs softly, "Sadly you cannot always have one without the other."

A'rist considers that a moment, considers her for another, and finally, sits back. "Guess not." He stretches, arms above his head, then pushed back. Resettling, he looks to the pot of klah, then to her mug, then to the stack of papers. "So you going to get a chance to sleep sometime, in all of that?"

"If I talk someone into covering my shift in the records room possibly," she admits. "Not that I would get much sleep in the barracks I normally get by on only a few hours anyway and I can always sleep when I'm dead." The last comes with a smirk. Edyis does let her eyes close for a moment briefly considering the options. "Whether or not I actually sleep I may see if someone else will cover anyway."

"Guess for you, low on sleep's not really likely to make you dead, huh?" A'rist, at least, finds some wry humour in that, as he slides his chair back. "Still. Probably should try. Maybe, like... stuff cloth into your ears or something. It looks dumb, but it helps sometimes. Me and Lynner, we've got sweeps."

"No it just makes me really stupidly talkative sometimes." She jokes, before nodding. "Yeah I really should before I say anything else that will have me waking up in a stupid panic later. Thank you, for not being angry with me, I owe you drinks or something." Collecting her papers and getting up to deposit the cup in the sink. "Have fun with sweeps."

A'rist gives a sheepish and awkward sort of shrug, halfway through standing. "It's not really... well, you're welcome I guess. And yeah," with a crooked smile, "maybe you do." A quick and final nod, and he's off on his way. Everyone is busy.