Difference between revisions of "Logs:Trippy"

Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr

Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender.

Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts.

The day after her accident, Lycinea has been granted the day off. The healers have also given her something awesome for the pain. She's sipping at a ceramic mug set on a table next to the comfortable chair she's curled up in, but it's hardly her primary focused. She seems very relaxed as she has a small metal container with buttons on that side table and a spool of thread and scissors. Her fingers work mostly at the delicate task of sewing a large red button onto the bottom of a sock.

It's been two months since V'ros moved out of the residential hall, but you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he gives the place a suspicious once-over. He looks out of place, his hair just starting to sprout from his recently shaven head, with dirt, grime, sweat, and blood all mixed together and splattering his crisp, utilitarian clothing in random splotches. His face is severe for the occasion, a frown and a furrow in place where usually there's just anxiety. Quickly enough, he finds his target, and angles her way. "Ly-lycinea," he says in a greeting, standing awkwardly next to her chair.

Lya's green-blue eyes draw away from the task at hand and she has to blink a couple of times before she's smiling, smiling! at V'ros. Then her eyes drift lazily down his front and she giggles. Her left arm is casted from hand to almost the elbow, and her fingertips are only being used to hold the sock in place while she does all the movement with her right hand, but now the needle is still. "I could've mistaken you for the help dressed like that." With the grime and the blood and the sweat and the dirt, and all. The needle waves at him to encompass the outfit. "What are you doing here, Vvvaaalenros?" She lets the 'v' sound stay too long on her lips. Truly, she's acting more than a little silly. Awesome drugs.

Pained would be an adequate description. "I came from class, I didn't have time to change, but look.." V'ros sits down in the chair nearest to hers, suddenly finding himself all useless arms and hands with no place to go. "V'ros now, Lycinea, remember." He continues to frown, his brown eyes intense and.. heavy, with some vague emotion. "I wanted to apologize for.. for what I did. I want you to know I didn't mean to, I just let my temper get out of control, and it won't happen again." There, he's said it! Even if she doesn't remember because of the drugs, he's gone ahead and apologized! Zmeyth is probably pissed off somewhere, wishing he was allowed in the inner caverns.

"Sorry. Vvvvv'ros." Lycinea cheerfully corrects herself. "Did you know that sounds a little bit like ferocs. Like ferocious but not the whole word, V'ros the Ferocs," she experiments, smile turning into grin. "What?" Oh, he's apologizing. "Can you apologize to me next week when the meds the healer gave me have run out and it hurts again? Right now, it's pretty great. No kitchen work on account of not being able to chance it getting wet and only being one handed, and I can't feel a thing! Well, okay, maybe a little, but it's not worse than the last time it was broken. I'd really appreciate the apology more when I'm not high." Even if it's probably a lot better for him now, while she is.

That went over.. well. V'ros sits back and regards Lycinea with disbelief. "Wha.. what?" He stares at her, not blinking, for a space, before he sighs and shakes his head. "Great. Just great." Probably what's frustrating him is the 'try next week' part. "That's fantastic, Lycinea, but I came to apologize." Shifting to the edge of the seat, it appears as though he's setting himself up to stand and leave, even with the puzzled frown he gives her. "I'm glad it doesn't hurt anymore." At least he gives her that, some of his old guilt seeping through the petulant mask.

"Why are you apologizing?" Lya asks then, brow furrowing. "It's not like you actually feel bad." Or so she supposes. "I didn't tell anyone, you know." Not that there weren't witnesses that some kind of something passed between the two on that ledge. "I said it was an accident. That I tripped." Which is sort of true. She shifts the sock and it's button and the needle out of her lap with her good hand and onto that table, exchanging it for her mug. Then she leans toward him, eyes intent (or as intent as it gets when one is hiiiigh). "Are you leaving already?"

"I do.. feel bad." V'ros drums his fingers on the arm of the chair, looking anywhere but at the kitchen aide. "It doesn't matter if you tell anyone, I already told the Weyrlingmaster, and I've been restricted to the barracks for two weeks." Sans this one occasion to apologize, of course! He still looks uncomfortable, especially given Lycinea's drugged state. "I should probably go.. I don't think Quinlys would be happy if I was gone for too long." His gaze is steady as he scours her face for hint of pain or anger. "So you're.. you sure you're ok?" That is, now, not in next week.

The kitchen aide is looking at him even if he's not at her. Now she's looking sad. "I don't have anyone to tell. Not really." She glances toward the one-eyed sock then back to the weyrling. "Shouldn't you... I don't know, have to be my friend now that you've broken my arm? Aren't only friends, family, and bitter enemies supposed to do things like that?" Lya's clearly showing just how worldly wise she is here. None of this answers his question, of course.

V'ros squirms under that stare. "Friend? You want to be friends? After.. everything?" He sounds doubtful, wavering somewhere between sarcasm and disbelief. But perhaps he's never had a friend, perhaps he doesn't know what to do in this kind of situation. For now, his question is forgotten, his face turned away as he scrubs at the scruff of his neck. "I don't know. It's a big responsibility. Being someone's friend."

"Maybe it would be if that someone had lots of friends you had to live up to. But I've only ever had the one and he's moved away now, so... all you have to do is put up with me being me and try not to shove me off any more ledges." Lycinea's tone is light. Who knows if she'd even be saying any of this without the meds. "And it's not like you're being the friend of some illustrious lady. I'm just Lya. Just--" She shrugs. "The help."

Someone might end up dead, at this rate. V'ros sighs and pinches his forehead. "Fine.. fine.. sure. We can be.. 'friends'. I won't push you off anymore ledges." He doesn't guarantee to put up with her though, simply leaving that one for interpretation, but his expression might - just the slightest bit - soften at the last bit. "You're not much help at all." And with that, he stands, taking another full view of the common room. "I need to get back before Quinlys notices I'm gone. Don't.. don't piss anyone off," with a grimace.

"No promises." Lycinea's smile flashes rarely seen dimples at V'ros. "I have a special talent for that." But she won't keep him longer just now. And who knows if this will all seem some trippy dream to her tomorrow? Friends with V'ros? Come now.