Difference between revisions of "Logs:No Tricks"

The room at large is warm, provided by the hearths that line one wall, and cozy. Kitchen workers rush back and forth in preparation for the lunch meal, but tucked in one of the nooks, Farideh already has a plate full of treats that she's picking at. Bits of cheese and fruit, stale bread and nuts, that seem castoffs from some larger fare than anything else. She's by herself, casting curious glances towards the other side of the cavern where they're prepping legumes. Her legs are pulled up and propped against the edge of the table, fingers plucking the odd piece off her plate every now and again to pop into her mouth. There's an air of sulk about her, but otherwise, no outward signs.

The bronzerider's arrival must be from a path from outside. He's still wearing his flight jacket, a scarf tucked in under the collar, and his face is colored by the cold. Whatever snow had been clinging to him has melted already. He talks to one of the kitchen workers for a few moments before she's smiling at him and then turning away. Free now, H'vier glances toward the various seating arrangements available and double-takes where he sees Farideh. Of course, that's where he heads, inviting himself to the seat on the other side of the table. "You look prettier when you smile," he tells her. Because women often smile while they eat, obviously.

Caught! Right before H'vier makes himself at home at her nook, her table, Farideh stuffs a large piece of bread in her mouth, and that leaves her chipmunk-cheeked when she lowers her furrowed gaze on the bronzerider. She manages to chew and swallow, licking her lips of sticky fruit, though her eyes remain on him suspiciously. "H'vier," she says warningly, "What are you doing here? Do you-- come here? Often?" Then, she starts glancing around, like she's looking for someone, perhaps a certain blonde someone.

"Do I come to the kitchen often?" H'vier feigns confusion to point out the ridiculousness of that question. "I do eat on occasion, yes," is his final answer. If he notices her looking around for someone that's not him, he says nothing, though he does turn his head to see where the woman he'd been talking to has gotten off to.

His answers prompts a glare from the laundress, who simply hunkers down over her knees to tear apart her bread, wordlessly. There's no denying the irritation in the stare Farideh's giving him, even as she's busy chewing and mutilating the fruit on her plate with her fingers. Wishful thinking?

Given the sort of man that H'vier is, he's relatively immune to being glared at by women. But he notices without commenting. Not until the woman brings him a bowl of stew and a mug of klah. He smiles at her and says, "Thanks, darling." And then he turns his attention on Farideh as he stirs his stew. "So what's up your ass today?" Classy.

A smile is aimed at H'vier from around another mouthful, though it's not particularly kind. "Nothing is up my ass. I just find--" Farideh sniffs disdainfully. "Everything unsatisfactory of late." She shifts, dropping one of her legs, and has an obvious wavering moment, before lifting considering eyes to the bronzerider. "Do you think I'm self-centered, H'vier?" Real talk.

His stew is at least as interesting as Farideh, so H'vier watches that while he makes sure to get just the right sort of bite on his spoon. He makes a sound that's probably meant to acknowledge that he's listening and, in the end, says simply, "You and everyone else."

H'vier being absorbed in his stew doesn't stop Farideh from dropping her other leg and leaning forward on the table, forearms braced on the edge. She points an accusing finger at him. "Be serious, H'vier. Am I? Self-centered? Ridiculous?"

"Yes," says H'vier, dark eyes lifting up to look at the girl with something like curiosity. "Self-centered, anyway. I don't know about ridiculous. Since when do you care what I think?" The bronzerider doesn't look very convinced that he believes she actually does.

The bluntness of the dragonrider's confirmation draws a disconcerted frown. "Of course I care what you think." Farideh's fingers pause over her plate, hesitating in the wake of her newest cause of self-consciousness. "Can you tell me why? What do I do, specifically?" Then, she picks up a citrus slice and nibbles on it thoughtfully, watching H'vier for his answer.

"You're a beautiful young woman," says H'vier as though this is his answer to her questions. "Sort of hard not to be self-centered when you're used to people wanting you and getting things you want, isn't it? It's not your fault. You might even grow out of it." People aren't young and beautiful forever, after all.

"You're saying," to clear it up, "that I should embrace being self-centered because I'm pretty?" Forgive Farideh if she sounds incredulous, wearing a matching expression. "I didn't even think that I was until Lycinea called me that and ridiculous and said she would step on my skirt," is confided with annoyance, and a bit of a pout, while she picks through the leftovers on her plate. "I don't want people to call me that."

"If it bothers you, no. You probably shouldn't embrace it. But it's not like Lycinea isn't self-centered, either. There's nothing wrong with it, really. Everyone should be, to some extent. But is it that you don't want to be self-centered or that you don't want people to think you are?" Because those are two very different things, evidently, and H'vier obviously suspects it's the latter.

The beginnings of a satisfied smirk curves Farideh's lips upwards when he says Lycinea, too, is self-centered. "If there's nothing wrong with being self-centered, why do people have such a problem with it?" She grabs another berry to chew, letting her face mirror her inner thoughts, or her sudden, shrewd suspicion. "Is that a trick question?"

"Because people are idiots. They think being a good person means putting others before yourself. But then they use their definition of good to tell other people they're bad." H'vier takes a bite of his stew before lifting his gaze again to look at Farideh. "There's no trick. But you don't get very far in life worrying about what other people think of you. So if you want to be selfless and generous and whatever, do it because you want to. Not because other people think you should be."

"I didn't think you had such deep thoughts, H'vier. I can only guess which attitude you've taken, and without regret?" Farideh sits back and re-folds her legs up, letting them rest against the table edge. Her eyes watch the man across the way thoughtfully. "If people think you're self-centered and you're unremorseful, how will you make friends? How will you keep them? Doesn't that bother you at all? I don't want to lose Lya as a friend, though I don't want her to go around calling me names either." What a problem to have.

"I don't have many friends. And the friends I do have aren't the sort of people who have many friends. But I have people." And that's, evidently, all that H'vier needs. "Besides, if Lya has stayed my friend, I can't imagine what you could do to her to lose her. She's incredibly forgiving." Then again, he does buy her pretty things on occasion. "You should talk to her."

The laundress isn't interested in his tale of friends or people, and shrugs to denote her indifference for his words. It's his insistence that's he talk to their mutual blonde friend that has Farideh frowning and semi-glaring at him. "I don't want to talk to her. She called me names first, and told Irianke all of my secrets. She should be the one to find me and apologize, not the other way around."

She can be as indifferent as she wants, but she asked him, so he answered. "I didn't tell you to apologize to her. But if you want to be friends, you need to talk to each other. If you don't, all the better for me. I prefer when you two aren't friends." But H'vier would never use reverse psychology on them, right? Especially when he's basically telling the truth. "Why don't you tell me about your secrets instead, so I don't have to get them out of Lya."

"Why do you like it better when we aren't being friends?" Farideh sounds genuinely confused, and that mixed with her suspicious stare would suggest she doesn't trust him; not new news however. "They're secrets for a reason. You could try to get them out of Irianke instead," her lips curling mischievously, "you did sleep with her, didn't you?" And that would suggest that means something, or that H'vier now has an in with the Igen goldrider.

"I slept with you, too," H'vier points out like her argument has some pretty obviously gaping holes in it. "Lya is my friend. You and Irianke are not." So Lya is more likely to tell him what he wants to know than the two Igenites he's had relations with. He doesn't, notably, answer her first question.

"As you constantly feel the need to remind me," Farideh says sharply, and as per usual, takes that as her cue to unfold and rise out of her seat. "I'm sure that with a little persuasion, you can get the answer you want. She apparently has no issues with sharing things that aren't her business to share." Her smile is tart, but she picks up her plate instead of leaving H'vier to deal with it. "Until then." A nod, and she's walking to deposit her plate with the dishwashers.

For some reason, her response and rising makes the bronzerider smile. "I'll let you know how easy it is to get out of her," H'vier assures her before offering pleasantly to her departing person, "Have a nice day, Farideh."