Difference between revisions of "Logs:Best Friends Forever"

Picture it: late evening, glows are dimmed, and the living cavern is largely empty. Kitchen workers are busy cleaning and shuffling tables around. They've got the last dregs of stew in the pot on the hearth, some finger foods at the serving tables, and a burnt pot of klah simmering nearby the mugs. So naturally Farideh is seated at the center of one of the long tables, chewing on one of her fingernails as her eyes scan the crumpled up piece of hide in front of her. There's drawings here and there, but it's mostly some tiny, scrawled handwriting all over, even in the outermost corners; someone tried to make the most of what they were given. She's got her legs crossed under her seat, her feet bouncing energetically as she reads.

"You look like you've had too much klah," says Z'riah as he wanders past Farideh's table. Clearly he's unafraid of offering up his unprovoked opinions on all sorts of matters since he adds after another moment, "Chewing on your nails is not very attractive. Good habit to break. Not that hard, either." Maybe he did it at some point.

Concentration - as tenebrous as it was - broken with the intrusion of Z'riah's words, Farideh glances up from her reading material with both brows hiked up high. "Excuse me, I don't think--" but then, he does have a good point about her nails. She hides her hands under the table and gives the greenrider her best glare. "Thank you for the unwelcome advice. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, buffing your dragon's hide or something?"

"You are most welcome," says Z'riah in a way that probably doesn't seem natural for him even to a stranger. And, unfortunately for her, instead of moving along, he just sits down across from her to look at her things. "Nope. My dragon's just fine. But she does admit that sounds like a nice idea for sometime soon. She's busy making friends right now. Just like me. We're friends now, by the way, you and I."

"No." Defensiveness rears its head as this stranger tries to look at her notes, causing her to pull them closer to her and give him an intense stare. "I don't know you. How can I be your friend? Besides, you seem nosy," Farideh shoots at him with a surly disposition, her mouth set in a puckered pout. "It isn't nice to intrude." Besides the irony there - because who doesn't Farideh intrude in everyone's business - there's a touch of protectiveness over whatever's written down. "And I have enough friends, thank you."

Fortunately for Farideh, Z'riah doesn't actually seem that interested in sorting out the words that are upside down for him. But he does seem to enjoy the reaction that it gets out of her. "No one ever has enough friends. Besides, I only have one and I'd really like some that are prettier than he is." Like her, for instance. That's a compliment, in case she missed it.

Still giving him the wary side-eye, Farideh slips her notes into her lap and under the sanctuary of the table. "You only have one friend? What a sad companion you must be." That was an insult. Definitely an insult. "I can't imagine what it would be like to only have the one. Are you a poor conversationalist? A liar? A cheat? Or do you just annoy everyone you meet?" She braves a full glance at him, lips puckered in displeasure.

"I moved away from my life-long home to follow him here because he thought leaving was the Right Thing To Do." There's clearly history there. "I left behind all of my other friends in the process." Z'riah doesn't sound particularly insulted, sorry. Weary, maybe. "So it's just the one. Until I make more. But I'm sure I can manage better than uppity little bitches like you. So I take it back. We aren't friends now."

"I would question your choice in friends then," Farideh suggests sweetly-- a faux-sweetness that shifts to outrage. "I am not uppity." Make note she doesn't defend the 'bitch' argument, likely because she knows exactly that. Sitting straighter, lifting that stubborn chin of hers, she tries her best to look down her nose at him, which is comical given he's taller and she's a petite thing. "Fine. Don't be. As I said, I don't have room for anymore friends anyway." Queue filled, with a flip of her hair as she pretends to read the notes in her lap now.

"Maybe it's not my friends you should question," Z'riah tells her. Which would imply that it's possibly her that should be questioning her choice in friends. Even though he has no idea who they are. That's not important to him. He's rising, though, because screw this. He's got better things to do than make nice with the likes of Farideh!