Difference between revisions of "Logs:Finally Meeting Tiriana"

The Bollians throw a nice party. It's still early enough in the spring that places like, say, the Reaches and Telgar are a little nippy, and so there are a lot of pale bodies pushing through crowds during the day, some complaining of the heat, a killing made on chilled drinks-- not that it's hot, not by a long-shot, but those northerners sure can make a fuss about a little spring warmth. The sun sets after a long day of festivities, with all the usual fare from runner races to firelizards; as twilight settles, as the first pale stars wink against a purplish-blue sky, the dance floor really becomes the hub of activity. Bright dresses spin and twirl beneath garlands and glowbaskets, the quartet of harpers really hit their stride while people gravitate to the hot-spot. The dance square is a raised wooden platform all bedecked with posts and streamers; there's N'thei, clinging to one of the corner-posts, talking to a cluster of finely dressed women that include the Ladies of Nabol and Nerat. One could almost mistake him for charming-- but then these people don't know him very well, so pardon their ignorance.

Tiriana certainly isn't charming, and isn't making too many pretenses otherwise as she willfully dodges around such ladies, brushing past their sorts quickly lest she get sucked into some boring old discussion about who made your dress and wherever did you buy those shoes. She's more interested in getting a cold drink of her own and then finding a more or less open spot just off the dance floor, and down from N'thei and his women. A nice place to stop just for a moment, and from that vantage point, she watches both the crowd milling around and, more often, the dancers--especially the really bad ones she can snicker at, though her expression gradually turns grumpier the more of them she watches.

One of the women, Nerat or Nabol and it's hard to tell the two Ladies apart, has something less than charitable to say when she tracks a sidelong glance at Telgar's new goldrider, some snide little remark that's precisely the sort of thing that would light up a whole line of gossip in her sitting room. N'thei stops them before they really get off on a tear, asks quite benignly precisely who is the goldrider in question, and gets a none-too-surreptitious answer; the two ladies turn and point to where Tiriana stopped. That the man excuses himself promptly afterward, hops down from the post and leaves them there probably doesn't earn Tiriana any brownie points, the little hussy. It's an easy thing for N'thei to navigate the crowd, to shoulder aside those that don't get out of the way in time, so that he comes up beside Tiriana quickly; "Rumor has it you talked a lot of shit about the 'Reaches." Let's cut right to the chase.

Tiriana would probably be pleased with both the speed that N'thei ditches those girls for her, and for their annoyance with him for as much. If she were in any way observant enough to notice such things before he hears N'thei's voice. At that, though, she turns quickly, glancing around to him and drawing herself up automatically, as though that will put her up on his level. "Yeah?" she challenges at once in return, crossing her arms. "What, you going to beat me up about it now? Act like you haven't done exactly the same?"

It won't. But N'thei's a man who can appreciate the effort, at least betray amusement in a brief nice-try tug at his lips. "Do you want me to." Like that's a perfectly natural question, like anyone would actually say yes; but, then, who knows what he's /heard/ about Tiriana. "Defensive though, aren't you. Do you dance?" None of those remarks have anything to do with the ones that preceded it, and the only thing that seems to tie in is that he offers an open hand to the space in between them, hovers it in the general vicinity of her folded elbow with a look that-- on most people-- would come across expectant; on him, it's a scowl short of demanding.

"I'm not going to apologize," warns Tiriana, though a beat later his question sinks in and she pulls up short, blinking. "Yes," is her automatic answer as she glances from his face to his hand and back again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She doesn't trust it one bit, and holds out against that demanding-expectant look. "Is this your idea of revenge?"

N'thei's smile is not friendly, no mistaking, her warning met with a cheer that makes it unnecessary for him to actually voice the word 'yet.' His hand stays right there where it is; the Ladies of Nerat and Nabol are just visible at the edge of the dance floor, watching and wishing ill-fortune to befall Tiriana. To answer her question, the bronzerider just shakes his head and further asks; "Do you want to dance with me."

Hasn't ill fortunate befallen already? Tiriana seems to think so, with her own unfriendly look N'thei's way. But he does have her pretty well cornered, and after another moment delaying, she finally glowers and offers her arm in return. "Fine," she says, more concession than desire. Yet indeed.

"Good." And if N'thei's fingers are momentarily a little meaner than they need to be, a little more cuff-like than necessary before he settles them ever-so-politely against Tiriana's arm, surely it's just coincidence. After that, he's all bird-careful handling of the goldrider, the gingerness of a real gentleman. "Not quite ready to let bygones be bygones then?" Asked in light of her glowering, her concessions, her-- well, everything at the moment.

Despite a brief tightening of her mouth for the tightness of her hold, Tiriana doesn't object and she doesn't pull away as they march toward the dance floor. "Are you?" she counters, very deliberately not looking at him now. She's resigned, if sulky, over the whole affair. "And you better actually know /how/ to dance."

"Or what?" Knee-jerk reaction, utterly involuntary, feel free to ignore the slight intimation of ridicule behind the laughed counter. N'thei leads by the pair of Ladies with the charm of a smile, a lowered head, sets them twittering anew while he climbs the few steps to an open space amid the crowded spinning of couples; there, fingers slid to catch Tiriana's hand, he answers, "Your Weyrleader and I buried the hatchet months ago. Shouldn't we all be friends now." By all indications, he does know how to dance, perhaps not stunningly but he's familiar with it.

"Or--" Tiriana begins, but apparently thinks better of it, though she does jerk her head around again to look at him; she seems intent on ruining his gentlemanly act for Ladies Nabol and Nerat. On the dance floor, at least, she relaxes a hair as she shakes her head to that answer and steps into position easily, albeit without getting too close to N'thei. "I'm not friends with him, either," she answers; faintly smirking, like she's won this battle.

A victory allowed, touche side-nod to acknowledge it, followed soon by a spin, a twirl, all the intricacies of falling into step. "What did it cost you, really, that you'd bother holding a grudge after all this time. Family business in cromcoal or just that childishly stubborn?" N'thei maintains the distance as set by Tiriana, hands utterly impersonal at her hip and around her palm, stately and dull.

Hotly, "I am not childish." That reignites her glowering, and she adds, "I'm twenty," like that's another big victory for her. As for his question, she's silent on it for several moments, taking a spin; however much she might dislike her partner, she certainly seems to enjoy the dancing itself. Eventually, she offers a stiff, "It's the principle of the thing. The--the daring to mess from /us/. I'm not about to let people get away with that, even if /our/ Weyrleader would."

N'thei doesn't argue in words, but he looks down at Tiriana with a beg-to-differ cant of his head. Yeah, not childish, he buys that. To her enjoyment, he's downright ambivalent, going through the motions with the ease of an old memory, someone who once learned the steps and has practiced them regularly, but there's no passion for it. Spin, step, slide, a good enough partner. "Would it have been better if I'd lifted it right out of your lower caverns? Seeing as it's the principle of the thing, obviously taking from Crom wasn't right, but you had all my coal, and my toes got awfully cold."

Tiriana snorts. "Go buy another blanket," is her rather unfeeling response. "Or maybe just don't piss off your holders." Nevermind he can't be blamed for that. The start of it all, anyway. Still, with any luck, the roll of her eyes is lost in another spin, though there's no mistaking her words, even in the noise of the floor. "There's no talking sense to some people. We did give you some of it, in the end, so. And maybe if you had asked nicely instead of just, y'know. /Taking/," she adds pointedly.

Tight fingers, just a moment of them, just a twitch; N'thei's temper is being remarkably well-behaved, considering, and he loosens his hands quickly, ostensibly to reel Tiriana along the length of one arm. "Shouldn't have had to ask, that's the 'principle of the thing.' /You/." Taking it very personally, aren't they? For water under the bridge and all. "Shouldn't have turned your back on another Weyr. I took it because it was mine to take. Tell me you'd have just sat there with your teeth chattering if you were in my place. Tell me that so I can call you a liar." The pretense of playing-nice seems to have evaporated along the way; fortunately, the harpers don't know what's going on, and the revelling tune spills on.

Oh, she bristles, but even Tiriana's not dishonest, or stupid, enough to deny that fact. Instead, she blusters, "Yeah, well. Gay was the one in charge of that policy--" buck-passing at its best "--and it's /not/ us on that end because people like us. They give us stuff even if it isn't ours." This is possibly admitting he's right after all, but she ignores it in favor of the dance, throwing herself back into that for a few minutes. Finally, she notes loftily, "You /could/ have just suffered through it, made do somehow else. And not give Crom the satisfaction."

Oh, well, if we're just passing the buck; "Wasn't exactly a policy-maker at the time, or maybe there would have been another means to the end." Unlikely. N'thei's just downright blunt at her suggestion to weather through it, with a snort and a gruff, "Fuck that. It was the middle of winter and I was freezing my ass off. Crom's satisfaction wasn't high on my list of concerns." Lovely little twirl. Then a break when the song ends and it's time for everyone to pause and clap and appreciate the harpers, cajole their precious little egos into another dance tune.

"Yeah, well." Even Tiriana doesn't look too behind that suggestion. "That was Iovniath's idea, anyway." One last spin and then she's stopping, offering the harpers a couple of disinterested claps of her own while she's still watching N'thei, mouth a thin line. "/I/," she tells him then, "at least wouldn't have skulked in there in the middle of the night like a coward."

Snort. "No? Just put a few bags of coal in your pocket and walked out the front door then?" N'thei gives her a don't-be-stupid glance.

"Bunch of holders don't scare me, and it's not like they really did anything to you," retorts the girl, put out and somewhat sullen with his reply. Being perhaps bright enough to sense when she's really losing, she shrugs then and brushes it all off with, "But it's all water under the bridge, right?"

N'thei bites off the reply, reels his head back with the effort made not to snap back at her retort. /Play nice./ "Taken a while, but I've let it go, sure. Only concern is-- well." He listens for the first few chords of the next song, the corner of his lip congealing as it turns out to be something sappy and romantic and not really good for acquaintance-dancing. "Telgar's newest queenrider running her mouth, makes relations a little strained, neh?"

With a smug, smirking tilt of her mouth, Tiriana regards N'thei, though her expression is somewhat soured by his latter remark. With a quick glance harpersward as they strike up the song and she picks up the tune again, she reaches to cross her arms back, again defensive. "Well, I guess it's a good thing nobody listens to me anyway, then," she answers with a sniff.

"Is it." N'thei regards the defensive posture with a single, short glance, takes in the crossed arms and the sniff and all, answers it with what looks like a really pleasant smile, with a hand offered toward her graciously-- he'd probably even kiss her knuckles, so fine his manners. While saying, "A'zan's sort of a pussy, so maybe he's not really got a firm handle on things, but I'd knock your teeth out if you were my goldrider. Thanks for the dance though."

"Sort of?" Tiriana actually snickers at that, and adds, "I'd knock /his/ teeth out if he tried." She, apparently, takes that whole comment as kind of a compliment, looking just a little pleased with herself again. She does relax, and unfold her arms to offer him a hand again. "Sure, anytime," says she then, only a little sarcastic. "At least you--sort of--knew what you were doing." Begrudged.

N'thei enjoys insulting people, does it with a smile. "You don't, but you seemed happy doing it, so good for you." He does kiss the back of her hand, gives the Ladies Nerat and Nabol something to twitter about, and then he's straightened up and turned away, lead a path to the edge of the dance floor that Tiriana's welcome to exploit and follow along. An easy jog down the stairs, because those are evidently meant to be his parting words after all that nice-making.

"Bastard," Tiriana does not keep up with the nice-making, glowering, even flushing slightly at his jab. She's not happy about it and stays where she is for a moment after he leaves before she takes off after him, dodging through that wide swathe to catch up and pause at the railing. "Hey," she calls out, sharply; meant to get his attention back, if just for a moment.

What? Not out loud, but N'thei stops at the bottom of the steps with his head cocked to look back up at Tiriana expectantly.

Tiriana hesitates a moment, like now that he's looking up at her she's not quite sure if she wants to say it after all. But not about to back down and look more foolish now, she blurts it on out: "How'd /you/ ever get caught by him, anyway?"

"Double-crossed." Plain and simple. N'thei shrugs his shoulders in a big, helpless way that turns his palms up slightly in the process. "Keep talking shit about people, someone'll do it to you some day, trust me." His sunny smile is all set to commiserate with Tiriana when that day comes.

Tiriana's eyes narrow at that, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she shakes her head and leans back from the rail, refuting his words. "Someday?" A snort, unladylike. "Please. I'm a big girl--I can take it," she dismisses the idea entirely then, and apparently him with it (like he needs dismissing) as she turns away then herself.

N'thei, chuckling, departs. No one even got a bruise out of this, how disappointing.